Home > Authors Index > H. Irving Hancock > Dave Darrin at Vera Cruz > This page
Dave Darrin at Vera Cruz, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
||
Chapter 3. The Junior Worm Turns |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER III. THE JUNIOR WORM TURNS "Wonder what my man has in store for me?" flashed through Dave's mind, as he saluted his division commander. But Cantor, after returning the salute, merely turned away to pace the deck. Presently, however, the lieutenant stepped over to Darrin, when the pair had the quarterdeck to themselves. "Are you going to tell me?" murmured the lieutenant, his burning gaze on the frank young face before him. "Tell you what, sir?" Dave asked. "That taxicab number?" "No, sir!" "Think!" "When I have decided that a given course of conduct is the only course possible to a gentleman," Ensign Darrin replied, "I have no further occasion to give thought to that subject." "Darrin, you might make me your friend!" urged his superior officer. "That would be delightful, sir." "Darrin, don't try to be ironical with me!" Dave remained silent. "If you don't care for me for your friend, Darrin," Cantor warned him, "it is possible, on the other hand, to make an enemy of me. As an enemy you would not find me wanting either in resource or opportunity." "Have you any orders for me, sir?" asked Darrin, coolly. That was as near as he could come, courteously, to informing Cantor that he wished from him none but official communications. "Pardon me, sir," said Cantor, and stepped away to salute Commander Bainbridge, who had just appeared on the quarter-deck. There was a low-toned conversation between the two officers. Then, as the pair exchanged salutes, and Bainbridge went on to the captain's quarters, Lieutenant Cantor came back to his selected victim. "Darrin, you will go below and finish the watch, loading stores in the number four hold. I will pass the word for the petty officer who will have charge under you, and he will show you to the hold. If you wish you may put on dungarees, for it is rough work down there." "My baggage has not come aboard, sir," Dave replied. "This is the only uniform I have." In his perturbed state of mind, it did not occur to the young ensign that he could draw dungarees---the brown overall suit that is worn by officers and crew alike when doing rough work about the ship, from the stores, nor did Cantor appear to notice his reply. The messenger came, and brought Riley, the coxswain of one of the gigs. "Coxswain, Ensign Darrin will take charge of the shipping of the stores in number four hold," Cantor announced. "Show him the way to the hold and receive his instructions." Dave was speedily engaged between decks, in charge of tire work of some twenty men of the crew. At the hatch above, a boatswain's mate had charge of the lowering of the stores. "It would be a pity to spoil your uniform, sir," declared Coxswain Riley. "If you'll allow me, sir, I'll spare you all of the dirtiest work." "To shirk my duty would be a bad beginning of my service on this ship," smiled Darrin. "Thank you, Coxswain, but I'll take my share of the rough work." The hold was close and stifling. Although a cool breeze was blowing on deck, there was little air in number two hold. In ten minutes Darrin found himself bathed in perspiration. Dust from barrels and packing cases hung heavy in that confined space. The grime settled on his perspiring face and stuck there. "Look out, sir, or you'll get covered with pitch from some of these barrels," Riley warned Dave, respectfully. "One uniform spoiled is nothing," Dave answered with a smile. "Do not be concerned about me." Officer and men were suffering alike in that close atmosphere. By the time the watch was ended Dave Darrin was truly a pitchy, soiled, perspiration-soaked sight. Danny Grin, who reported to relieve his chum, looked rough and ready enough in a suit of dungarees that he had drawn. "I should have had brains enough to remember that I, too, could have drawn dungarees," Dave grunted, as he and his chum exchanged salutes. Then the relieved young officer hastened above to report the completion of his duty to his division commander, who would be furious if kept waiting. Dave glanced toward Cantor's quarters, then realized that the lieutenant must still be on the quarter deck. In his haste to be punctual, Darrin forgot his sword and white gloves, which he had left in his own cabin on the way to duty between decks. Without these appurtenances of duty on the quarter-deck, Darrin made haste aft, found his division commander, saluted and reported his relief. "Mr. Darrin," boomed Cantor, in a tone of high displeasure, "don't you know that an officer reporting to the quarter-deck when in any but dungaree clothes, should wear his gloves and sword. Go and get them, sir---and don't keep me waiting beyond my watch time when I have shore leave!" Again red-faced and humiliated, Ensign Darrin