“I suppose ef I don’t tell yer, you’ll tarn yer big guns on the craft; but as I said, I am only the mate, and the captain will be on deck in a minute, for he is down below changing his clothes, having just thrown a young admiral in the drink, and then had to jump in and pull him out to keep him from drowning, so you better be uncommonly polite to him, as the water are handy and real wet, too.” The midshipman felt that he was being made fun of. He saw the smiles on the lee side of the faces of his boat’s crew, and he knew that they saw that he was getting worsted. His orders were simply to board the schooner and ascertain her name and business in the anchorage she had chosen. That was all. Much breath had been consumed thus far in conversation, and he had discovered nothing. He was getting angry, and yet it came to him that disciplining himself was one of the first things taught at the Naval School. If he could not command himself, he certainly could not expect to command men. He saw that he had struck a rough old hulk, one that could be towed, but not rowed, and he decided to change his manner of attack by demanding to see the owner or captain of the vessel. CHAPTER XVI. UNDER CONVOY. Just then out of the cabin came Mark Merrill, dressed as before, in a very natty sailor costume. He had heard all that had passed, and suppressing a smile, politely saluted the midshipman, for he certainly wished no more trouble upon his _début_ as one of Uncle Sam’s middies. “There’s the capting now, Officer Buttons,” growled Skipper Jasper Crane to the midshipman, pointing toward Mark Merrill, as he stepped on deck. “That!” exclaimed the middy, as he beheld a lad not as old as himself, rigged up in a dandy style. “Yes, that, and he’s more of a sailor to-day than half your men-o’-war trained jim-cranks,” and turning to Mark, the old skipper continued: “Capting Merrill, this is a young gent from the big gun craft yonder who sprung his catechism on me until I got weary, so I tarns him over to you.” “How can I serve you, sir?” asked Mark, with extreme politeness. “Do you own this schooner, sir?” asked the middy, somewhat amazed at finding so youthful a skipper. “I may say that I do, sir.” “You are her captain?” “At present, yes, sir, Mark Merrill, at your service; but I expect to relinquish my vessel to good Captain Crane here within an hour or so.” “May I ask why you sought an anchorage here in the Naval Academy harborage?” “I am a stranger, sir, in this port, but came under orders to report as a cadet midshipman, so ran my vessel here to anchor. I trust I have broken no law, sir?” The polite manner of Mark, his pleasant smile, quite disarmed the young officer, while he was surprised at his words that told he had come under orders as an appointee to the academy. “No, sir, you have broken no set law, only it is uncommon for other than government vessels to run in here. But I shall report who you are and the reason of your coming.”