Evening Star Newspaper, December 29, 1929, Page 89

date and he hit upon & plan as simple as it was ingenious. Presently the fire bell clanged throughout the hall. The officer in charge rushed from his office to discover the cause of the alarm. A figure climbed nimbly through the office win- dow, recovered certain “commandeered goods” and silently was gone, “It is recorded that the O. C. blew off con- siderable steam about the false alarm. The class “stood up” as usual until somebody (Mc- Giffin’s roommate, I suppose) confessed to ‘accidentally’ setting it off. “But not a word was said of the forbidden spoils, Perhaps the O. C. in his annoyance over the false alarm, had failed to note its absence. Or forgot about it. However that may be, at least two youngsters were in far too good spirits to bother their heads over such trifies as the ways of an O. C.” Perhaps the most famous story recounted with ever-increasing relish by this grcup of the ’80s is that which involves the late King Ed- ward, then H. R. H. the Prince of Wales. “It was during the cruise of the class of '83 on the Navy’s pride, the U. S. S. Trenton,” re- calls a member of that class. “In those days, you know, we teok a two-year cruise around the world after our graduation, then returned for re-examination and commissions. “Well, there was an old British salt on our ship—he must have been born on the sea, that one—whose favorite tale was about ‘Me an’ th’ Prince of Wales.’ “‘Me an’ the Prince of Wales wuz once ship- mates, we wuz,’ ‘P. G.” as he was called, would recount whenever a listening ear stood by. *'N’ I remember, e sez t’ me, when ’e left our ship, stickin’ out 'is ’'and, sez ’e, “Put 'er there, P. G., old man,” sez ‘e. “I'll not forget me old ship- mates,” sez ‘e; “ N’ any time I'm in port I want you to come right aboard an’ see me,” sez ’e.’ “So often did P. G. repeat this tale that he almost believed it himself. One day the Tren- ton put into a British port while the Prince of Wales was there with his ficet, in command, of course. Naval courtesy requires that when a foreign fleet comes into port the first in com- mand of the home fleet shall go aboard and pay his respects to the visiting eommander of the flagship of the incoming fleet. So H. R. H. came to call upon the Trenton's skipper, one Admiral Davis, who, it happens, had met the prince before and knew something of his sense of humor. “So, over their highballs, he recounted to his highness the tale of P. G. The heir to the Brit- i.h throne laughed heartily and then, with a twinkling eye, requested that his old seafaring ‘friend’ be presented to him. “Upon hearing of the prince’s impending visit, old P. G. had stirred his stumps and dis- appeared mysteriously below—as far below as he could go. But an orderly sought him out, mean- while spreading the news among the crew that the prince had called for him. Tremblingly, P. G. donned his best and pre- sented himself at the captain’s cabin, standing stiffily at salute. “H..R. H. had his back turned, gazing out the porthole. “‘Come in, P. G.,’ said the admiral cordially. “As P. G. advanced the royal visitor turned, and, taking a step forward, extended his hand with a hearty grin. “‘Well, well, P. G, old friend,” said he, ‘It’s been a long time since we've met, but I don’t forget my old shipmates,’ said he. ‘And any time I'm in port I want you to come aboard and visit me,’ said he. “Speechlessly, P. G. shook the royal hand, grinned, stammered and withdrew. Then, his chest expanding with every step, he stalked below, passing wondering comrades with ele- vated nose. “‘What did he say, P. G.?* “But P. G. gave no sign of hearing; with silent dignity he sought his hammock to be alone. “The crew followed and clamored to be told. “‘Wot did ’e say?’ finally roared P. A ‘Wot d’ y’ think 'e said? ’E says, “Put ‘er there, old friend,” sez ’e—“I don't forget that we wuz once shipmates, we wuz,” sez 'e, “’'N’ any time I'm in port I want you to come right aboard an’ see me, P. G.,” sez 'e. That's wot ‘e said.'” “I remember one good laugh we had when I was at the academy,” reminisces Admiral S. S, ‘Wood, who was one of that group of 50 years ago. “We paid for it, too, if my memory serves me right, but it was worth a stand-up.” He leaned back in his ccmfortable chair and twiddled his thumbs