“Mr. Henley, upon your return put yourself on the report for taking an unseamanlike attitude after having been once corrected,” directed Dave, in a businesslike tone.

The hot blood leaped to Henley’s face and temples.  He opened his mouth, intent upon making a stinging retort.

But Dave was glancing at him so coolly, compellingly, that the older midshipman now realized that he had gone as far as was safe.

During the rest of the drill Mr. Henley performed his work well enough to escape further rebuke.

When the crew was dismissed, however, Henley wore a blacker look than ever as he stalked along to the office of the officer in charge.

Here Henley picked up one of the report blanks, filled it out as briefly as possible, an signed his name, next turning in the report.

Immediately after supper that night, and before the signal sent the midshipmen to their studies, Henley stepped up to Dave.

“Mister, I want a word in private with you.”

“Certainly, sir,” replied Dave.  He was no longer crew captain on duty, but a fourth class man answering a first class man.

Henley conducted Dave out of earshot of any one else before he turned to say, hissingly: 

“Mister, you used an upstart’s privilege of abusing your authority this afternoon.”

“I think not, sir,” replied Dave quietly.

“You put me on report for no other reason than that I had made you sing extracts from the ‘Bazoo,’” charged the first class man.

“That reason or thought never entered my head, sir.”

“I say it did!”

“Then I am very sorry to have to reply that you are entirely in error.”

“You tell me that I am making a false statement?” demanded Midshipman Henley, more angrily.

“If you choose to consider it in that light, sir.”

“Mister, you are touge, ratey, impudent and worthless!” declared Henley hotly.

“Then I infer, sir, that you do not wish to waste any more time upon me?”

“Oh, you will not get off as easily as that,” sneered Midshipman Henley.  “You are a good-sized fellow, and you have some fourth class reputation as a fighter.  We shall not be so badly or unevenly matched, mister, I shall send a friend to inform you that I have called you out.”

“Then, sir, your friend will save time by seeking Mr. Dalzell, of the fourth class, who will be informed that he is to represent me.”

“Very good, mister.”

“That is all you wish to say to me, sir?”

“You may go, mister.”

Dave Darrin walked away, his mind full of mighty serious thoughts.

In the first place, for a midshipman to call out another, for reporting him for breach of discipline, is about as serious an offense as a midshipman can ordinarily commit.  It insures, if detected, the instant dismissal of the challenger.  And the challenged midshipman, if he accepts, held to be equally guilty.  So are the seconds.