“Pardon me, sir, but from the little that I saw and heard, I cannot believe that your discovery of her address would be regarded by the young woman as a trifling matter.”

“Do you persist in refusing to tell me that taxicab number?” hissed Lieutenant Cantor.

“Sir, as a gentleman, I must,” Dave rejoined.  For a full half minute Lieutenant Cantor stared at his subordinate in speechless anger.  Then, when he could command his voice somewhat, he resumed: 

“Oh, very good, you—–­you young—–­puppy!”

Another brief interval of silence, and the lieutenant continued, in a crisp, official tone: 

“Mr. Darrin, go to the division bulletin board and get an accurate copy of the roster of the division.  Also make a copy of our station bills.  You will then report to me on the quarter deck just before eight bells, noon.”

“Aye, aye, sir!  Any further orders?”

“None!”

Cantor stood there, an appealing look in his eyes, but Dave, saluting, turned on his heel and went out.

“So that is the fellow who is to teach me the duties and the ideals of the service,” Dave Darrin reflected, disgustedly, as he stepped briskly around to port.  “A magnificent prospect ahead of me, if I must depend upon the instructions and the official favor of a bully and a scoundrel like Cantor!  And he can make it hot for me, too, if he has a mind to do so!  Don’t I know how easy that ought to be for him?  I shall have, indeed, a lot of pleasure in my service on this ship, with Cantor for my division officer!”

Mindful of orders, Darrin’s first act was to copy the division roster and the station bills.  These he took to his room, placing them in a drawer of the desk, for future study.  For the present, he wanted to get out into the open air.

Though Ensign Dalzell had been directed to report on the quarter deck, he was not now there.  Dave walked about by himself until Lieutenant Trent came over and spoke to him.

“Dalzell is busy, I suppose, sir?” Dave inquired.

“Forward and below, directing the stowage of stores,” replied Trent.  “Have you been detailed to a division yet, Mr. Darrin?”

“Yes, sir; to Lieutenant Cantor’s division.”

“Ah, so?” inquired Trent.  He did not say more, from which Dave wondered if Trent did not like Cantor.  If such were the case, then Darrin’s opinion of Lieutenant Trent would run all the higher.

“Cantor is a very efficient officer,” Trent said, after a pause, not long enough to be construed unfavorably.

Dave did not answer this, for he could think of nothing to say.

“Some of our newest youngsters haven’t wholly liked him,” Trout went on, with a smile.  “I fancy that perhaps he works them a bit too grillingly.”

“After four years at the Naval Academy,” smiled Ensign Darrin, “it puzzles me to understand how any officer can resent grilling.”