Philip Perry, as he slowly shifted his bag to his other hand, glanced down the long line of stately defenders. “There she is, Syd,” he finally replied, pointing his free hand in the direction of one moored at the foot of the street. “The one with three smoke-stacks and eight turrets. What a beauty she is!” Philip Perry and Sydney Monroe were the names stenciled in bold type on the new traveling bags, and underneath the names in smaller capitals were the letters: U. S. N. Any one familiar with the navy could have told by a glance that they were midshipmen, just graduated from the Naval Academy at Annapolis and in the distribution of their class to the many ships of the navy, these two had received orders and were on their way to report for duty on board one of the powerful battle-ships lying directly before them. The four years’ course of study at Annapolis had filled their minds with a store of wisdom, and the rigorous outdoor drills had given to their bodies suppleness and strength. They were a sample of the finished output of the Naval National Academy. The picturesque life on the ocean would give them ample opportunity to benefit themselves and put to good use their stored-up knowledge. They were on the threshold of a new era, in which their character and professional worth would be valued by the success achieved. As they walked in silence toward their future home, their minds dwelt on the vast intricacies of this creation of steel, but these thoughts were quickly forgotten as they stepped over the side of the U. S. S. “Connecticut” and reported their arrival to the officer of the deck. They were wrapped in wonder at the work of getting a battle-ship ready for sea. Ammunition and stores were being taken on board from huge cargo barges with lightning rapidity by hundreds of strong bronzed sailormen. All was activity. The dockyard had completed its work on the steel hull and all hands seemed eager to breathe once more the pure air of the sea. Five minutes later they were grasping the welcoming hands of their future messmates--those midshipmen who had been graduated from Annapolis one short year ago, yet had mastered the mystery of many things which to the newcomers were as an unopened book. “The captain will see you both as soon as you are ready, sir,” the marine orderly reported to Phil. Donning their bright new uniforms, which had been the sole contents of their valises, and buckling on their swords, they were ushered into the captain’s spacious quarters. They found him brusque and businesslike. A hand to each in turn, with a firm manly pressure: “Glad to have you with us;” then to the attentive orderly: “Show these gentlemen to the executive officer,” and the ordeal was over. Phil and Sydney had no time for conversation during the next twenty minutes, while they found themselves hurried through the rounds of official formality and then sent to their quarters to unpack and be ready for immediate duty.