“Well, sir, name the charges, for it is getting awful warm here,” said Walter, in his impatience to know the charges, which he felt was to know several lies.
“Wall, they say at the ’cademy where you were, that you were up to scrapes, a–drinkin’ and carousin’, and that you have been drinkin’ here, even while at the station.”
“It is a lie, one big Atlantic lie, big as that ocean out there!”
“There, I told ye so!” said a voice triumphantly. “I knew it was just so! Good for you, Walter! S’cuse me, Cap’n, but I happened to come in just then and couldn’t help a–hearin’ ye.”
It was Tom Walker who had suddenly entered, his bushy beard whitened by the snow–flakes dropping without.
“If you hadn’t mentioned it, Cap’n, I was goin’ to, this very day. I thought it was dickerlus and didn’t b’lieve it was worth noticin’ at fust; but it’s got so at last, I should have spoken of it if you hadn’t, and Woodbury would if I hadn’t.”
“That’s so, Cap’n, every word of it!” and now behind Tom, appeared Woodbury at the door, brushing the snow off from his coat. “That’s so,” he continued, and he looked at Walter not at all in the gimlet fashion, but a friendly smile of recognition lightened up his handsome face.
“Oh, you are of my mind, boys,” said the keeper. “I knew Walter wouldn’t do that thing. It is not his style at all.”
“Now, Cap’n, I want to know who has been accusing me,” said Walter. “This thing must be looked into.”
“That is only fair. Several have mentioned it, but Joe Cardridge seems to be the special one.”