“Clif! I say, Clif! Wake up.”  
“What’s the matter?”
 
“Wake up, will you. There’s something in the wind.”
 
“Oh, go away, Toggles. Can’t you let a fellow sleep?”
 
“All right, if you want to see a chum hazed¹ by——”
 
“Hazed! Gorry! Who is it? Where—what——”
 
Clif Faraday swung lightly from his hammock, and confronted a tall, slim youth clad picturesquely² in a long nightshirt.
 
Clif himself was similarly attired³, and the single garment revealed to advantage his erect⁴, muscular figure. He was not over large for his seventeen years of age, but there was grace and strength in every line of his compact body.
 
“What is it, Toggles?” he queried⁵, hastily. “Did you say some one was getting hazed?”
 
“Yes. It’s Nanny.”
 
“Nanny? Gorry! Have they tackled that little chap? Who’s got him?”
 
“It’s Crane and his gang.”
 
Clif’s handsome teeth came together with a snap, and a queer, grim smile crossed his lips.
 
“Crane, eh?” he said. “He’s broke out again. And he has tackled Nanny as a starter. What do you know, Toggles?”
 
T. Oggles Andrews, or “Toggles,” as he was familiarly called by his plebe associates, made haste to reply.
 
Throwing one long, skinny leg over a convenient mess chest, he explained:
 
“White, that young landsman who has taken such a shine to you, told me a few minutes ago that he saw Crane and five others drag Nanny down the orlop deck ladder. They had the kid choked so he couldn’t resist or make a noise. I met White on deck and he put me onto the racket. He said he overheard them say they were going to raise merry hurrah⁶ with certain gally plebes.”
 
Clif laughed ominously⁷.
 
“I suppose they meant us,” he replied. “Well, we won’t wait until they look us up.”
 
While speaking he had taken his trousers from beneath the hammock mattress⁸ and was donning them.
 
“Call Trolley⁹ and the rest,” he added. “We will make a night of it ourselves. Methinks the old Monongahela will see some queer doings before the sun rises again.”
 
Toggles gave a chuckle¹⁰ and slipped under the hammocks to the other side of the deck. While he was away summoning reinforcements, Clif made a hurried scout¹¹ in the direction of the orlop deck hatchway, an opening in the forward part of the berth¹² deck.
 
The orlop on board a man-of-war of the Monongahela type is, it may be well to know, a place in the bow below the level of the berth deck. It is subdivided¹³ into small storerooms and has a narrow hallway into which the rooms open.
 
As it is down in the extreme lower part of the ship, away from the sleeping crew, it is an ideal place for certain ingenious ceremonies known in colleges as hazing¹⁴.
 
When Clif reached the edge of the hatchway, Nanny was just in the act of making the vociferous¹⁵ objections described at the beginning of this chronicle. His subsequent quieting at Crane’s hands, and that cadet’s remarks on the subject came plainly to Clif’s ears.
 
 
The latter, in his momentary¹⁶ anger, made a step down as if for the purpose of rescuing Nanny, but he thought better of it.
 
“They can’t do much harm to the youngster,” he murmured, “and if I interfere¹⁷ now it’ll spoil our scheme. It’s a good chance to teach those brutes¹⁸ another lesson. They have had more than one from us, but it seems they need more.”
 
He bent¹⁹ over the hatch and listened again. The berth deck was as quiet as the tossing and mumbling²⁰ and snoring of several hundred sleeping lads could permit, and Clif heard plainly the conversation being carried on below.
 
“He’s fixed²¹ now, the measly plebe,” growled²² a voice which Clif easily recognized as Crane’s. “He’s number one, and the smallest of the gang. I only wish it was Faraday.”
 
“You do, eh?” muttered the unseen listener, grimly. “Well, you’ll have me pretty soon, but not in the way you think.”
 
“I say, Crane,” spoke²³ up another muffled²⁴ voice, “don’t you think your scheme a little too risky²⁵? It’ll stir up the[Pg 19] whole ship and raise Cain generally. You know what the first luff said about hazers before we sailed.”
 
“Oh, bother the first luff. He’s an old woman. He forgets what he did in his second year. I’ve heard that he made a plebe eat tallow candles until he nearly died. Why, my plan is mild. What does varnishing²⁷ and painting a few measly plebes amount to, anyway. If you don’t like to take chances skip back to bed.”
 
“I’m not afraid, but I wouldn’t care to get fired this early in the course. What if Faraday or some of his chums split on us?”
 
“No fear of that,” quickly exclaimed the Georgia cadet. “Faraday may be fresh, but he’s not carrying tales.”
 
“Thanks,” murmured Clif, starting to leave the hatch. “I’m glad to see that I have one virtue²⁸. I’ll bear that remark in mind, masters. Humph! so they intend to make living oil paintings of us, eh? Well, we’ll see who comes out best in the—— Gorry!”
 
Rumble²⁹! thud!
 
A slippery spot near the hatchway sent Clif reeling against a stanchion. Before he could recover his equilibrium³⁰ he fell into the opening.
 
The hubbub³¹ created was enough to arouse the seven sleepers³² of Ephesus. Bang! went poor Clif’s heels against the sides of the passageway, and thud! he landed flat on his back at the bottom of the ladder.
 
He remained there half-stunned amid silence deep and profound for the space of a minute. Then he felt himself grasped by the back of the neck and yanked unceremoniously to his feet.
 
“Who in thunder is it?” gasped³³ a frightened voice.
 
