"I may get through here, and out of here, and in another couple
of years be a line or engineer officer," Midshipman Darrin confided
to his chum and roommate one day. "But I shall be only a half-baked
sort of officer."
"Well, are cubs ever anything more?" demanded Dan.
"Yes; Wolgast, for instance, is going to be something more. So
will Fenton and Day, and several others whom I could name."
"And so is Darrin," confidently predicted Midshipman Dalzell.
But Dave shook his head.
"No, no, Danny boy. The time was when I might have believed extremely
well of myself, but that day has gone by. When I entered the
Naval Academy I probably thought pretty well of myself. I've tried
to keep up with the pace here-----"
"And you've done it, and are going to do it right along," interjected
Midshipman Dalzell.
"No; it almost scares me when I look over the subjects that I'm
not really fit in. It's spring, now, and I'm only a few weeks
away from graduation, only something like two years this side
of a commission as ensign, and---and---Dan, I wonder if I'm honestly
fit to command a rowboat."
"You've got a brief grouch against yourself, Davy," muttered Dan.
"No; but I think I know what a Naval officer should be, and I
also know how far short I fall of what I should be."
"If you get your diploma," argued Midshipman Dalzell, "the faculty
of the Naval Academy will testify on the face of it that you're
a competent midshipman and on your way to being fit to hold an
ensign's commission presently.
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