Of course Scott Clemmons became a mortal enemy of Herbert Nazro after
his first drill in the awkward squad, under the command of that most
efficient young officer.
He dared not come out in open rebellion, as he well knew what that
would mean to him; but he treasured up for Nazro a bitter feeling and a
hope of revenge in the future when the chance should come in his way.
To be rebuked before Mark Merrill cut him deeper than if it had been
before the entire corps, for he had tried to impress Mark with his
importance.
He had watched Mark’s face for some sign of rejoicing, but even his
ill-nature had failed to detect there any expression of triumph.
Fisher lad though Mark Merrill had been, the spoiled and petted child
of fortune, Scott Clemmons, was intensely jealous of him.
He feared the reserve power of the youth who had gotten an appointment
to the naval school by his own acts, when, with all his father’s
influence, he had found it no easy task to accomplish it.
Then, too, Mark had entered with a kind of hurrah, and more, he had
passed the surgeon and examining committee under flying colors, while
his first drill had been marked by no grave error upon his part.
There were lads at the academy to toady to the riches and influence of
Scott Clemmons, and so that youth at once found a following among them.
To his willing “satellites” Scott Clemmons, from a knowledge of his own
nature, judged Mark, believing that the young sailor would inform his
friends of the affair of the toy ship and what followed. He had told
his version of the affair, and soon through the corps went the story of
enmity between the two “men from Maine,” as they were called.
Had Scott Clemmons been less arrogant, Herbert Nazro would not have
been so severe upon him as he was.
But all new cadets must expect hard times the first year they enter
into Uncle Sam’s service as baby tars.
In his studies Mark went to work with the determination to win, and a
feeling began to creep over the class in which he was that he meant to
be a dangerous man in the race for honors.
Scott Clemmons understood this more keenly than any one else, and he
began to feel his inferiority in spite of his vanity, so he decided
that the only way to beat Mark Merrill was to get him out of the
academy.
He sized up the others of the class, and felt that, with a struggle, he
could lead for honors, but Mark Merrill was dangerous, and intended to
see to it that his threat to leave him behind was carried out.
Demerits against a cadet would upset all standing for good lessons,
perfect drill and attention to duties, and that these ugly little
demerit marks could be readily gotten from the slightest causes Scott
Clemmons soon discovered. He accordingly induced his roommate to enter
into a plot against the unsuspecting young sailor.
When rigged out in his uniform Mark Merrill was certainly a very
handsome and striking-looking lad.
The corps tailor had complimented him by saying he had never measured a
finer formed lad for his clothes, and seldom one his equal.
Fortunately for the new men, there had recently been several dismissals
from the academy of “hazers,” so that no great indignities were heaped
upon Mark and the others.
Still they came in for their share of petty jokes played upon them, all
of which Mark submitted to as really a part of the discipline of the
institution.
He was universally good-natured, dignified, yet courteous to all, and
on duty and in study hours nothing could move him from what he deemed
right.
He was a favorite with the officers, popular with his comrades, and yet
for all that there seemed to be some mysterious undercurrent working
against him.
Once his cap was missing, and he was absent at roll call, so a demerit
went against him; but he did not report that his cap had been cleverly
taken from his room by some one.
Another time he could not find his shoes for parade, and again a
demerit went down against his name.
A third time his handsome uniform was disfigured by enormous ink
stains, and he knew that he was no more responsible for that than he
had been for his missing hat and shoes.
His books, too, became disfigured in some mysterious way, and one
morning he was reported as having been caught out of his room at night
when he had been fast asleep in bed.
So Mark Merrill, without a word in his own defense, had been put on the
list for a reprimand and punishment.
These constant demerits were counting up sadly against Mark, until he
knew that by the end of his first year they would be so formidable as
to mean dismissal. Yet what could he do to save himself?
He was innocent of wrong-doing, and though he suspected his persecutor,
he had no proof of it that he was right in his suspicions, while, if he
was, he had too manly a nature to go and report him.
So he determined to suffer in silence, and trust to some good fortune
to make all things even in the end.