While the signal flew the sergeant of the marine guard was in charge at the quarter-deck gang plank. There was no need of a commissioned officer there.
To their delight Darrin and Dalzell found themselves assigned to seats at the table together.
Lieutenant Trent stepped down, introducing the new arrivals to the officers beside whom, and opposite whom they sat.
"I was sorry to hear you get that calling down," Dalzell whispered to his chum, as soon as that was possible under the cover of the conversation of others. "Why did Lieutenant Cantor seem to enjoy his privilege so much?"
After a covert glance, to make sure that he was not in danger of being overheard, Darrin replied, in an undertone:
"Lieutenant Cantor was the man of whom I told you last night."
"Not the——-"
"Yes," Dave nodded.
"But it seems incredible that an officer of our Navy could be guilty of any such conduct," Dalzell gasped, his eyes large with amazement. "Are you sure?"
"Didn't you notice the welt on Mr. Cantor's cheek?" Dave asked, dryly.