Next came the turns of the two men who had shared the same cell with him.
"Carl Schultz, ordinary seaman, and Silas Wagg, ordinary seaman," read the captain's yeoman who acted as a sort of "clerk of the court."
"What's the offense?" asked the captain.
"Overstaying their shore leave four hours, sir," was the rejoinder.
"Any previous bad record?"
"No, sir. I have found none," volunteered the master-at-arms.
"Men," said the captain, in the same icy tones as he had used toward the three intemperate prisoners, "you are guilty of a serious offense. In the navy regularity should be a watchword with all of us. It may seem to you that to overstay your leave by four hours was but a small matter, and that you yourselves would not be missed among eight hundred or more men. Yet every one of the crew and each of your forty-two officers has a niche of his own to fill. We are all cogs in the same great machine, servants working for the good of the same government.
"If any one of us is derelict in his duty, he is not only derelict to himself and to his officers, but to his country and his flag. Always bear that in mind. As this is your first offense, and your officers tell me you are hard-working men and good seamen, I shall dismiss you with a reprimand. But mind," he added sternly, "if either of you is brought before me again I shall not prove so lenient. Carry on."
With grateful faces, the two men hastened off forward.
How Herc longed to tell of what he had heard in the cell! But he dreaded to make himself appear ridiculous by reciting what might seem an improbable story, cooked up by one who already rested under a cloud, so he said nothing.