“That isn’t a clew line, you lubber.”  
“I—I thought——”
 
“What’s that? Thought? How dare you think? Shade of Farragut! What’s the service coming to? A confounded measly plebe—a worm of a function—thinking! It’s dreadful to contemplate¹.”
 
“Please, sir, I didn’t mean——”
 
“You didn’t mean? Why didn’t you mean? Say, is it possible you say things without meaning them? Then you don’t tell the truth. Ergo—you can’t be trusted. A pretty naval² officer you will make. I’ll just mark you down for report to the commanding officer.”
 
And Cadet Corporal Sharpe made an elaborate flourish of his pencil as he pretended to enter the item in his notebook.
 
Standing³ before him in evident fear and trembling was Nanny. Clif was also present.
 
“Did you ever hear the beat of that, Trolley⁴?” whispered Clif. “It’s simply outrageous⁵, the way Sharpe is carrying on. What does he take us for, a lot of dummies⁶? I think we’ll have to give him and the rest another lesson in manners.”
 
“I think so very much, Clif,” replied Trolley, in the same tone. “He what you call one dead-sure crank, eh? He bluffer⁷ from—from——”
 
“Bluffersville,” prompted Joy.
 
“Yes, him from Blufftown, eh? Him get a curve off him.”
 
There was a smile at this attempt of the Japanese youth to use American slang—a smile that was observed and sternly checked by the corporal.
 
“What’s that,” he exclaimed, sarcastically⁸. “Grinning during drill? Mean it as an insult to the service, I suppose.”
 
“Not exactly,” mildly replied Clif.
 
“Who told you to speak, Mr. Faraday. How dare you make remarks. Want to get swamped with demerits before this practice cruise of the Monongahela is over, I suppose. You haven’t nerve enough to run away, and you are afraid to resign, so you think you will misbehave yourself and get fired. I’m on to your little game, and, by Jupiter! I’ll help you.”
 
Out came the book, and the pencil was placed in action once more. As he closed his little book with a snap, he added:
 
“That means ten demerits at the very least. I see your finish, Mr. Faraday.”
 
Clif coolly shrugged⁹ his shoulders and glanced across the deck toward another group of plebes that was likewise being hazed¹⁰ by a cadet officer.
 
It was drill hour in the morning watch on board the Monongahela. The vessel¹¹ was still anchored near the mouth of Chesapeake Bay. It was considered necessary to allow the three classes on board to become accustomed to their new surroundings before venturing to sea, and for that reason progress was slow.
 
Cadet Corporal Sharpe, in charge of Clif and his chums was an expert “plebe deviler.” He had been known to drive timid and credulous¹² plebes to resign in desperation. And he had driven new fourth class men with more backbone¹³, to open revolt, which ultimately resulted in divers¹⁴ demerits for the said “mutineers.” All this to the unbounded satisfaction and joy of the hazer and his cronies.
 
That morning when orders were given to teach the plebe class the various ropes and their uses, Corporal Sharpe was assigned to the group composed of Clif, Trolley, Toggles, Joy, Nanny Gote, Chris Spendly, and Judson Greene.
 
The two last were not chums of Clif. In fact, they hated him most cordially, and, since their entrance into the academy, had tried in many underhand ways to “down” him.
 
Each attempt had resulted in their own discomfiture¹⁵, and of late they had kept rather quiet. Fate had placed them in the same squad¹⁶ with Clif this day, and they were eager to see if he would get into trouble with the cadet corporal.
 
From the appearance of affairs at the commencement of the lesson it certainly seemed that their desires would be gratified. Clif viewed with displeasure the young officer’s deviling of Nanny, as the little lad was an especial favorite of his.
 
The morning lesson was to consist of instruction in the different running ropes. At the very outset Cadet Corporal Sharpe had held up a manilla line leading aloft amid a perfect maze¹⁷ of others and had sharply demanded of Nanny its name.
 
