No Moss; Or, The Career of a Rolling Stone

by Harry Castlemon

Since the advent of the Storm King, there had been a hot rivalry existing between the military and naval portions of the academy, and many a stormy debate had been held as to the relative merits of the two

branches of the service. The military officers said that the navy would do well enough to convey transports of troops in time of war, and that was all it was good for. The hard fighting was always done on the land, and the victories that decided the war were gained by the soldiers.

"Sour grapes!" Harry would always reply. "If I were in your places, I would not run down a thing, after trying my best to win it. You landlubbers burned gallons of midnight oil in preparing for the naval examination. I heard more than one among you say that he would rather be a midshipman than major of the battalion; and now, because you failed to gain any position on board the yacht, the navy is of no account. As for hard fighting—why, fellows, you must have forgotten your history, if you ever knew any thing about it. Take the case of the Bon Homme Richard, in her fight with the Serapis! The action lasted three hours and a half, and, during that time, one hundred and fifty, out of the three hundred and twenty men who composed the crew of the Richard, were killed and wounded. The loss on board the Serapis was about the same. Nearly one-half the men on board the two vessels fell in the fight, and that is something you never heard of in a modern land engagement. And, more than that, the fire of the enemy was not the only thing Commodore Jones had to contend with. The Richard was in flames from the beginning. In the heat of the action she sprang a leak, and the master-at-arms, believing that she was about to sink, released a hundred British prisoners who were confined in the hold."

"Didn't he deserve to be pitched overboard?" asked Jackson.

"This thing can never be decided by argument, fellows," said Major Williams. "I wish something would turn up, so that we might have a chance to show ourselves."

"So do I," answered Harry. "We would soon convince you that the infantry of the Newport Academy is a slow coach compared with its navy."

But for a long time that "something" did not "turn up," and the rival students despaired of ever having an opportunity to test their respective abilities. If Tom Newcombe had only been there to organize another runaway expedition; or if some discontented boy could be found to take his place! But no one thought of deserting the academy now that the grand commander was gone, and the students, determined to excel their opponents in every thing, devoted themselves to their studies. Each side put forward its best scholars for the valedictory and other academic honors, and some of those who were the loudest in denouncing the navy, picked out the offices on board the yacht that they thought themselves competent to fill, and worked night and day to prepare for the examination. But now came Tom Newcombe and his band of outlaws, and gave them the very opportunity they had so long wished for. To the soldiers he did not come so much as an incendiary as a solution. They wanted to capture him simply to beat the navy. The reason why Packard was in no hurry to go back to the academy was, because if he and his boat's crew were ordered to join their company, they would be obliged to work against their favorite branch of the service, and they wanted to assist it by every means in their power.

When the jolly-boat had left the yacht, Harry took his stand on the quarter-deck, and watched the shoals as closely as ever a cat watched a mouse. His crew was now reduced to seven men—a small force with which to board the Sweepstakes, but still the first lieutenant wished she would come out. He knew that his note to Captain Steele would bring all the troops at the academy about the cove, and he was impatient to have the work done before they arrived. The captain would soon be on hand to take command of the vessel, and then, if the Crusoe men were captured by the navy, the lion's share of the honors would fall upon the shoulders that wore the double anchors. Captain Steele was a great man at the academy already, and he did not need any more glory; but Harry did. It might be a point in his favor at the next examination. He kept the yacht sailing back and forth, as close to the entrance to the channel as he dared to go, ready at an instant's warning to intercept the pirate captain; but he never came. Somebody else came, however. It was the midshipman with his company of small-armed men. He had built a bridge in ten minutes after Tom destroyed the other, and led his men at a reckless pace down the path into the cove, only to find it deserted. He met no desperate Crusoe band, drawn up in battle array, to dispute his advance. There was the cabin they had occupied, and a few useless articles they had left scattered about, but nothing was to be seen of them or their vessel.

"They are captured now," exclaimed the midshipman, joyfully. "They have put out to sea again, and I expect they are in Harry Green's clutches by this time."

Richardson frantically searched every nook and corner of the cove, to satisfy himself that the pirates had really abandoned their harboring place, and then returned with his men to the top of the cliff, and led them toward the yacht. The young tars went pell-mell down the bank, falling over rocks and logs, and scrambling through bushes, that made sad work with their new uniforms. They expected to find the crews of the two vessels engaged in a desperate fight; and fearing that Harry, with his small force, might get the worst of the encounter, they were in a great hurry to reach the sloop. A minute's delay on their part might give the pirates time to beat off the boarding party and escape. Breathless and excited, Richardson halted on the bank, and there was the yacht, sailing tranquilly back and forth, and not another vessel in sight.