There was quite a stir at the naval school, for a strange rumor was afloat.

“Some one” had said that one of the officers had said that there was to be a new cadet at the academy, appointed under peculiar circumstances; that is, he had no political status environing him.

He was to come bearing no congressman’s brand, and no partisan motive had prompted the President to appoint him as a “cadet midshipman-at-large.” The reason of his appointment was what had leaked out through this mysterious “some one.”

The rumor afloat had it that the newcomer had done some meritorious act which deserved recognition from the government, and he had received his orders to report at the naval academy.

What this gallant service was no one seemed to know, but, of course, all would discover as soon as the honored youth arrived at the academy, as he would be only too anxious to tell of his deeds of heroism.

The rumor also had it that the youth was a specimen of the genus homo from the coast of Maine, and a fisher lad from the State which in the past has so justly won the title of “Nursery of the Navy.”

Of course the blue bloods among the cadet midshipmen had their opinions as to what a fisher lad from the coast of Maine would be like.

Hardly setting him down as being like the earlier Florida coasters, half-horse, half-alligator, they still supposed that he must be a long-pointed, two-headed, web-footed, uncouth specimen of a youth who, if he passed the surgeon for height, chest measure and perfect health, would do so through a hope that he could in time be built up into a man, while, when the examining committee ran afoul of him with what the old farmer called the Three R’s—“Reading, ’Riting and ’Rithmetic”—the youth from Maine would haul down his colors at the first fire.

Human nature is said to be the same the world over, and certainly boy nature is. The only safety-valve a boy has for his extra flow of spirits is mischief, and young tars and soldier lads are certainly no exception to the rule, but, on the contrary, more given to pranks than other youths, on account of their severe training, for their fun must break forth when discipline unbends for hours of leisure.

With this homily upon my young friends, gleaned from having been “one of the same,” I will state that there were great expectations among the boy tars at the naval academy as to the newcomers in their midst, especially regarding the lad from Maine.

They longed to have him pass the doctors and the examining committee, for that would give them a chance, and several regretted that they did not know where to find him, that they might post him a little, “get the moss off his back,” as one mildly expressed it.

There were other appointees to arrive, of course, but the interest of these ancient mariners who had already served one or more years at the academy centered in the youth who was to come under circumstances out of the usual routine, a simple appointment by the congressman of his district.

The men of the third class were more particularly interested in the newcomers, as they had so lately been in the same predicament, while the older cadets of the second and first classes looked down with supreme contempt upon the “cubs,” only worthy of their attention if any fun could be gotten out of them.

So a detail was made to keep an eye upon the entrance gate to the academy grounds, where a marine and his musket constantly paced, for the arrival of the cubs, especially the lad from Maine.

The new appointees began to arrive on time, pale, nervous, and with forebodings of the future, some of them having read or heard that young gulls were plucked of their feathers by those who had risen to the height of sea eagles.

There was legendary lore on tap that new boys who ran the gauntlet of the sawbones and examiners were then taken in hand for instruction by the cadets by a process called hazing.

Now, the new men held somewhat of a hazy view of what hazing was exactly, as, though it was fun for the hazers, it might be death to the hazed, and they stood more in awe of their learned companions-to-be than they did of the commandant and his whole crew of professors.

And they were right, as many a man can testify to-day.

One by one the new men arrived at Annapolis, and turned their uneasy footsteps in the direction of the mecca of their hopes and fears.

They passed by the grim sentinel at the gate, and he knew them at a glance, try as they might to disguise their identity as appointees.

They went, according to orders, to report to the commandant, passed that ordeal, and faced another in the surgeon, who was all business, and as merciless as a guillotine.

Then they had reason to regret that they had not studied harder at school and played less, that they had not realized that spelling, reading, and a few other things were necessary to education.

Their handwriting was a scrawl which horrified them, and their pride took a tumble under the inquisition of an examination that shattered their vanity to atoms.

Some of them were undoubtedly greenhorns, others were city boys, with an air of assurance which the first broadside of their judges laid low, and others were quiet, diffident fellows, with the look about them to go in and win.

And while the cadets were watching and waiting for the coming of the lad appointed for meritorious services, they became interested in the splendid handling of a schooner rushing into port in a gale, and to their amazement the one at the helm landed and announced himself as:

“Mark Merrill, the man from Maine.”