The Submarine Boys and the Middies Or, the Prize Detail at Annapolis — Inside the Classic

Dialogue as Character Marker

Durham differentiates his three submarine boys primarily through what they say and how they say it. Jack Benson speaks in complete, courteous sentences, often addressing superiors with "sir" and using phrases like "if you'll be good enough." His language is deliberate and respectful, reflecting his role as captain. Hal Hastings is defined by his silence—"had not spoken in five minutes"—a trait the narrator explicitly notes, making his rare utterances carry weight. Eph Somers, in contrast, uses colloquial contractions and interjections: "Reckon, when I come to Annapolis, I'll enter the class above the plebe." His speech is more impulsive and less polished, often prompting mischief from Jack. When faced with the cadet's invented word "camelroorelephant," Eph claps both hands to his jaw and begs, "Won't you please hand that to us in pieces?"—a physical and verbal reaction that underscores his comic, blunt nature.

Understatement and the Unspoken

Durham frequently conveys tension through what characters do not say. When Jacob Farnum's eyes twinkle with hidden knowledge, Jack Benson "saw that twinkle, but he did not ask questions." The narrator explains that "it was not for his young captain to ask for information that was not volunteered," a line that reveals the strict code of deference governing their relationship. Later, when the cadets surround the submarine boys, Jack whispers, "We're in for something real and startling, I reckon. Fellows, brace up and take your medicine, whatever it is, like men!" The understatement—"something real and startling"—contrasts with the imminent hazing, and the imperative "like men" reinforces the stoic ideal. Durham lets the threat remain vague, relying on the reader's inference to heighten suspense.

Setting as Contrast: Dunhaven vs. Annapolis

Durham uses brief but precise setting details to mark the shift from the submarine boys' familiar world to the unfamiliar naval academy. At Dunhaven, the air "had been frosty"; at Annapolis, "the October night was balmy, wholly pleasant." This sensory contrast signals a change in atmosphere and mood. The grounds are "nearly deserted" at that hour, with only a few officers and ladies out, while the cadets are "in their quarters in barracks, hard at study, or supposed to be." The parenthetical "or supposed to be" introduces a hint of skepticism about cadet discipline, foreshadowing the hazing to come. Durham does not overdescribe; he selects a few telling details—frost versus balm, deserted walks versus barracks—to orient the reader and imply a world of order that is about to be disrupted.

The Cadets' Language: Jargon and Trickery

The cadets at Annapolis speak a language of their own, one that Durham uses to create a barrier between the submarine boys and their new environment. The invented word "camelroorelephant" is a deliberate nonsense term, a "cadet joke" that the cadet offers as a pretext to lead the boys into a trap. His speech is polite but evasive: "Don't try to pronounce it, gentlemen, until you've seen the camelroorelephant." The request to close eyes "on honor" exploits the submarine boys' own code of honor, and Jack enforces it—"You're on honor not to"—even as Eph objects. Durham shows how the cadets manipulate language and etiquette to gain advantage. The cadet's final line, "This way, please, gentlemen," is courteous in form but deceptive in intent, highlighting a contrast between surface politeness and underlying mischief.

Narrative Economy in Action Sequences

Durham's action scenes rely on short, declarative sentences and physical details rather than elaborate description. When the cadets close in, the narration shifts to rapid, clipped statements: "They were surrounded. The cadets closed quickly in upon them." The word "quickly" is the only adverb; the focus is on the physical fact of encirclement. Eph's exclamation—"oh, great shades of Santiago!"—is a period-appropriate interjection that conveys surprise without slowing the pace. Jack's response is equally terse: "We're in for it!" The author trusts the reader to infer the threat from the cadets' "very attitude and poise" rather than spelling it out. This economy keeps the narrative brisk and aligns with the boys' own no-nonsense demeanor.

Durham's authorial choices in The Submarine Boys and the Middies reward attention to small verbal and behavioral cues. The dialogue not only advances plot but defines character through restraint, impulsiveness, or silence. The setting shifts are economical but evocative, and the cadets' use of language as a tool of deception adds a layer of social complexity. Readers may find it useful to note how often Durham tells us about a character through what they do not say, and how the boys' internalized codes of conduct shape every interaction.

There’s a particular quiet in The Submarine Boys and the Middies, the way Durham lets the gray water do the talking when words won’t. It reminds me of another old friend, the unhurried strangeness of Peru in Harry Escombe: A Tale of Adventure in Peru — A Closer Reading, where the landscape itself feels like a held breath. I miss that sort of patience in stories now.