Phil stepped smartly up to him and saluted.
Lazar turned slowly toward him. His brow contracted imperceptibly as he returned the salute of the midshipman.
“Mr. Perry reports to you, sir, as junior officer of the fourth division,” Phil said in the official tone he had been taught to use at Annapolis. His eyes unwaveringly sought the restless energetic face of his divisional officer.
Would Lazar give him his hand? Phil was ready to believe that his boyish quarrel and fight were forgiven. He waited what seemed a long time while officer and midshipman each looked straight into the eyes of the other. Neither wavered, and each seemed to wish to sweep aside the other’s mask and read the thoughts behind the cold impassive exterior.
“Aye, aye, Mr. Perry,” finally replied Lazar. “Get a correct list of the division, and a copy of our station bills. You will find them posted in the division bulletin-board.” Then glancing at the bright clean uniform of the youth before him, “You had better put on your oldest clothes, then come up here, and I shall give you something to occupy you. You stand watch with me, you know?”
Phil held his hand at his side ready to offer it at the first intimation that it would be accepted by the older man, but Lazar did not show by voice or sign that he wished for anything more than purely official relations with the midshipman.
“I am ready now for duty, sir,” answered Phil in a voice that, strive as he could to hide it, betrayed a tone of disappointment, tinged with indignation. Glancing down at his converted Annapolis uniform, “I have no older ones,” he confessed. “I might as well break this in, sir.”
“Very good; you will take charge of the work on the forecastle.” Glancing about and motioning a smart-looking petty officer to advance, “O’Neil, here, is in our division.” Then addressing the attentive coxswain, “You are excused from other work and will lend Mr. Perry a hand. He is our new midshipman, and is about to direct the work on the forecastle.” Then again turning to Phil and dropping his voice: “That’s a splendid man, he knows the name of every man on board. You will find him a willing subordinate.”
Phil saluted stiffly in Annapolis fashion, while O’Neil jerked his hand toward his cap and in a businesslike voice announced his readiness by a hearty, “Aye, aye, sir.”
O’Neil led the way through the battery deck, the men engaged in work there standing aside in respectful attention to allow the new arrival to pass.