reflectively while a twinkle lighted keen blue eyes and the shadow of a boyish smile spread to the corners of his mouth beneath its dignified mustache. “I recall this occasion particularly,” he sighed, “for I had been boning hard all evening and needed sleep. But I was not destined to get much of it that night. Shortly after “Taps,” when I'd just dropped off to sleep, I was awakened by a rcar of laughter. It seemed to come from the hall outside my door, Of course, I wasn't curious at all, but, well, I thought I might just as well see what it was all about. One look was enough to set me off with the rest of them, in such a gale of laughter that even the ap- pearance of the officer in charge couldn’t quite sober us up. Oh, we stood up that night, all right. But the lieutenant, himself, couldn't re- sist a grin when he saw the once-innocent mar- ble form of a gracious lady holding a shallow dish poised in graceful palm, transported from her rightful lofty pedestal in the upper hall and transformed into a bacchanalian roustabout garbed in dressing gown and rakish ecap, with flaming ncse and head bent tipsily to sup from a flowing dish. (They'd filled it with something that at least looked like what it shouldn't be.) It was a positive work of art—for which the culprits paid a visit to Santee. “Usually, after such a prank, the guilty ones would confess within a reasonable length of time out of a sense of fair play,” continued the admiral. “But once, it looked as though no one had done the deed. For hours and hours it looked that way, and, meanwhile, the whole class suffered. Showing the various uniforms worn by midshi “It was one night in '78, when our class was plebing it on the top floor of the old barracks building. All hands had been awakened by a terrific din and clatter in the corridor. An earthquake at the very least, it scemed. Heads popped out of doors and yells of protest from sleepy ‘middies’ rent the air. The protests turned to howls of mirth as the cause was dis- covered. A large and much agitated feline was -scurrying hither and yon, trying to run away with her tail, to which was attached a healthy sized tin can, “Naturally, the officer in charge was not long in arriving on the scene. Nor did he waste any time in ordering the class downstairs to ‘stand up,” according to custom, until some one ’fessed up. “This particular lieutenant had recently played the part of the marine in ‘Pinafore, given at the academy that year. He wore habitually, a solemn expression, accentuated now as he looked us over, gazing sternly at each midshipman to detect the guilty eye. Then he spoke, and his tone matched that he’d employed in the play exactly: “‘Of course,” he hissed, ‘we know it was the cat; but » “He paused suggestively, without cracking- a smile. No one else dared to. Likewise, no one heeded his suggestive pause. So he added, dryly, ‘Sorry to cause you this slight incon- venience, gentlemen, but——" “Again the suggestive pause. “Still nobody spoke up. Minutes ticked off into hours while we stood and stood and stood, thinking dark thoughts about the one who wouldn't speak and end our torture. Many a languishing glance was cast upward where nice comfy beds were growing cold. All but one! As it was discovered later, the culprit didn't speak because he wasn't there at all. He was way upstairs, fast asleep in bed, happily ob- livious to the plight of his luckless classmates below.” There may be an admiral not so far away to- day who could remember that nice, comfy night in bed. “There were two occasions I recall quite well,” chuckled the genial member of '82, leaning back to spin another yarn, “when some sadder and wiser midshipmen found themselves the targets of a superior officer's wit—or wisdom. One comes to mind with painful clarity, for I was the lad who learned how little I really knew. I was fairly well up in the class ranks and pretty cocky, I suppose, over my ‘expert sea- manship.’” Anyway, the captain of the Dale thought I was—until he changed my mind. “ ‘Mr. W——, take the deck,’ he snapped sud- denly, one day, glaring at me severely. ‘And tack ship.’ “I knew the orders all right, so snapped into it with a will. But in my anxiety to show my efliciency failed to notice that he'd carefully put the ship ‘running free,’ instead of ‘close hauled,’ from which position I should have maneuvered her before ‘tacking.’ “Naturally, I didn’t get all the way around, to my secret chagrin. The captain was watch- ing me like a hawk all the time. It seemed to me he positively gloated when he said: “‘Didn’t get her around, did you, eh?’ IND. iy “‘Well, I'm glad. If you had, you'd have thought you knew all about it—and you don't.’” “Another time the surgeon at the academy gave six hapless youngsters a dose of their own medicine—literally. These bright lights, it seems, had personal business of a pressing na- ture (or so they thought) to attend to that called urgently to their spirits. How to dis- pense with the necessity of attending classes for the nonce, tried their wits until an idea dawned. They acted upon it without more ado, and when inspection was called six young men were disccvered to be suffering from thickly coated tongues. “‘Um-m-m,” murmured the medical man, shaking his head over the first ‘case’ And ‘Ah’ aver the second, and ‘Oh” over the third. “‘By gad, gentlemen, this seems to be an epi- demic. Step into my office at once, please.’ “Disguising secret grins, the six filed in. Be- hind closed doors the surgeon, adjusting his spectacles and his most professional air, began: ‘This may be serious, gentlemen. We'll see, we’ll see’ He extracted a musty volume from his shelf, murmured over some elongated Latin terms, Greek to the ‘patients’ who were rap- idly growing anxious. ‘M-m-m, let's see; here it is. I think—it's quite common in the tropics, but don't know as I ever saw a case here be- fore. M-m-m. Apt to spread rapidly if not isolated. Isclation, gentlemen, that'll check this thing. Ycur pulse? Yes (feeling the first one’s wrist) and nerves all upset. Yes, these are the symptoms, all right.’ “He pushed a button, scribbled something on a bit of paper and handed it to an orderly with orders to fill it at once—six glasses. “When the orderly returned—'Now, gentle- men (handing each a wine glass full of raw castor oil), down she goes—one, two, three, all together. That's fine, You'll be all right in— say, 48 hours, gentlemen; meanwhile, you'll be genuinely on the sick list. These tooth paste tongues are dangerous. Good day, gentlemen; good day.”” Admiral Charles Dyscn ('83), who makes his home in Washington also now, relates a tale of overzealousness which proved a boomerang to one of his classmates. “Many times in our zeal to prove ourselves good seamen,” he recalls, “we would succeed only in earning a few extra demerits or other penalties, One of my classmates during a Summer cruise on the Constellation suffered an attack of overzealousness that we’'ve often laughed over since. We had a captain who was a light sleeper—much too light. He had a way of waking up almost before dawn and ordering ‘surprise quarters and fire,’ which meant that we had to man our quarters on the ship and fire the guns with all possible speed. This classmate of mine—'Bob’ we’ll eall him—was captain of the gun crew. He decided that his crew was going to prove they were the fastest crew in the Navy. So, when it seemed about time for the captain to call another early morning ‘surprise quarters and fire” he told his men to sleep with one eye open and their clothes at hand for the next few days and when the skipper broke forth again with his favorite order to make a dash for it and get their gun fired first or die in the attempt. They agreed, and one gold, gray dawn the order came. Bob's crew did its duty. No. 2 gun roared out min- utes before the rest, The captain was im- mensely pleased; beamed upon the proud Bob and praised his work openly. “Then came the blow. At inspection he looked hard at Bob's gun. He looked again— severely. Then, ‘Where's your rammer, Mr. Blank?' “Bob stared. He gazed wildly about him. “ ‘It doesn't seem to be here, sir.’ “‘No, it doesn’t sir. You're per-fectly right, sir; because you fired the damned thing, sir. You can pay for it out of your allowance, sir.’ * Admiral Charles F. Hughes, present chief of operations of the Navy, and Admiral 8. S. Rob- ison, superintendent of the academy at An- napolis, were members of a onoce-famous Navy base ball team which played a memorable series in the "80s with a Chinese team, no doubt the only Oriental nine then in existence. It seems that about 40 young Chinese stu- dents had been sent to America through the generosity of China’s grand old man, Li Hung Chang, and here they learned the Western art of playing ball. Following their graduation from Harvard, Yale and other colleges, they returned to China and some 20 of them found themselves in Shanghai with their brand-new degrees and their knowledge of the great American game (including all of the slang that goes with i, by the way, which rolled drolly from their Eastern tongues). So they organised a base ball team, tucked their long, black queues under pmen in 1880. T hird from left: Admiral Spencer S. Wood, retired, now secres tary-treasurer of the Navy Relief Society. white uniform caps and sallied forth to chale le! all comers. n;hee first to come were some members of an American man o' war's crew on & Summer cruise. Among them were Past Midshipmen Robison and Hughes, who had made reputations for themselves during academy days by their prowess on the diamond. They quickly ore ganized a team from among their ship and accepted the challenge of the Oriental nine. Dr. Stephen W. Douglas, recently retired from active service in the Navy, and now living in Washington, was among those who earned posie tions on the Navy nine, which came off highly victcrious in the ensuing contests. The Chi« nese moundsmen proved speedy runners and did splendid work in the field. But their op« portunities for showing their speed in rounde ing the bases were few and far between because of their extreme difficulty in connecting withi the balls sent twisting over the plate by Pitchen Hughes. The latter is described by one of his ex-teammates as the “demon pitcher of the Navy,” a six-foot blond-haired young gian§ with a mighty heave that kept:his diminutive opponents fanning the air desperately most of the time. Admiral Robison held down first base and Dr. Douglas played second. When Pitcher Hughes had “gotten one batse man’s goat” particularly one day with an ese pecially tantalizing deliberateness in his moves ments (as is the way with pitchers), his Chie nese friend called out, twisting his mouth around to one side in the best base ball style§ “Aw, t'row d’ ball, will yu? Wot's 4’ mattef wid yu?” Asked afterward where he'd acquired hi§ “perfect base ball English,” he grinned cheerd fully and replied, “I know that’s not good Enge lish, &’ right, but it’s base ball American—wd learn to play the game, and talk him, too.™ " g One cannot recall the days of the “Old N.VN without calling to mind the story that was then on every Navy tongue because it concerned the hero of the hour—Admiral Robbey D. Evans, “Fighting Bob Evans,” he was called, comman« dant of the Atlantic fleet and veteran of stormy battles in the '90s. It had nothing whatever to do with his brilliant career except inasmuchi as it revealed his quick flashes of humor and fighting spirit, Upon a Sunday morning, so the story goes; Admiral Evans donned his civilian clothes and went ashore. His ship was in the New York harbor at the time. He was bent upon attend«< ing church services. Going to a prominen@® church, he slipped unobtrusively into an empty pew. Presently he discovered he had a pews mate. A young gentleman, dressed in the mos# formal morning attire (foppish to the rugged admiral’s eye) was glancing at him askance, Fighting Bob was unperturbed. He sat see renely on. The gentleman of sartorial elegance became restive. He glared again at this “per= son” in his pew. Finally, taking out a gold card case, he extracted a slender bit of carde board and wrote thereon: “I pay $500 a year for the exclusive use of this pew.” Underscoring the word exclusive, he' passed the hint across. America’s most distinguished admiral tool the card and gazed at it intently. ‘Then, ex« tracting one of his own cards, he scribbled a line beneath his name and with the u'.q“' gravity exchanged the “courtesy.” The pene ciled line read: “You pay too damned much.” Season’s Wheat Supply. IMIUCH has been said about the congestion at grain elevators, because of the oversupply of wheat. Figurse issued by the Department of Agriculture show why this is so. At the be- ginning of the season there were 116,000,000 bushels of wheat held in storage, as compared with 53,000,000 bushels st year, and an aver- age of 29,000,000 bushels in the five previous years,