As for honors won the third year was but a repetition of the other two, and he entered upon the last year of his Naval School life with the goal of his ambition in sight, the chance of becoming the “first honor man.”
When the last day rolled around, the one that was to make or mar his hopes of winning or losing, he was pale but calm.
He had held his popularity with all, and they all wished him success.
He had held his place so well in his studies, his deportment, and through every duty and drill, that only a slip could send him to the rear.
There, among the visitors, was the Honorable Secretary of the Navy, and there, too, was the gallant old sailor who had been his friend, and who had been honored by promotion, and now appeared as Rear-Admiral Lucien.
“I dare not fail in their presence,” Mark Merrill had muttered to himself, and his face flushed as he suddenly beheld two others there with their eyes upon him.
Those two were his mother and Virgene Rich, the latter now grown into a beautiful young lady of twenty.
Dare he fail now? No, and he did not, for his name stood at the head of the list as number one.
And more, he was praised in no measured terms, and cheered in a manner that showed that his fellows were glad in their inmost hearts.
And that night when he appeared at the Naval Ball he was the cynosure of all eyes, and justly so, for a splendid, handsome fellow was this daring young sailor who had made such a brave fight for fame.