saluted, wheeled, made haste to his quarters, then returned wearing sword and gloves. This time he saluted and made his report in proper form. "Mr. Darrin," said his division officer, scathingly, "this is the second time to-day that I have had to teach you the things you should have learned in your first week at Annapolis. You are making a bad beginning, sir." Dave saluted, but this time did not answer in words. "You may go, Mr. Darrin, and hereafter I trust to find in you a more attentive and clear-headed officer." Lieutenant Cantor did not hold his tone low. It is the privilege of an officer to rebuke an enlisted man publicly, and as severely as the offense warrants, and it is the further privilege of an officer to make his rebuke to a subordinate commissioned officer as sharp and stinging as he chooses. Saluting, without a word, Darrin wheeled and walked to his quarters. "Cantor will certainly have abundant opportunity to make things warm for me," reflected Darrin, as he sat down before the desk in his cabin. "I wonder what I am to do, in order to keep my self-respect and keep my hands off the fellow. It would probably end my career in the Navy if I struck him on this ship." For some minutes Darrin sat in a rather dejected frame of mind, reviewing his first acquaintance with this official cur, and the things that had happened on shipboard since. "I suppose I could ask for a different detail," Dave mused, forlornly. "Undoubtedly, though, I wouldn't get the detail, unless I gave what were considered sufficiently good reasons, and I can't tell tales on my division commander, cur though I know him to be." In the passage outside, sounded passing footsteps and a laugh. Dave felt his face flush, for he recognized the voice of Lieutenant Cantor. "Danny Grin is a good chum," reflected Darrin, "but in this affair he can't advise me any better than I can advise myself. I wish I could talk freely with some older officer, who knows shipboard life better. But if I were to go to any older officer with such a tale as I have, it would-----" "In, Mr. Darrin?" sounded a cheery voice, and Commander Bainbridge, the executive officer, stood in the doorway, bringing young Darrin to his feet in prompt salute. "I was passing, Darrin, and so I called," announced the executive officer. "Otherwise, I would have summoned you to my office. Lieutenant Cantor has secured shore leave until eleven o'clock to-night. As we are busy aboard, Mr. Cantor's division is due for watch duty at eight bells this evening. As Mr. Cantor has shore leave you will report as officer of the deck until relieved by Lieutenant Cantor on his return to the ship. At any time between now and four bells report at my office and sign for these instructions." "Aye, aye, sir." Returning the ensign's salute, the executive officer next regarded Darrin's untidy appearance with some displeasure. "Mr. Darrin," Commander Bainbridge continued, "I note that you must have been on hard duty. No officer, after being relieved, is entitled to retain an untidy appearance longer than is necessary. You should have bathed, sir, and attired yourself becomingly. Neatness is the first requisite in the service." "I shall be glad to do that sir," Dave answered, respectfully, "as soon as my baggage comes aboard. At present this is the only uniform I have." "That alters the case, Mr. Darrin," replied the executive officer, kindly. "In case, however, your baggage does not arrive between now and dinner-time, you will not be warranted in going to the ward-room, unless you can borrow a uniform that fits you as well as one of your own." "I shall be very careful on that point, sir," Dave answered, respectfully, with another salute, returning which Commander Bainbridge departed. Ten minutes later Darrin's baggage was delivered. In their proper places the young ensign hung his various uniforms, placed his shoes according to regulation, and stowed his linen and underclothing in the wardrobe drawers. After this a most welcome bath followed. Dave then dressed with care in a fresh blue uniform, stepped to the executive officer's office and signed for his evening orders. There was time for fifteen minutes in the open air, after which Dave returned to his quarters to dress for dinner. This done, he stepped outside, knowing that the summons to the wardroom would soon come. At first Dave was the only officer at that point. Commander Bainbridge soon joined him. A desperate thought entering his mind, Dave addressed the commander as soon as his salute had been returned. "Sir, may I ask you a question connected with my own personal affairs?" he asked. "Certainly," replied the executive officer. "I was wondering, sir, if it would be wise for me to seek counsel from an older officer if at any time I found myself threatened with trouble, or, at least, with unpleasantness." "It would be a very wise course on your part, Darrin," replied Commander Bainbridge, though he