“Blamed if I know, but he’s spoiled our fun, whoever it is,” was the angry response. “Scoot, fellows, the officer of the deck will be down on us like a thousand of brick.”
 
Clif, fully³⁴ recovered and in possession of his wits, heard a scrambling³⁵ near by, and the creaking of a ladder. It was too dark for him to see anything, but he knew that the would-be hazers were stampeding from the orlop deck.
 
He realized that his unfortunate mishap³⁶ would cause an alarm—in fact, there was already a bustling³⁷ above—but he was in no hurry to get back to bed or to let any of the Crane gang seek the seclusion³⁸ of their hammocks.
 
The rough treatment given little Nanny and the cool proposition to varnish²⁶ and paint several of the plebes had aroused a feeling of resentment³⁹ in Clif.
 
And he proceeded forthwith to make things warm for his enemies—the hazing committee of the third class.
 
Reaching out haphazard⁴⁰ in the darkness he grasped something soft and yielding. It was a leg. It was Clif’s turn to give something a yank, and he did so with a will.
 
“Let go! What do you mean, confound it! Let go, I say, or I’ll break your head.”
 
Clif calmly gave a second yank, and his victim sprawled⁴¹ back upon the deck.
 
“Stop that racket down there,” whispered a voice halfway⁴² up the ladder. “Sh-h! keep quiet and we’ll be all right. I don’t think they heard it on the quarter-deck.”
 
Clif released his hold of the leg. He saw it was time to retreat. As he started to slip up the ladder he remembered Nanny.
 
“It’ll never do to leave him in their hands,” he murmured.
 
Stepping back, he felt around for the little prisoner. It was all guesswork in the profound darkness, and he met with small success. At last he stumbled over some object which gave a muffled groan⁴³, but before he could investigate further he heard several cadets descending⁴⁴ the ladder.
 
“Everything all right?” whispered a voice near him.
 
“Yes,” came from Crane. “The officer of the deck is snoozing, I guess. The racket woke up the berth deck, but the fellows won’t bother us. I ran across that Jap, Trolley, near the hatch. He was prowling about as if he was onto us. We’ll have to wait now until things quiet down.”
 
“Who was the duffer who fell down the ladder?” asked another of the gang.
 
“Blamed if I know. Wonder if he got away?”
 
“Let’s search.”
 
Clif crouched⁴⁵ back in the darkness, and prepared to give a good account of himself. He knew he was no match for the six, third class cadets, but he trusted to receive reinforcements from his chums.
 
Then he felt assured the enemy would not resort to anything calculated to create confusion and alarm. Such a course would only result in their own undoing⁴⁶.
 
“Trolley and Toggles and the rest would come down here in a jiffy if they knew where I was,” he muttered. “As it is, I’ll have to go to them.”
 
Clif felt that he could escape by making a bold dash, but he wished to leave without revealing his identity to the hazers.
 
He had a scheme of his own, the very thought of which made him chuckle.
 
“I wonder if all these doors are locked,” he mused⁴⁷, slipping back away from the searchers. They were perilously⁴⁸ near and he had little time to spare.
 
Directly opposite him was a door leading into the medical storeroom. It was supposed to be locked, but Clif, in desperation, felt for the padlock.
 
It was unsnapped.
 
As quick as a flash he threw open the door, crept through and closed it behind him, all but a slight crack, which he left for the purpose of keeping in touch with the outside.
 
“I guess we must have been dreaming,” he heard Masters grumble⁴⁹.
 
“I guess not,” promptly⁵⁰ contradicted another cadet. “It was no dream nor nightmare, either. My leg is sore[Pg 24] yet where the fellow gripped it. And then the racket he made——”
 
“Oh, shut up!” growled Crane, who was evidently angry and discomfited⁵¹. “What’s the use of wasting time talking like that. Some one fell down here, of course. And I’ll bet a dollar it was that fresh plebe, Faraday. He’s always prowling around. The question is, where did he go? He couldn’t have passed me on the ladder.”
 
“I wonder if any of the storerooms are unlocked?” queried Masters.
 
Clif listened eagerly for the reply. It was reassuring⁵².
 
“Rats! Of course they are locked. Don’t talk nonsense, Masters.”
 
It was plainly evident Crane’s temper had not been sweetened by the experience of the past few moments.
 
“We won’t waste any more time looking for the beggar,” he added. “Let’s get up to the berth deck and find another plebe. Dodge⁵³, you stay and keep guard over Nanny. While we are gone you might amuse yourself decorating him for the grand appearance on the quarter-deck. You will find paint and varnish and oakum back of the ladder.”
 
 
A stifled⁵⁴ groan from the prisoner indicated that he had heard the instructions.
 
“You don’t like the prospect⁵⁵, eh?” grinned Crane. “Just wait, my fresh youngster. You’ll like it still less before we get through with you. Come, fellows, we’ll——”
 
Crane never finished the sentence, for a light suddenly appeared at the top of the ladder and a stern voice called out:
 
“Below there, what are you doing in the orlop? Come up here and report for investigation⁵⁶.”
 
Clif, peering through the crack in the door, saw the cadets fall over each other in their sudden panic. He felt the door snatched from his grasp, thrown back, a figure slipped in, then it was hastily closed again.
 
“Jumping Moses! what a snap,” came to Clif’s ears in a familiar tone. “What a snap to find this place open. That’s the officer of the watch!”
 
It was Crane!