“And here’s my hand, sir, as a friend,” said Cadet Captain Byrd Bascomb.
“Don’t overlook my extended grip,” cried Cadet Sergeant Neil Carrol.
And so it went on until Cadet Lieutenant Frank Latrobe seemed to be suddenly inspired with a thought for he asked, eagerly:
“I say, my friend, are you not the youth who was appointed by the President?”
“I was appointed at large, sir, yes.”
“And it was for services rendered, was it not?”
“It was from the kindness of the Secretary of the Navy and Commodore Lucien, rather.”
“You are the man we have been told of. Go aboard your flagship, put on your dry togs, and we’ll march you to the commandant at a quick step.”
The cadets showed that this advice chimed in with their humor, and springing into his boat, Mark sent it flying back toward the schooner, while the dripping Dillingham was surrounded by a squad of friends, to hide his condition, and marched off to his room to also get on dry clothes.
“Keep him there, Nazro, until I can get ready, for I wish to be in the procession,” said Winslow Dillingham, as he dove into his room to change his clothes, glad to escape the argus-eyed officers about the buildings and grounds.