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 concerned about me."
Officer and men were suffering alike in that close atmosphere.
By the time the watch was ended Dave Darrin was truly a pitchy,
soiled, perspiration-soaked sight.
Danny Grin, who reported to relieve his chum, looked rough and
ready enough in a suit of dungarees that he had drawn.
"I should have had brains enough to remember that I, too, could
have drawn dungarees," Dave grunted, as he and his chum exchanged
salutes. Then the relieved young officer hastened above to report
the completion of his duty to his division commander, who would
be furious if kept waiting.
Dave glanced toward Cantor's quarters, then realized that the
lieutenant must still be on the quarter deck.
In his haste to be punctual, Darrin forgot his sword and white
gloves, which he had left in his own cabin on the way to duty
between decks. Without these appurtenances of duty on the quarter-deck,
Darrin made haste aft, found his division commander, saluted and
reported his relief.
"Mr. Darrin," boomed Cantor, in a tone of high displeasure, "don't
you know that an officer reporting to the quarter-deck when in
any but dungaree clothes, should wear his gloves and sword. Go
and get them, sir---and don't keep me waiting beyond my watch
time when I have shore leave!"
Again red-faced and humiliated, Ensign Darrin saluted, wheeled,
made haste to his quarters, then returned wearing sword and gloves.
This time he saluted and made his report in proper form.
"Mr. Darrin," said his division officer, scathingly, "this is
the second time to-day that I have had to teach you the things
you should have learned in your first week at Annapolis. You
are making a bad beginning, sir."
Dave saluted, but this time did not answer in words.
"You may go, Mr. Darrin, and hereafter I trust to find in you
a more attentive and clear-headed officer."
Lieutenant Cantor did not hold his tone low. It is the privilege
of an officer to rebuke an enlisted man publicly, and as severely
as the offense warrants, and it is the further privilege of an
officer to make his rebuke to a subordinate commissioned officer
as sharp and stinging as he chooses.
Saluting, without a word, Darrin wheeled and walked to his quarters.
"Cantor will certainly have abundant opportunity to make things
warm for me," reflected Darrin, as he sat down before the desk
in his cabin. "I wonder what I am to do, in order to keep my
self-respect and keep my hands off the fellow. It would probably
end my career in the Navy if I struck him on this ship."
For some minutes Darrin sat in a rather dejected frame of mind,
reviewing his first acquaintance with this official cur, and the
things that had happened on shipboard since.
"I suppose I could ask for a different detail," Dave mused, forlornly.
"Undoubtedly, though, I wouldn't get the detail, unless I gave
what were considered sufficiently good reasons, and I can't tell
tales on my division commander, cur though I know him to be."
In the passage outside, sounded passing footsteps and a laugh.
Dave felt his face flush, for he recognized the voice of Lieutenant
Cantor.
"Danny Grin is a good chum," reflected Darrin, "but in this affair
he can't advise me any better than I can advise myself. I wish
I could talk freely with some older officer, who knows shipboard
life better. But if I were to go to any older officer with such
a tale as I have, it would-----"
"In, Mr. Darrin?" sounded a cheery voice, and Commander Bainbridge,
the executive officer, stood in the doorway, bringing young Darrin
to his feet in prompt salute.
"I was passing, Darrin, and so I called," announced the executive
officer. "Otherwise, I would have summoned you to my office.
Lieutenant Cantor has secured shore leave until eleven o'clock
to-night. As we are busy aboard, Mr. Cantor's division is due
for watch duty at eight bells this evening. As Mr. Cantor has
shore leave you will report as officer of the deck until relieved
by Lieutenant Cantor on his return to the ship. At any time between
now and four bells report at my office and sign for these instructions."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Returning the ensign's salute, the executive officer next regarded
Darrin's untidy appearance with some displeasure.
"Mr. Darrin," Commander Bainbridge continued, "I note that you
must have been on hard duty. No officer, after being relieved,
is entitled to retain an untidy appearance longer than is necessary.
You should have bathed, sir, and attired yourself becomingly.
Neatness is the first requisite in the service."
"I shall be glad to do that sir," Dave answered, respectfully,
"as soon as my baggage comes aboard. At present this is the only
uniform I have."
"That alters the case, Mr. Darrin," replied the executive officer,
kindly. "In case, however, your baggage does not arrive between
now and dinner-time, you will not be warranted in going to the
ward-room, unless you can borrow a uniform that fits you as well
as one of your own."
"I shall be very careful on that point, sir," Dave answered,
respectfully, with another salute, returning which Commander
Bainbridge departed.
Ten minutes later Darrin's baggage was delivered. In their proper
places the young ensign hung his various uniforms, placed his
shoes according to regulation, and stowed his linen and underclothing
in the wardrobe drawers.
After this a most welcome bath followed. Dave then dressed with care
in a fresh blue uniform, stepped to the executive officer's office
and signed for his evening orders.
There was time for fifteen minutes in the open air, after which
Dave returned to his quarters to dress for dinner. This done,
he stepped outside, knowing that the summons to the wardroom would
soon come.
At first Dave was the only officer at that point. Commander Bainbridge
soon joined him.
A desperate thought entering his mind, Dave addressed the commander as
soon as his salute had been returned.