The lad hazarded a guess and was immediately pounced¹⁸ upon as outlined at the commencement of this chapter. After noting down Clif’s offense¹⁹ in his book, the corporal proceeded with the lesson. And it was evident from his air of complacent²⁰ satisfaction that he thoroughly²¹ enjoyed the situation.
 
He took Clif in hand.
 
“You have put on more airs than an admiral since the academy was unfortunate enough to admit you,” he snarled²², “and it’s about time you found out that you do not run the whole show. You have raised the Old Nick in your own estimation, and, simply because you and your gang came out ahead in hazing²³ once or twice you think you can do as you please. What’s that—talking back to a superior officer, eh?”
 
Out came the book once more. Making an entry, the corporal restored it to his pocket.
 
Clif had not spoken, but that fact made little difference. The hazer was out for trouble.
 
Those standing near Clif saw two round, red spots appear upon his cheeks, but he was still apparently²⁵ cool.
 
Trolley and Toggles looked their disgust, but they had too wholesome²⁶ a respect for discipline to interfere²⁷.
 
Little Nanny—he was barely within the limits of size at the entrance examination—seemed troubled and excited. He was not a lad of very strong character, but he had one attribute, and that was faithful affection.
 
He liked Clif exceedingly. He admired him for his manliness²⁸, and looked upon him as ideal in every particular. His friendship for the sturdy plebe was that of the faithful dog for his master.
 
Now, while the cadet corporal was doing his utmost to provoke Clif into some breach²⁹ of discipline, Nanny watched and listened with a growing purpose in his heart.
 
Cadet Corporal Sharpe finally exhausted³⁰ his vocabulary of invectives, and was forced to resume the instruction. The group was gathered about the forward pin rail to which a portion of the running rigging leads.
 
The young non-commissioned officer knew his business, however overbearing and tyrannical he might be. The maze of ropes leading here and there was not a maze to him.
 
Placing his hand on one he said, abruptly³¹, still addressing Clif:
 
“This is the fore-to-’gallant halliards. What is it’s use, sir?”
 
“To hoist³² the fore-to-’gallant yard, sir,” was Clif’s prompt reply.
 
“Humph! it’s a wonder you knew that. Who told you? Where did you read it? Humph! I guess you don’t know much more. Now, what’s this?”
 
He touched a thin manilla rope apparently twisted with several others. Clif looked aloft trying to follow it with his eye.
 
“What are you gaping³³ about?” snapped the corporal.
 
Greene and Spendly exchanged grins. Clif’s face reddened slightly, and a peculiar³⁴ smile, ominous³⁵ and dangerous, crossed his lips.
 
“I must confess I do not recognize it,” he began. “But I think——”
 
“Think!” Corporal Sharpe cried. “We want no thinking here. You confess, eh? Why don’t you confess the truth—that you are a dunce, a blamed idiot. A——”
 
There was a startling interruption.
 
Before he could finish the sentence Nanny sprang from the group and flung himself upon the young officer. There was a sharp clasp, a second blow, then the corporal staggered back with his assailant clinging to his throat.
 
The sudden attack was conceived and made in the twinkling of an eye. It was a complete surprise to Cadet Corporal Sharpe and to all who witnessed it. Clif and his friends stared in open-mouthed wonder for a moment, then the former sprang forward to separate the two.
 
By that time, however, the cadet corporal, who was much stronger than Nanny, had shaken him off. Sharpe was white with rage.
 
“What do—do you mean, you fool?” he gasped³⁶. “How dare you lay hands on me? I’ll——”
 
He drew back his clinched³⁷ fist to strike the younger lad, but his wrist was grasped firmly, and a cool voice said:
 
“Don’t touch him, sir. If he is to be punished, let the proper persons attend to it.”
 
“Mind your own business, Faraday,” snapped Sharpe, jerking his wrist from Clif’s grasp. “I’ll have you soaked for interfering³⁸. As for that crazy plebe, he’ll be fired for this.”
 
