"Near Monomoy you stood in a little too close. Keep farther out from the Shovelful Shoal. If, for any reason, you are compelled to go as close as you did to the point, keep the lead going."
"Yes, sir."
"Mr. Cunningham?"
"Yes, sir."
"In rounding Cape Cod, sailing an arc, change your course more frequently. It will save time and coal."
"Yes, sir."
And, in similar fashion, the officer took up each little detail, dealing with the first-class men after they had shown what they could do. From that test of responsibility many of the cadets came down, white-lipped. It was a striking test of a lad's character as well as of his abilities. Some daring youths would shape as close a course as possible, shaving dangers by the narrowest margin. They were reminded that if a Coast Guard cutter touched bottom, no matter how lightly, even without the slightest injury, there would be an investigation. If it were found that the officer in charge had been guilty of negligence, even in the smallest degree, court martial was possible.
Other cadets, again, timid by nature or not sure of the course, would steer a long way round. They would be reminded of wastage and also of the fact that in rescue work, minutes, even seconds, might mean everything. If, under the test, a cadet showed ignorance of his duties, then he was in for a grilling.
In gunnery, Eric did not shine. He could always work out the necessary problems of elevating the gun to the right height and figuring out the drop of a shell of a certain weight at a certain distance. Yet, in spite of himself, there was always some little trick he could not catch. That was Van Sluyd's specialty. He had the "feel" of it, some way, and by the end of his third year he was as expert in gunnery as Eric was in seamanship. In the handling of a ship Eric was easily the best in his class. It was not until nearly the end of this third and last cruise on the Itasca, however, that he found his opportunity for personal distinction.
It was a dark, blowy night. Eight bells of the second dog watch had only been struck a few minutes before and the officers were chatting after dinner. Eric was on duty on the bridge with the second lieutenant, when the wireless sending apparatus began to buzz "S O S," "S O S," as the operator relayed a message he evidently had just received. At the same moment the shrill whistle of the speaking-tube that connects the bridge with the wireless room was heard.