"Mister," to Darrin, "launch your boat on this water here."
Plainly the "water" signified the floor. Dave brought out his
own wash basin with alacrity. Under further orders the chums
placed their bowls about four feet apart.
"Here," announced Midshipman Trotter, taking two toothpicks from
a pocket, "are a pair of oars."
Dave Darrin received the toothpicks with a grin.
"And here are your oars, mister," supplemented Mr. Trotter, handing
another pair of toothpicks to Dan Dalzell.
At this instant a faint knock was heard at the door, which opened
immediately after.
"Got a pair of beasts at work, fellows?" asked a voice. "Here
are some more young admirals who need a little help."
Four new midshipmen, in the custody of three youngsters, now stepped
into the room and the door was closed.
"Bender's in charge of the floor tonight, you know," nodded one
of the newly-arrived youngsters, "and Bender's duty-crazy. Besides,
he belongs to the second class, and hardly admits that we're alive.
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