“You’ll get your wish, if you go on the way you’ve been going!”

“Humph! I don’t believe the Benson boy carries the size or the weight to
put me ashore.”

“He doesn’t need any size or weight,” retorted Williamson, crisply. “If
Captain Benson wants you off this boat, it’s only the matter of a moment
for him to get a squad of marines on board—and you’ll march off to the
’Rogues’ March.’”

“So that’s the way he’d work it, eh?” demanded Sam Truax, turning green
and ugly around the lips.

“You bet it is,” retorted the machinist. “We’re practically a part of the
United States Navy for these few days, and naval rules will govern any
game we may get into.”

On that hint things went along better in the engine room. When Hal
Hastings came in to inspect he found nothing to criticise.

At the minute of eleven o’clock a squad of some twenty cadets came
marching down to the landing in front of the boat house. There Lieutenant
Commander Mayhew and one of his engineer officers met them. Two cutters
manned by sailors brought the party out alongside, where Jack and Hal
stood ready to receive them.

A very natty looking squad of future admirals came aboard, grouping
themselves about on the platform deck. It was rather a tight squeeze for
so many human beings in that space.