"Bang," went the reveille gun at six in the morning, rattling every window in Bancroft Hall; and out of bed jumped Robert Drake in a hurry. He first took his customary cold shower-bath, and then quickly threw on his clothes. "Turn out, Stone," he called to his roommate, who was in his own sleeping room across the study. A suite for two midshipmen consists of two sleeping rooms separated by a longer room used in common by both, a large clothes closet, and a shower-bath.
Hardly had the reverberating roar of the morning gun died away than Bancroft Hall was filled with the harsh, sleep-blasting notes of discordant bugles.
"Turn out on this floor, turn out, turn out," called out Robert in the corridor just outside of his own room.
Then he entered the room next to his own, in which Peters and Glassfell roomed.
"All right, Bob," came from each sleeping room which opened into the study room where Robert had entered, and Robert left and rushed into the next room. It must be confessed that Robert was hardly out of the room when Glassfell was once more sound asleep. And further it is admitted that Robert did not give the same stern inspection to first classmen's rooms that he gave to those of the lower classes. He was satisfied with the report from his own classmates of "all right," but saw with his own eyes that all others were actually turned out. On this particular morning Mr. Harry Blunt, midshipman third class, was strangely very tired after what should have been eight hours of sleep, so tired, in fact, that neither gun-firing nor bugle detonation awakened him.
"Turn out, Blunt, turn out," called out Robert, standing over him. "Get up; you're on the report for not being turned out at reveille inspection."
Harry slowly turned out, and Robert rushed away to continue his inspection.
Breakfast formation came half an hour later. Most midshipmen were in ranks before roll call, but at the last note of the bugle swarms of midshipmen rushed madly from Bancroft Hall; midshipmen who had taken a few winks after reveille inspection, hoping to get to the formation without being marked late. This was Glassfell's habit, and he had developed remarkable skill in dressing himself while running at full speed. He would leave his room half dressed and at the end of a dead run he would appear in ranks ready for inspection.
"By George, Stone," said Robert later, "can you imagine there is anybody in the world who does more mad rushing than midshipmen do? We are jumped out of our sleep by a cannon going off right under us, and we run about in a feverish hurry all day long, always having to be present at some formation or other, always fearful of punishment if we are late at anything. And one day is just like another; we were jumped about all day long when we were plebes, and we are still at it."