"It certainly is a shame, Dick, you cannot go to Annapolis in my place," remarked Gordon, regretfully; "you already know more than all of us combined about the Navy. But do you know, seeing these ships to-day and the businesslike way they do things has stirred my blood. It is just wonderful! But for the life of me I cannot see how a chap can learn all there is to know about them in only four years. I rather think I shall have to do some pretty hard digging if I ever expect to be a naval officer." "Keep your ship afloat, Admiral Graham, and hard digging won’t be necessary," interposed Tommy, and a roar of laughter followed his quip, as was usually the case. The boys now began rowing towards the flagship, which in anchoring had gone several hundred yards beyond them. Nearing her, the strains of a lively march were heard, and an officer in cocked hat, gold lace and epaulettes, went down the gangway into a waiting motor boat. No sooner had the officer stepped into the boat than she scurried away for the shore landing. Again the boys stopped to watch proceedings. When the motor boat started from the gangway one of the sailors on deck blew a shrill call on a pipe and the khaki-clad line of men, who had been standing immovably with their rifles at the position of "present arms," brought them to the deck as if actuated by a single lever, and a moment later they were marched away. "Those soldiers are marines, aren’t they?" asked Robert. "Anyway, they are dressed the same as the marines up at the Navy Yard." "Sure they are marines," answered Tommy; "I know all about ’em, for my Uncle Fred was a marine officer once. He swears by ’em, and says they are the best fighters in the world." This was Robert Meade’s first year at Bankley High School, having spent all his life previously in an up-state town, and the soldier element on board ship was not clear in his mind. "I always used to think that the marine was a sailor," said he. "At least, most of the papers half the time must be wrong, for you see pictures supposed to be marines landing at this or that place and they are almost always dressed as sailors." "That’s because the papers don’t know anything," commented Tommy indignantly. "Why, the marines are the oldest branch of the service; older than the Navy or the Army. Aren’t they, Dick?" "Well, to tell the truth," Dick answered, "I’m a bit hazy about marines myself. Of course I’ve seen them around town and on the ships all my life, off and on, but I’ve been so much more interested in the work of a sailor that I haven’t paid much attention to the military end of it." "The marine is ’soldier and sailor too,’" said Tommy, sententiously. "That English poet, Kipling, says he can do any darned thing under the sun; and if all my uncle tells me is true, it must be so. He was a volunteer officer of marines in the war with Spain and fought in Cuba with them."