Drowsily, Dalzell thrust one bare foot out from under the sheet.
"Are you awake in sea-going order, sir?" Dave asked, jovially.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Then remain awake, Mr. Dalzell, until I have been through the motions of a cold bath."
With that Darrin shut the door. From the bathroom came the sounds of a shower, followed by much splashing.
"Turn out the port watch, Mr. Dalzell," came, presently, through the closed bathroom door. "The bathroom watch is yours. Hose down, sir."
With that Dave stepped into his own room to dress. It was not long before the two young naval officers left their rooms, each carrying a suit case. To the top of each case was strapped a sword, emblem of officer's rank, and encased in chamois-skin.
Going below, the pair breakfasted, glancing, in the meantime, over morning newspapers.
Just before nine-thirty that same morning, our young naval officers, bent on joining their ship, stepped along briskly through the Brooklyn Navy Yard.
It was really an inspiring place. Sailors, marines and officers, too, were in evidence.