Just then out of the cabin came Mark Merrill, dressed as before, in a very natty sailor costume.

He had heard all that had passed, and suppressing a smile, politely saluted the midshipman, for he certainly wished no more trouble upon his dÉbut as one of Uncle Sam’s middies.

“There’s the capting now, Officer Buttons,” growled Skipper Jasper Crane to the midshipman, pointing toward Mark Merrill, as he stepped on deck.

“That!” exclaimed the middy, as he beheld a lad not as old as himself, rigged up in a dandy style.

“Yes, that, and he’s more of a sailor to-day than half your men-o’-war trained jim-cranks,” and turning to Mark, the old skipper continued:

“Capting Merrill, this is a young gent from the big gun craft yonder who sprung his catechism on me until I got weary, so I tarns him over to you.”

“How can I serve you, sir?” asked Mark, with extreme politeness.

“Do you own this schooner, sir?” asked the middy, somewhat amazed at finding so youthful a skipper.

“I may say that I do, sir.”

“You are her captain?”

“At present, yes, sir, Mark Merrill, at your service; but I expect to relinquish my vessel to good Captain Crane here within an hour or so.”

“May I ask why you sought an anchorage here in the Naval Academy harborage?”

“I am a stranger, sir, in this port, but came under orders to report as a cadet midshipman, so ran my vessel here to anchor. I trust I have broken no law, sir?”

The polite manner of Mark, his pleasant smile, quite disarmed the young officer, while he was surprised at his words that told he had come under orders as an appointee to the academy.

“No, sir, you have broken no set law, only it is uncommon for other than government vessels to run in here. But I shall report who you are and the reason of your coming.”

“Permit me also to say, sir, that my schooner will put to sea to-night, so that she will remain here but a couple of hours at the farthest.”

The midshipman bowed, then did the manly thing, for he extended his hand and said:

“Allow me to welcome you to the academy, Mr. Merrill, and hope that you will pass the ordeal of entrance with flying colors. My name is Ernest Rich.”

The name recalled the sweet face of Virgene Rich to Mark, and he grasped the extended hand with real warmth, while he said:

“I thank you for your kind wishes, Mr. Rich.”

Then he escorted the midshipman to his boat, told him he was just going ashore to report, and soon after the gig of the vessel of war pulled away he went over the side into his surf-skiff.

“Don’t yer think we’d better go ashore with yer, Master Mark?” asked Captain Crane dubiously.

“No, indeed, thank you.”

“These young fellers all seems practicing to scare ordinary folks; but, Lord love ’em, they is a clever lot o’ young sea cubs arter all, and in war times they can outfight a shark.”

Leaving good skipper Crane moralizing upon cadet midshipmen in general, Mark let fall his oars and sent his skiff shoreward.

It was an off-duty time at the academy, and the cadets were there whom he had left, with more who had been summoned to swell the procession. It had leaked out just who Mark Merrill was, for Commodore Lucien had been on a visit to the commandant, and had told of the pluck of the boy pilot of Hopeless Haven.

Then, too, the Secretary of the Navy had written a personal letter to the commandant, so of course it went the rounds that the “new man from Maine was a hero.”

Having made the discovery, Cadet Captain Byrd Bascomb and his clique meant to give the sailor lad a welcome, especially as they had found in him one who was a square good fellow.

When Mark landed he was somewhat nonplussed at the intention of the cadets to honor him.

They welcomed him with a hurrah, and Winslow Dillingham was on hand, as he expressed it:

“As dry as a ship on the ways.”

He offered his hand cordially, and said:

“We are quits now, aren’t we?”

“Do not speak of it,” was the ready reply, and as he could not help himself Mark’s arm was locked in that of Cadet Captain Byrd Bascomb, who gave the command as he took the head of the column:

“Column forward! march!”

Up to the commandant’s quarters they marched, a line was formed, and the “great mogul,” as the lads facetiously called their chief, supposed when he saw them that they had some grievance to complain of.

When the commandant appeared the cadets saluted, and waited for him to speak, Mark meanwhile, his face flushed with embarrassment, standing by the side of Byrd Bascomb and inwardly regretting that he had ever decided to come to the Naval Academy.

“Don’t skedaddle at the first sight of the enemy,” whispered Cadet Captain Byrd Bascomb, realizing how Mark Merrill felt at such an introduction to the commandant of the academy.

Under this advice Mark braced up, while the commandant asked in his pleasant way:

“Well, Cadet Captain Bascomb, may I ask why I am honored with this visit?”

This appealed to the young cadet officer, who prided himself upon his speech-making, and was always glad to get a chance to display his oratory, saluted, and responded:

“We are here, most respected commander, to present to you one who boarded the academy grounds by way of the harbor and over the sea wall.

“He asked the way to your quarters, and discovering in him the young hero who won his appointment to the service, which is more than any of us were guilty of, we came as a convoy to conduct him to your presence, and I beg to introduce Mr. Mark Merrill.”