“Not the slightest, but I’m sure Os will write. He had something up his sleeve and I’ve imagined he has been waiting for it to materialize. Well, our first class cruise is nearly over; it’s been a fine cruise and I’ve only one regret about it and that is that Os isn’t with us. Here it is nearly the middle of August and next week we start for Annapolis; and two weeks from now we’ll commence our September leave.”
These young men were reminiscing on their “long ago.” They were making their first class practice cruise aboard the battle-ship Texas which was now swinging around her anchor at the mouth of the Thames River, below New London.
It was late Saturday afternoon and the midshipmen, having finished supper, were idling on the starboard side of the deck, near the starboard twelve-inch gun.
“Who went on liberty to-day?” asked Bollup.
“Billy Bacon, Smith, M., Warren, Taylor and quite a lot of others; why?”
“I guess New London isn’t so attractive as it was when we first anchored here. There’s some midshipman coming back in a shore boat; don’t you see that little rowboat pulling over to the ship? There’s a midshipman in blue service uniform in the stern sheets.”
“You’re right, Bol; but I imagine it isn’t a matter of the town being less attractive; probably the midshipman is broke.”
“If he were broke he wouldn’t be hiring a shore boat, would he?” inquired Bollup with convincing disdain. “I tell you the girls of New London aren’t what they used to be. Why, when we were youngsters there was the daisiest set of girls here I ever knew.”
The small boat drew near the gangway. In an idle way Himski, shading his eyes from the setting sun, and only half interested, looked at the small boat and its occupants.
Of a sudden he straightened up, and then breathlessly cried out: “Look, Bol, look! Why man, it’s Os; he’s come back to us.” And forgetting their dignified rank as first classmen Himski and Bollup uttered wild whoops of joy and ran to the quarter-deck like madmen.