“Then I am obliged to tell you, Cantor,” Lieutenant Trent went on, “that at the courtmartial I shall be obliged to appear as one of Darrin’s witnesses.  Further, I shall be obliged to testify that you said to him, ‘you lie.’  Then Darrin knocked you down, as any other self-respecting man must have done.”

“But I didn’t tell him he lied,” protested Cantor, with much seeming warmth.  “On the contrary, I asked him if he meant to imply that I lied.”

“That may be your version, Cantor,” Lieutenant Trent rejoined, “but I have just told you what my testimony will have to be.”

“What’s your interest in this Darrin fellow?” Cantor demanded, half-sneeringly.

“Why, in the first place,” Trent answered, calmly, “I like Darrin.  And I regard him as an excellent, earnest, faithful, competent young officer.”

“But why should you try to shield him, and throw me down, if this matter comes before a court-martial?”

“Because I am an officer,” replied Trent, stiffly, drawing himself up, “and also, I trust, a gentleman.  It is both my sworn duty and my inclination to see truth prevail at all times in the service.”

“But think it over, Trent,” urged Lieutenant Cantor.  “Now, aren’t you ready to admit that you heard me ask, ’Am I a liar’?”

“I can admit nothing of the sort,” Trent returned.  Then, laying a hand on the arm of the other lieutenant, Trent continued: 

“Cantor, all the signs point to the belief that we shall be at war with Mexico at any time now.  We can’t afford to have the ward-room mess torn by any court-martial charges against any officer, unless he richly deserves the prosecution.  Darrin doesn’t; that I know.  I have no right to balk any officer who demands a courtmartial of any one on board, but it is right and proper that I should he prepared to take oath as to what I know of the merits of the matter.  I must assume, and I hope rightly, that you really have an erroneous recollection of what passed before the blow was struck.  Cantor, you have the reputation of being a hard master with young officers, but I know nothing affecting your good repute as an officer and a gentleman.  I am ready to believe that you, yourself, have a wrong recollection of what you said, but I am very certain as to the exact form of the words that I heard passed.  Good night!”

Barely returning the salutation, Cantor passed on to Captain Gales’s office, to which he was promptly admitted.

The hour was late, but the commander of the “Long Island” was anxious to get at the whole truth of the evening’s affair ashore, and so was still at his desk.

“Oh, I am glad to see you, Lieutenant Cantor,” was the captain’s greeting, as that officer appeared, after having sent in his compliments.  “You have both reports?”

“Here they are, sir,” replied the younger officer, laying them on the desk.

“Be seated, Lieutenant.  I will go through these papers at once.”