Dave Darrin at Vera Cruz | Page 9

of the conversation of others. "Why did Lieutenant Cantor seem to enjoy his privilege so much?"
After a covert glance, to make sure that he was not in danger of being overheard, Darrin replied, in an undertone:
"Lieutenant Cantor was the man of whom I told you last night."
"Not the-----"
"Yes," Dave nodded.
"But it seems incredible that an officer of our Navy could be guilty of any such conduct," Dalzell gasped, his eyes large with amazement. "Are you sure?"
"Didn't you notice the welt on Mr. Cantor's cheek?" Dave asked, dryly.
Danny Grin nodded, then fell silent over his plate.
After the meal Lieutenant Trent saw to it that both the new ensigns were introduced to such officers as they had not met already.
"We can't possibly remember all their names---scores of 'em!" gasped Dan, as the two young officers stood outside the mess.
"We'll learn every name and face before very long," Darrin answered. "But I mustn't stand talking," Dave went on, as he again hung his sword at his side. "I'm on duty, and can't stand another call-down."
"Are you going to tell what Cantor did last night?" Dan queried.
"No; and don't you tell, either!"
"Small fear of my babbling your business, David, little Giant!" assured Dalzell. "You are strong enough to go in and slay your own Goliath."
Drawing on his white gloves, Dave Darrin stepped alertly to the quarter deck, to find himself facing the frown of Lieutenant Cantor.

CHAPTER III
THE JUNIOR WORM TURNS
"Wonder what my man has in store for me?" flashed through Dave's mind, as he saluted his division commander.
But Cantor, after returning the salute, merely turned away to pace the deck.
Presently, however, the lieutenant stepped over to Darrin, when the pair had the quarterdeck to themselves.
"Are you going to tell me?" murmured the lieutenant, his burning gaze on the frank young face before him.
"Tell you what, sir?" Dave asked.
"That taxicab number?"
"No, sir!"
"Think!"
"When I have decided that a given course of conduct is the only course possible to a gentleman," Ensign Darrin replied, "I have no further occasion to give thought to that subject."
"Darrin, you might make me your friend!" urged his superior officer.
"That would be delightful, sir."
"Darrin, don't try to be ironical with me!"
Dave remained silent.
"If you don't care for me for your friend, Darrin," Cantor warned him, "it is possible, on the other hand, to make an enemy of me. As an enemy you would not find me wanting either in resource or opportunity."
"Have you any orders for me, sir?" asked Darrin, coolly. That was as near as he could come, courteously, to informing Cantor that he wished from him none but official communications.
"Pardon me, sir," said Cantor, and stepped away to salute Commander Bainbridge, who had just appeared on the quarter-deck. There was a low-toned conversation between the two officers. Then, as the pair exchanged salutes, and Bainbridge went on to the captain's quarters, Lieutenant Cantor came back to his selected victim.
"Darrin, you will go below and finish the watch, loading stores in the number four hold. I will pass the word for the petty officer who will have charge under you, and he will show you to the hold. If you wish you may put on dungarees, for it is rough work down there."
"My baggage has not come aboard, sir," Dave replied. "This is the only uniform I have."
In his perturbed state of mind, it did not occur to the young ensign that he could draw dungarees---the brown overall suit that is worn by officers and crew alike when doing rough work about the ship, from the stores, nor did Cantor appear to notice his reply.
The messenger came, and brought Riley, the coxswain of one of the gigs.
"Coxswain, Ensign Darrin will take charge of the shipping of the stores in number four hold," Cantor announced. "Show him the way to the hold and receive his instructions."
Dave was speedily engaged between decks, in charge of tire work of some twenty men of the crew. At the hatch above, a boatswain's mate had charge of the lowering of the stores.
"It would be a pity to spoil your uniform, sir," declared Coxswain Riley. "If you'll allow me, sir, I'll spare you all of the dirtiest work."
"To shirk my duty would be a bad beginning of my service on this ship," smiled Darrin. "Thank you, Coxswain, but I'll take my share of the rough work."
The hold was close and stifling. Although a cool breeze was blowing on deck, there was little air in number two hold. In ten minutes Darrin found himself bathed in perspiration. Dust from barrels and packing cases hung heavy in that confined space. The grime settled on his perspiring face and stuck there.
"Look out, sir, or you'll get covered with pitch from some of these barrels," Riley warned Dave, respectfully.
"One uniform spoiled is nothing," Dave answered with a smile. "Do not be