"Sir, may I ask you a question connected with my own personal
affairs?" he asked.
"Certainly," replied the executive officer.
"I was wondering, sir, if it would be wise for me to seek counsel
from an older officer if at any time I found myself threatened
with trouble, or, at least, with unpleasantness."
"It would be a very wise course on your part, Darrin," replied
Commander Bainbridge, though he regarded the ensign's face with
keen scrutiny. "An older officer should always esteem it a pleasure,
as well as a duty, to advise a younger officer. I take an interest
in all the officers of this ship. If there is anything in which
I can advise you, you may command me."
"Thank you, sir. But, if you will permit me to frame an instance,
if the advice that I asked of you might tend to prejudice you
against one of your subordinate officers, would it be wiser for
me to seek counsel of some officer not higher in rank than the
officer whom I have just supposed?"
"That is to say, Mr. Darrin, that the advice you might otherwise
wish to ask of me might be taken in the light of a complaint against
an officer who is one of my subordinates, and against whom you
would not wish to carry tales? In that case, you would, by all
means, show good judgment consulting a younger officer. But remember,
Darrin, that not all men are equally wise. Be very careful whom
you select at any time as adviser. And remember that, for any
advice that you may properly ask of me, you may come to me without
hesitation."
"Thank you, sir. I trust you realize how deeply grateful I am to
you," Dave protested earnestly.
As other officers came up, Commander Bainbridge cut the discussion
short by turning to greet the arrivals.
Dinner in the ward-room was the formal meal of the day. The table,
covered with snowy damask, glittered with crystal and silver.
Silent, soft-moving little Filipinos, in their white mess suits,
glided about, serving noiselessly.
At the head of the table sat Commander Bainbridge, the executive
officer, for the captain of a battleship dines in solitary state
in his own apartments. On either side of the executive officer
sat the other officers, in two long rows, according to their rank.
On either side of the Commander were seated the officers with
rank of lieutenant commander. Next to them were the lieutenants,
senior grade. After them came the lieutenants, junior grade.
At the foot of the table was a group of ensigns, the lowest in
rank of commissioned officers of the Navy.
Course followed course, and good humor prevailed at the officers'
table. Now and then a good joke or a witty sally called forth
hearty laughter. Here and there officers, dismissing laughter for
the time being, talked of graver matters.
Danny Grin soon found time to murmur the question:
"How did you get along with your tyrant this afternoon?"
"No better," Dave answered, moodily.
"Did he rake you over the coals again?"
"Yes." Then Darrin detailed the circumstances.
"I am afraid he has it in for you, all right," muttered Danny Grin,
scowling.
"He'll report me as often as he can, I don't doubt," Dave replied.
"If he can bring me up before a general court-martial, all the
better."
"I'm sorry you're not in Trent's division," Dan sighed. "He's
a gentleman---a regular, sea-going officer."
"Sea-going" is the highest praise that can be given in Navy circles.
"If I were in Trent's division, probably you'd have fallen under
Cantor," Darrin suggested.
"That would have been all right," nodded Dalzell, cheerily. "Cantor
has no direct cause to hate me, as he has in your case. Besides,
I'd do a good many things to a mean superior that you wouldn't.
If I had to stand watch with Cantor, and he tried any queer treatment
of me, I'd find a way to make his life miserable. I believe I've
shown some skill in that line in the past."
"You surely have," Darrin nodded. "But I don't like to spring
traps for my superior officers to fall into."
"Not even in self-defence?" challenged Dalzell.
"Not even to save myself," Darrin declared. At eight bells, in
Lieutenant Cantor's absence, Darrin took the watch trick alone
as officer of the deck until six bells, or eleven o'clock that
night.
There was not much to do. Now and then a shore leave man, sailor
or marine, reported coming on board. Darrin made a note of the
man's return and entered the time. Twice, a messenger brought
some small order from the executive officer. Yet it was a dull
watch, with the ship docked and nothing of importance happening.
"Cantor will soon be back," thought Dave, at last, slipping out
his watch and glancing at it under the light that came from the
cabin. His timepiece showed the time to be five minutes to eleven.
But a quarter of an hour passed, and no Lieutenant Cantor appeared.
More time slipped by without the lieutenant's return.
"That doesn't sound much like the punctuality that is required
of a naval officer," Dave told himself, in some disquiet.
Then finally a step was heard on the gangplank. Lieutenant Cantor
came briskly up over the side, halting on the deck and saluting
toward the stern, where the colors flew until sundown.
"Mr. Darrin, I've come on board," reported the lieutenant, turning
in time to catch Dave's salute.
He stepped closer, to add:
"You will enter a note that I came on board at 10.58."
"The time is eleven-forty, sir," Dave reminded his superior, at
the same time displaying his watch.
"Note that I came on board at 10.58," insisted Cantor, frowning.
"Sentry!" called Dave, briskly.
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"Note the time on the chronometer inside," Darrin ordered.
"Aye, aye, sir." Then, returning the marine sentry answered:
"It's eleven-forty, sir."
Dave made the entry of the lieutenant's return.
"You infernal trouble-maker," hissed Cantor, as the sentry paced
on. "You dragged that sentry into it, just so you would have
supporting testimony of the time I came aboard! I'll pay you
back for that! Look out for trouble, Mr. Darrin!"