CHAPTER II.
AT THE MERCY OF A BULLY Their hands met, but in light clasp, without pretense of warmth.
Then Darrin fell back, bringing his right hand mechanically to a salute as he mumbled: "I am Ensign Darrin, sir, and have been ordered, by the executive officer, to report to you for duty in your division." "Very good, Mr.Darrin," rejoined the lieutenant.

"My division goes on watch at eight bells noon.

You will report to me on the quarter deck at that time." "Very good, sir." With a quick step Lieutenant Cantor reached the curtain, holding it slightly aside and peering out into the passage-way.

His face was red, but there was one portion that was redder still.
"I see," Dave reflected, "that Cantor still wears the welt that I printed on his cheek last night.

But it staggers me," he thought, gravely, "to find such a fellow holding an officer's commission in the Navy." Satisfied that there were no eavesdroppers near, Lieutenant Cantor stepped back, facing the young ensign, whom he looked over with an expression of mingled hate and distress.
"I believe we have met before," said Cantor, with a quick, hissing indrawing of his breath.
"To my very great regret, we have, sir," Darrin answered, coldly.
"Last night!" "Yes, sir." "And you behaved abominably, Darrin!" "Indeed, sir ?" "You interfered," Lieutenant Cantor continued, "with one of the most important affairs of my life." "Yes, sir?
With one of the most shameful, I should imagine, sir." Ensign Darrin's tone was officially respectful, but his glance cold.