“It was only a joke, sir; the other midshipman——”
“Never mind the other midshipman; answer my question,” thundered the superintendent.
In a helpless, reluctant way Mr. Chappell replied: “Yes, sir, but I provoked it.”
“That will do, sir. Mr. Osborn, you are under arrest awaiting trial by general court martial. I shall immediately prefer charges by telephone. Return to your quarters and report to the commandant.”
Poor Ralph! Well might he be pitied. He returned to his room stunned with his misfortune. He threw himself on his bed, face to the wall, and lay there dazed. All was over except the public announcement of his dismissal. He lay there for hours, in helpless, hopeless grief, almost in a stupor. The hopes and ambition of his life were killed, and stony despair entered his heart. Not for him was the glorious day outside, nor the companionship of midshipmen, happy that the end of the year had come. The pretty girls that wandered here and there through Lover’s Lane and the shady walks had no interest for the heart-sick youth whose hopes in life were suddenly destroyed.
Himski learned of all the circumstances from Bollup, and that sagacious youth learned of further facts from Mr. Chappell. He went to see the commandant and vainly endeavored to represent his roommate, guilty technically though perhaps he was, in reality the victim of the plot of a wicked person. But he was utterly refused permission to discuss the matter. Getting desperate he grew importunate and made several attempts to see the superintendent, taking Mr. Chappell with him; and finally he was reported by the superintendent for disobedience of orders because of his persistence.
Late the next morning, Ralph received a copy of the charges and specifications on which he was to be tried and was told to be in readiness for trial in twenty-four hours. He received these orders without comment, but with mute hopelessness.
“Os, for heaven’s sake get a counsel,” implored Himski. “Brace up, man, don’t lie down in this way; have some spirit in you, show a little fight.”
“It’s no use, Himski; I’m guilty and beyond help. I have no defense to make; I have no occasion for a counsel. There’s nothing for me to do except to take what’s coming to me.”
“I’ll swear you didn’t do it, Os,” cried Bollup, impulsively, “and we’ll fix up young Chappell; he’ll swear the same thing; he’s a well meaning young fellow and feels dreadfully.”