An Annapolis First Classman Part 12

"It all counts, Pete; you know part of the grand multiple each company makes is made up of its record at target practice with six-pounder guns, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Well, I received a letter from Stanton last week; he says the sights of this gun are very poor. Now in our gunnery sections we were all encouraged to make improvements. You see gunnery in the navy is now a matter of terrific compet.i.tion; it is s.h.i.+p against s.h.i.+p and gun against gun. At each target practice the s.h.i.+p that does the best carries the gunnery trophy for a year, and big money prizes are won by the best gun crews. And officers in command of different guns are encouraged to make improvements. Why, just before the Spanish war the twelve-inch guns of the 'Texas' could only shoot once in five minutes, and then the shots didn't hit often. On her last target practice those same guns fired once a minute and hit the target almost every time. And the improvements were all made by officers aboard the s.h.i.+p."

"Well, Bob, here is your six-pounder gun; just take a look at it. I don't imagine you will be allowed to do much tinkering with it. You don't know a great deal about the gun--not nearly so much as the men who designed and built it--and here you are talking about improving it. You would probably injure rather than improve it."

"I know how to work it, anyway, and I have fired a six-pounder a number of times," replied Robert, rapidly throwing down a couple of clamps, and turning the gun on its pivot.

"I have no notion of touching the mechanism of the gun; but Stanton says the gun sights are poor; that anybody could put better sights on the gun."

Robert now put himself at the rear of the gun, a.s.suming the prescribed position of the man who fired it, holding it securely by the shoulder and hand of his right arm, his left hand being at the trigger. He ran his eye over the gun sights, and moved the gun up and down, and from side to side.

"Pete," he remarked, "look at this rear sight; it's an open sight--just a mere notch, a groove. And the forward sight is just a sharp point. If I screw my eye up or down, or from side to side, I might think there were many different places the gun would shoot to. When the gun is fired in this exact position the shot is going in only one direction, but I bet you if ten different fellows should aim along these sights as the gun is now and say where the shot was going to hit you would find there were ten different opinions."

"Of course there would be," replied Peters in a superior tone; "there always are with open sights; professional marksmen always use peep-sights."

"Pete, you're a treasure," cried Robert in enthusiastic approval; "we'll fit peep-sights to this gun, but we'll keep it a dead secret, and when we come to fire our string of shots we'll use our own peep-sights."

"How are you going to fit peep-sights to this gun and not have everybody else know about it?" asked Peters dubiously. "And we only practice with this gun; we will actually fire one of the 'Nevada's' six-pounders,--and probably the sight you fitted to this gun wouldn't fit the 'Nevada's.'"

"Let's go aboard the 'Nevada'; she's alongside the 'Santee' wharf, and we'll talk to the captain. I know him, and we'll ask him to let us fit up the six-pounder we're going to use. There's a gunner's mate named Lenn aboard that s.h.i.+p who is a great friend of mine; he's awfully handy with tools, and he'll help me."

"But, Bob, a captain isn't going to let a mids.h.i.+pman monkey with the guns of his s.h.i.+p."

"The 'Nevada' is in reserve with a crew of only thirty-five men on board; she's here for the instruction of mids.h.i.+pmen, and besides, we're not going to make any permanent change; we're going to invent a new six-pounder gun sight; we'll just take off the old sights and put in our own peep-sights; the captain can put the other ones back if he wants to."

"You talk as if you had already invented your peep-sights and all you had to do was to put them on. Now let me tell you, Bob, it isn't so all-fired easy. This gun isn't fitted for peep-sights. Another thing, the rear sight is attached here to a graduated bar; it moves up and down according to the distance of the target you are firing at, and it also moves from side to side, to allow for the speed of the s.h.i.+p. Now you're going to have a good deal of trouble to arrange an entire new kind of sights for this gun."

"Pete, those are problems that I'm sure can be solved. I don't pretend to say I know just how we can make the change, but I'm going to study the question, and I'm going to get expert help. Now let's go over to the 'Nevada' and talk with Captain Brice; we've got to get his consent first; and then I'll get that smart gunner's mate, Lenn, to help me; he's a very inventive chap. Come along."

Before long the two mids.h.i.+pmen were aboard the monitor "Nevada" and were talking with Captain Brice. At first the latter was utterly opposed to any "monkeying," as he expressed it, with one of his guns. Finally he became interested in Robert's earnestness, and relented to the extent of the following ultimatum:

"Now, Mr. Drake, I'll allow you to remove the present sights of one of my six-pounders; the sights are kept out of the gun, anyway, for that matter; and in their places you may put in new sights. But you are not to alter the gun in any way; you must fix it so that any sights you put in can be immediately replaced by the regular sights. I'll send for the man you want, Lenn, and tell him to give you a hand."

Chief Gunner's Mate Lenn soon appeared, and he and the two mids.h.i.+pmen repaired to the forward starboard six-pounder on the superstructure deck, where Robert explained what he wanted. Lenn grasped the idea with avidity.

"Why, Mr. Drake," he said, "we can fix up what you want with no trouble at all. A sight is a simple thing--the principle is that the centre line of the gun's bore must be exactly parallel to the line of sight at point-blank range with no speed allowance. Now you want a peep-sight.

We'll get a hollow cylinder, say an inch in diameter, and an inch or two long; we'll plug the end and drill a fine hole in the end of your plug.

There's the peep. And the forward sight will be a ring with cross wires in it. Now your line from the peep-hole to the cross wires must be parallel to the axis of the gun. And while I think of it the rear and front sights should be as far apart as possible; I'll tell you what we'll do; we'll carry the sight at the end of a long piece of bra.s.s pipe; I've just the stuff in my storeroom. I'll fit a Y piece to where the present front sight is, pivot it there and hang the forward part of the pipe in its gimbals. I'll just run a quarter-inch pin through the pipe; and I'll drop the rear end of the bra.s.s pipe on this rear sight--I'll have to make a slight alteration in this rear sight----"

"You can't change a thing, Lenn, you mustn't," interrupted Robert.

