The value of the Eskimo language to him, however, Eric never realized until the close of his third year. Though limping a good deal, he had been able to be up and around for a month before the exams and he had been slaving like a forty-mule team. Still, work as hard as he could, the boy was conscious that there were others who could surpass him. Especially there was one, a fellow called Pym Arbuthnot, who was a hard competitor.
Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.
Coast Guard Cutter, Miami, on July Fourth.
Vessel on which Eric was lieutenant, dressed for national holiday and firing a salute.
They used to say of Pym that he could learn a subject by looking at the outside of a book, and his memory was as retentive as his acquisition was quick. He was always first—in everything but mathematics. There Eric had him. Often he blessed the memory of the old puzzle-maker, as week by week his success in mathematics kept him right abreast of his rival. When at last the exams came off and the lists were made known, Eric was second. He had not quite been able to catch up with Pym, who was first, as every one had expected. To Eric's great delight, moreover, Homer was first in the engineering class.
About a week later, the commandant called him into his office.
"Lieutenant Swift," he said, and the boy's face glowed at this first use of the title, "you have been commissioned and ordered to the Bear. I am told that you know a little Eskimo."
"Yes, sir, a little," Eric answered.