In this speech it was easy to recognize the intonation of a formula. The man spoke without enthusiasm, apparently without the least hope that his advice would be followed. He was doing his duty, that was all. John chose as his three subjects, Higher Mathematics, French, and Naval History; the first because it was necessary in Gunnery, and the last because it was a subject after his own heart. The examination consisted in the writing of an essay with the aid of books. There were three years in which to write it. He intended, as he said ambitiously in a letter home, to “write a big essay in chapters, and if possible to publish it later as a book.” When he suggested this to the Padre, the Padre smiled. “I am afraid you have literary tendencies,” he said. “I like books,” John answered. The Padre looked away from him and talked to the open scuttle. “It would be better from the Service point of view if you liked mechanics. They promise very rapid promotion to those who specialize in Engineering.” “I don’t think I should do well as an engineer, sir.” “Perhaps not. Make your own choice.... Do you care for poetry?” “Yes, sir.” The Padre looked at him sharply, an odd expression in his eyes, as if memories were pressing on him. “I have a few books there,” he said, pointing to his cabin shelves. “Borrow them if you like, but don’t leave them sculling about the Gunroom--they wouldn’t like volumes of verse. And don’t give too much thought to them, old man. They won’t make you happier here.” “Why not, sir,” asked John, “if I like them?” “Because--oh, never mind why not.... Think over the question of Voluntary Subjects, Lynwood, and send in the next midshipman, will you please?” II The next two days were spent in sailing to Portland and in coaling ship. On their first evening in Portland the junior midshipmen had their earliest experience of Gunroom Evolutions. In this instance the Evolutions were comparatively mild, being in a manner introductory to the more serious business which was begun when the _King Arthur_ put to sea. But these preludes, which began on a Thursday and were repeated on the following Saturday and Monday, were enough to provide for the junior midshipmen an engrossing subject of conversation whenever they were beyond the hearing of their seniors. John and Fane-Herbert landed together on Tuesday afternoon. “Thank God,” said Fane-Herbert, “we are out of that for a few hours.” “Do you think it will happen again this evening?” “I don’t know. It can’t happen every evening.... I shouldn’t mind so much if it were a punishment of some kind--if they even pretended that we had done something wrong. As it is, they chase us for an hour, and then offer us drinks, and then chase us again.” “I think I would rather that,” John answered, “than that they should be avowed enemies. One feels, at any rate, that they are not doing it out of any personal spite against us. They seem to do it largely because they feel they must.”