Scott Clemmons was a remarkably politic young man for one of his years.
He had seen the gathering of the cadets, and recognized Mark Merrill in
their midst, and it had made him envious and hateful.
One whom he hated was coming under flying colors, it seemed.
Wondering how Mark had gotten his appointment, and angry because he had
done so, he saw that he was made a hero of from the start, or else why
this popular demonstration in his favor.
“Of course he will never pass the examinations, for he is too ignorant
for that,” he said to himself.
Then had the commandant re-entered with Mark Merrill, and the vain
youth had sneered at the sailor-boy appearance of the lad, and thought
what a far greater impression he would make in his fine clothes and
polished manner.
It was in a pitying way he had referred to Mark’s being a fisher lad,
and he meant to condescend to shake hands with him when introduced, but
got the cut in this from the one he intended to patronize.
Seeing that he had made a mistake, from the commandant’s severe
reproof, the cunning youth meant to atone from policy, to give his
actions an air of manliness, so he quickly said:
“I really intended no slight, commandant, but something occurred once
of an unpleasant nature between Merrill and myself, in which I am free
to admit I was at fault, so I frankly offer my hand now in friendship,
if he will accept it.”
The commandant seemed pleased at this, and glanced at Mark.
He was a splendid reader of human nature, could from his great
experience tell the inner workings of the heart, which the face was
striving to hide, and he saw that Mark Merrill had some bitter cause
of quarrel against Scott Clemmons, deeper by far than the latter cared
to admit or had implied. But the good nature of the young sailor
triumphed, and he said:
“I will accept Mr. Clemmons’ hand in friendship, sir, if he means it in
good faith.”
There was a world of meaning in the words: “If he means it in good
faith.”
The eyes of Mark Merrill looked unflinchingly upon the face of Scott
Clemmons, but he did not meet the gaze, and his face flushed painfully.
This that keen observer, the commandant, saw, and he read who had been
the transgressor in the past.
“Now, Mr. Merrill, as Mr. Clemmons had just reported when you were
convoyed into port, as Cadet Bascomb expressed it, I will hear what he
was about to say to me and then give my attention to you.”
Mark bowed, while the commandant read a letter from Merchant Clemmons,
whom he had once met, and he took the liberty of inclosing a liberal
check for the use of his son--the same as he might have done had he
been sending him to boarding-school.
“I shall return this check to your father, Clemmons, and explain the
situation of a cadet here, after I have heard whether you pass the
examinations or not, which are before you,” and the commandant seemed
not over-pleased with Merchant Clemmons’ letter.
Then he turned to Mark, and continued:
“Mr. Merrill, I am glad to welcome one to the academy who comes as you
do, and I only hope that you, as well as Mr. Clemmons here, may not
find the physical and mental examination too great a stumbling-block
for you to surmount.
“Commodore Lucien has spoken of you to me, and of what a devoted son
you have been to your mother, and it is just such boys that make the
greatest men.
“The surgeon and examining committee are now ready for you, and my
orderly will conduct you to their quarters.
“I wish you success, young gentlemen,” and the commandant bowed the two
youthful seekers after fame out, placing them under the guidance of an
orderly.
Surgeon Du Bose received the appointees pleasantly, there being one
other youth in his quarters just drawing on his coat after having
learned the sad tidings that his chest expansion was below the average,
and his general physical condition not such as to warrant his being
accepted as a cadet.
The poor fellow cast an envious look at the fine forms of Mark Merrill
and Scott Clemmons, and the latter gave him a pitying look of almost
contempt, as though to wonder how he had dared anticipate being
accepted. Then the usual formula was gone through with, Scott Clemmons
being first examined, and his confident smile showed that he knew that
he, at least, had “passed.”
Then came Mark’s turn, and as he stripped for the ordeal the surgeon
gave a low whistle, a decided expression of admiration of the lad’s
physique.
His name, age, height, weight, chest measure and expansion were all
taken, his muscular developments noted, and the questions asked
regarding having had any broken bones and other injuries of a harmful
character. His bones were as straight as arrows, his eyesight was put
to a crucial test and marked as “phenomenal,” and his health put down
as perfect.
His pendulum of life, the heart, swung with the regularity of
clockwork, and not a flaw was found in his teeth, which were white,
even and firm.
A frown passed over the brow of Scott Clemmons as he noted the fact
that Mark Merrill had stood the test better than he had, proud as he
was of his fine form and handsome face.
“It is seldom, if ever, I meet a youth of your perfection of physique,
Mr. Merrill,” said Surgeon Du Bose, in a complimentary way, and Scott
Clemmons turned his head away to hide his plainly visible chagrin at
the praise bestowed upon the young sailor.
Assured that they had passed the physical ordeal the two youths went to
face the examining committee, who were to decide as to what they did or
did not know.
“Here he will fail,” muttered Scott Clemmons, with malign hope that
such would be the case.
Quickly they were put to the test, and when the hours of alternate hope
and despair were over each knew that the other had passed, and Scott
Clemmons fairly ground his teeth with rage, as he heard Lieutenant
Briggs, one of the examiners, say in reference to Mark Merrill’s very
fine penmanship:
“I saw you run your schooner in, Mr. Merrill, and you handle a pen as
well as you do the tiller. I congratulate you that no barrier is now
between you and your cadetship.”
“Curse him!” muttered Scott Clemmons. “He passed better than I did; but
he shall yet be dismissed in disgrace--I swear it!”