Come alongside," directed the officer of the deck.
In his most seamanlike style the Briton ranged alongside.

Dave tried to press the fare upon the skipper, but he would have none of that.

So the three shook hands swiftly but heartily with him, then sprang across to the side gangway, where they paused long enough to lift their caps to this stranger and friend.

The Briton lifted his own cap, waving it heartily, ere he fell off and turned about.
"You didn't get aboard any too soon, gentlemen," remarked the officer of the deck, eyeing the three middies keenly as they came up over the side, doffing their uniform caps to the colors.

"Hustle for the formation." Midshipman Pennington was chuckling deeply over the supposed fact that he had at last succeeded in bringing Darrin in for as many demerits as Darrin had helped heap upon him.
"That'll break his heart as an avowed greaser," Pen told himself.