The navigating officer, who had worked the thing out in two minutes,
sat back in his chair and looked bored. You see, Dig's own eyes
had told him that the ship was working north, and about five miles
off the coast of New Jersey. But his figures told him that the
ship was anchored in the old fourth ward of the city of Newark.
Try as he would, Dig couldn't get the battleship away from that
ward."
Dan Dalzell leaned back, laughing uproariously at the mental picture
that this story of Midshipman Digby brought up in his mind.
"It sounds funny, when you hear it," Dave went on. "But I sometimes
shiver over the almost certainty that I'm going to do something
just as bad when I get to sea. If I get sent to the engine room
I'll be likely to fill the furnaces with water and the boilers
with coal."
"Rot!" objected Dan. "You're not crazy---not even weak-minded."
"Or else, if I'm put to navigating, I'm fairly likely to bring
the battleship into violent collision with the Chicago Limited,
over in Ohio."
"Come out of that funk, Davy!" ordered his chum.
"I'm trying to, Danny boy; but there's many an hour when I feel
that I haven't learned here all that I should have learned, and
that I'll be miles behind the newest ensigns and lieutenants."
"There's just about one thing for you to do, then," proposed Dan.
"Resign?" queried Darrin, looking quizzically at his chum.
"Not by a long sight. Just go in for a commission as second lieutenant
of marines.
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