Just then the officer of the deck and Lieutenant³⁹ Watson, the executive officer, who had been attracted by the commotion⁴⁰, came hurrying forward.
 
Nanny, who seemed in a daze⁴¹, caught sight of them. Fear for his rash action and a vague idea of the punishment he had incurred⁴², sent the color from his cheeks.
 
He gave one appealing glance toward Clif, then he made a spring for the port foremast shrouds⁴³.
 
“Hi! Stop!” called out the first lieutenant.
 
“Catch him, some one,” ordered the officer of the deck.
 
A rush was made after the lad, in which both Spendly and Judson Greene took active part, but they were a second too late.
 
Nanny’s lack of experience was more than overbalanced by his fear, and he flew up the ratlines like a reefer.
 
The pursuers were on the point of crowding into the rigging when a stern command came from Lieutenant Watson.
 
“Stop! What is the meaning of this uproar⁴⁴? Who is that cadet, Corporal Sharpe?”
 
“It is a new fourth class man, sir. His name is Gote, Mr. Nanny Gote, sir.”
 
As “Nanny” was simply a nickname given the lad by the cadets, this method of putting it provoked a laugh among the spectators. But Lieutenant Watson quickly checked it.
 
“This is no variety show,” he exclaimed. “I want to know the meaning of this disgraceful scene. What is that cadet doing up there?”
 
“He ran away, sir.”
 
“Why?”
 
“Because—because he was afraid, sir,” stammered⁴⁵ the Cadet corporal, growing red in the face.
 
“Afraid of what?”
 
Only small persons in this world—small in nature—bully those under them. Corporal Sharpe was possessed⁴⁶ of an extremely small and narrow spirit, and he delighted in showing his petty authority and in doing his utmost to make life unpleasant for those over whom he could exercise his will.
 
His reputation as a “plebe hazer” was well established among the cadets themselves, but it had not reached the ears of his superior officers. He knew that, and he lost no time in taking advantage of the fact.
 
“I’ll tell you all about it, sir,” he said, boldly. “I was giving this squad of plebes—er—new fourth class men instructions in seamanship when Mr. Gote, not liking⁴⁷ a rebuke⁴⁸ caused by his own inattention, made an entirely⁴⁹ unprovoked assault on me.”
 
A murmur⁵⁰, faint but distinct, ran through the group of plebes, and Clif stepped forward as if with the intention of speaking. Before he could commence, Sharpe pointed⁵¹ him out, and added, triumphantly⁵²: “And that cadet helped him, sir. His name is Mr. Faraday, and he is as guilty as the other.”
 
The speaker glanced toward Judson Greene and Chris Spendly as if seeking confirmation⁵³. Their hatred⁵⁴ of Clif was an old story to the cadets of the Naval Academy. He was not disappointed in his anticipations⁵⁵.
 
“That’s right,” said Greene, audibly.
 
“Sure thing,” spoke²⁴ up Spendly.
 
“Do you mean to tell me they actually attacked you while you were on duty over them?” exclaimed the executive officer, in amazement⁵⁶.
 
“Yes, sir. And it was entirely unprovoked,” glibly⁵⁷ replied Corporal Sharpe. “They are troublesome pupils, sir. This isn’t the first time they have broken the rules.”
 
“Nor is it the first time you have told a deliberate lie, Cadet Corporal Sharpe!”
 
The words came like the snap of a whip from Clif’s lips. Stepping forward, he placed himself directly before the young non-commissioned officer.
 
His face was calm, but a peculiar, mirthless smile hovered⁵⁸ about the corners of his mouth. It was a smile known to his intimate friends as a certain indication of strong emotion.
 
“What is that, sir?” cried the executive officer. “How dare you give the lie to a superior officer? Lieutenant Masters, place him under arrest, and notify the captain!”