'Oh, I see,' the commander observed. 'A girl's really at the bottom of it—what?'
Martin hung his head and made no reply.
'You've got a very good black eye, I see, and a swollen mouth. Did you do him any other damage besides making his nose bleed?'
'Yessir,' said Pincher hopefully, looking up with the ghost of a smile. 'I thinks one o' 'is eyes is bunged up too.'
'Indeed! Well, so far as I can see, it's a question of six of one and half-a-dozen of the other.—Where's his record?' the commander asked, turning to a ship's corporal, who was holding an enormous conduct-book open against his bosom. 'H'm! No entries. Clean sheet. What division's he in?'
'Mine, sir,' said Lieutenant Tickle, coming forward.
'What sort of a man is he? Had any trouble with him?'
'None at all, sir. Does his work quite well.'
The commander turned to the misdemeanant. 'Well,' he said, speaking quite kindly and quietly, 'you haven't been in the service very long, my lad; but the sooner you realise we can't have this sort of thing going on the better. I don't object to fighting—we're all paid to do that when the time comes; but if you want to take on one of your squadron-mates, you'd better do it somewhere where you won't be seen. Brawling in the streets only gets the navy into disrepute, so bear it in mind.' He paused.
Pincher hung his head.