"Captain Brice will not allow any changes of the gun----"

"Oh, I've an old condemned rear sight below; I'll use that," smiled Lenn. "Now we'll fasten our new front cross wire and rear peep-sights to the ends of our bra.s.s pipe--why, anybody can see at a glance it will be a far better arrangement than the present poor system."

When Robert and Peters left Lenn said: "Come aboard the 'Nevada' in two days from now and you'll find your new sights on this gun ready for business."

On the following Sat.u.r.day, after supper, Robert and Stonewell were enjoying a pleasant call at the Blunt household. Captain Blunt was telling Stonewell of the last target practice his s.h.i.+p had gone through.

"Why, sir," he said, "if my six-pounders had not done so poorly I would surely have won the trophy; my six-inch guns averaged seven hits a minute, each of the best guns making ten hits. If we had had decent sights for our six-pounders the 'New Orleans' would have made the best record of any s.h.i.+p of her cla.s.s in the navy."

Robert was eagerly listening, and was much interested, but Helen Blunt wasn't.

"Father," she interrupted, "you talk of nothing but guns, guns, guns and hits per minute. Now that isn't nearly so interesting to mids.h.i.+pmen as ice-cream and cake. Robert, come along to the pantry with me and help me get some."

That young man was on the point of asking Captain Blunt a question about six-pounder gun sights, but Helen was already on her way toward the hall; so he thought his question could wait, and he started to join Helen. She had gone to the rear of the house, to the pantry next the kitchen. The pa.s.sageway was dark, but Robert knew the way, and he hurried after Helen, and soon ran right into her.

"You are a regular blunderer, aren't you, Robert?" she laughed. "I am trying to turn on the light but can't find the key. What a bother it is that in Annapolis all the servants go home at night--and there goes the doorbell. I'll have to go see who it is. Now try to find the switch; it's somewhere near on this wall. Just feel about and you'll find it. I hope you're not afraid to be left in the dark," was her parting shot, "but the kitchen door is locked, so that no burglars can get in." And Helen ran away.

Robert groped about, but could not find the switch to the electric light, and while he was fumbling his ear caught the noise of a click in the kitchen, as if a door had been unlocked. A moment later he heard a door opened, and with it he felt the draft blow on him.

"Some one has let himself into the kitchen," thought Robert. He kept quite still, wondering who it might be. Then he heard footsteps on the kitchen floor; they seemed quite close to him and he felt confident there was an intruder there. He peered through the open door of the pantry into the kitchen, but in the dark could see nothing; suddenly an electric light in the kitchen was turned on, and Robert, himself unseen, looked with fascination on the person he saw.

There standing by a table was a man with a brown slouch hat drawn down over his eyes, a man with a heavy moustache and dark pointed beard; he was dressed in a dark sack coat, b.u.t.toned closely across his chest and wore trousers of a dark material.

Robert felt his breath come quickly.

"What can this man be doing here?" he wondered. "I know him; he's the scoundrel who called for three groans for the superintendent and commandant."

Robert had a confused idea that the stranger might be a thief and he was wondering what he had best do, when suddenly a feeling of dismay and horror swept over him. The stranger threw off his hat, and with a quick movement of each hand unhooked from around his ears the support of what was evidently a false beard. And the merry face of Harry Blunt was revealed.

It is difficult to a.n.a.lyze Robert's feelings, but chief among them was an utter detestation for Harry. That a mids.h.i.+pman, himself the son of a splendid officer, should be the miscreant who had so wantonly, so publicly, insulted the highest officers at the Naval Academy, filled Robert with disgust.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _THE STRANGER THREW OFF HIS HAT_]

For a mids.h.i.+pman to take unauthorized leave was a common offense, so also was it for a mids.h.i.+pman to have civilian clothing in his possession. Such offenses were committed at great personal risk and when detected brought down upon the offender's head severe punishment, and if repeated it meant dismissal. But reprehensible from a military view-point as it was, such an offense was not dishonorable.

Since the event at the Colonial Theatre none at Annapolis had ever had the slightest notion that the perpetrator of the insult of that night could be a mids.h.i.+pman; such an idea never was suggested, never even entered any person's mind. And so to Robert, his recognition of Harry Blunt as the culprit was as astounding as it was painful. He loathed Harry as an utterly unfit, dishonorable person, who had done shameful wrong to the Naval Academy. And immediately there arose in Robert's mind the knowledge that it was his duty to report Harry to the commandant, to report the son of his benefactor.

In agonized perplexity Robert turned and quietly walked through the dining-room to the hall.

"Did you find the cakes and things in the pantry, Robert?" cried Helen seeing him, "or did you get tired waiting for me? Mr. Farnum called, and he comes so seldom I felt I couldn't run away from him. Why, Robert, what's the matter? You have such a strange look on your face. What is it?"

"I--I couldn't find the light, Helen, I----"

"Oh, come back and try it again. But what is the matter, Robert? I'm sure something's the matter."

"I'm not feeling well, Helen. I--I--have to go--I can't stay,--please say good-night to your father and mother--I really must go," and with utter misery showing in every feature, Robert grabbed his hat and bolted out of the house.

CHAPTER XIII

HARRY BLUNT IS REBUFFED

Helen Blunt was grieved and hurt at Robert's strange action. It was incomprehensible to her. The others expressed much surprise at his sudden leaving. After a few minutes Helen got the refreshments, but she was much subdued for the rest of the evening, and it was only too evident that the pleasure of the day had gone for her.