observed.

It was still broad daylight, for in summer the English twilight is a
long one, and darkness does not settle down until late.

"Oh, if we were only going ashore to-night!" murmured Hallam. There were
many others to echo the thought, but all knew that it could not be done.

"Couldn't we find a trick for slipping ashore after lights out?"
eagerly queried Dickey, who was not noted as a "greaser."

"Could we?" quivered Hallam, who, with few demerits against him, felt
inclined to take a chance.

But Pennington, to whom he appealed, shook his head.

"Too big a risk, Hally," replied Pen. "And trebly dangerous, with that
greaser, Darrin, in the class."

"Oh, stow that," growled Hallam. "Darrin is no greaser. You've got him
on your black books--that's all."

"He is a greaser, I tell you," cried Pennington fiercely.

There were a score of midshipmen in this group, and many of them nodded
approvingly at Pennington's statement. Though still a class leader, Dave
had lost some of his popularity since his report to the police of
Annapolis.

So the middies turned in, that night, with unsatisfied dreams of shore