regarded the ensign's face with keen scrutiny. "An older officer should always esteem it a pleasure, as well as a duty, to advise a younger officer. I take an interest in all the officers of this ship. If there is anything in which I can advise you, you may command me." "Thank you, sir. But, if you will permit me to frame an instance, if the advice that I asked of you might tend to prejudice you against one of your subordinate officers, would it be wiser for me to seek counsel of some officer not higher in rank than the officer whom I have just supposed?" "That is to say, Mr. Darrin, that the advice you might otherwise wish to ask of me might be taken in the light of a complaint against an officer who is one of my subordinates, and against whom you would not wish to carry tales? In that case, you would, by all means, show good judgment consulting a younger officer. But remember, Darrin, that not all men are equally wise. Be very careful whom you select at any time as adviser. And remember that, for any advice that you may properly ask of me, you may come to me without hesitation." "Thank you, sir. I trust you realize how deeply grateful I am to you," Dave protested earnestly. As other officers came up, Commander Bainbridge cut the discussion short by turning to greet the arrivals. Dinner in the ward-room was the formal meal of the day. The table, covered with snowy damask, glittered with crystal and silver. Silent, soft-moving little Filipinos, in their white mess suits, glided about, serving noiselessly. At the head of the table sat Commander Bainbridge, the executive officer, for the captain of a battleship dines in solitary state in his own apartments. On either side of the executive officer sat the other officers, in two long rows, according to their rank. On either side of the Commander were seated the officers with rank of lieutenant commander. Next to them were the lieutenants, senior grade. After them came the lieutenants, junior grade. At the foot of the table was a group of ensigns, the lowest in rank of commissioned officers of the Navy. Course followed course, and good humor prevailed at the officers' table. Now and then a good joke or a witty sally called forth hearty laughter. Here and there officers, dismissing laughter for the time being, talked of graver matters. Danny Grin soon found time to murmur the question: "How did you get along with your tyrant this afternoon?" "No better," Dave answered, moodily. "Did he rake you over the coals again?" "Yes." Then Darrin detailed the circumstances. "I am afraid he has it in for you, all right," muttered Danny Grin, scowling. "He'll report me as often as he can, I don't doubt," Dave replied. "If he can bring me up before a general court-martial, all the better." "I'm sorry you're not in Trent's division," Dan sighed. "He's a gentleman---a regular, sea-going officer." "Sea-going" is the highest praise that can be given in Navy circles. "If I were in Trent's division, probably you'd have fallen under Cantor," Darrin suggested. "That would have been all right," nodded Dalzell, cheerily. "Cantor has no direct cause to hate me, as he has in your case. Besides, I'd do a good many things to a mean superior that you wouldn't. If I had to stand watch with Cantor, and he tried any queer treatment of me, I'd find a way to make his life miserable. I believe I've shown some skill in that line in the past." "You surely have," Darrin nodded. "But I don't like to spring traps for my superior officers to fall into." "Not even in self-defence?" challenged Dalzell. "Not even to save myself," Darrin declared. At eight bells, in Lieutenant Cantor's absence, Darrin took the watch trick alone as officer of the deck until six bells, or eleven o'clock that night. There was not much to do. Now and then a shore leave man, sailor or marine, reported coming on board. Darrin made a note of the man's return and entered the time. Twice, a messenger brought some small order from the executive officer. Yet it was a dull watch, with the ship docked and nothing of importance happening. "Cantor will soon be back," thought Dave, at last, slipping out his watch and glancing at it under the light that came from the cabin. His timepiece showed the time to be five minutes to eleven. But a quarter of an hour passed, and no Lieutenant Cantor appeared. More time slipped by without the lieutenant's return. "That doesn't sound much like the punctuality that is required of a naval officer," Dave told himself, in some disquiet. Then finally a step was heard on the gangplank. Lieutenant Cantor came briskly up over the side, halting on the deck and saluting toward the stern, where the colors flew until sundown. "Mr. Darrin, I've come on board," reported the lieutenant, turning in time to catch Dave's salute. He stepped closer, to add: "You will enter a note that I came on board at 10.58." "The time is eleven-forty, sir," Dave reminded his superior, at the same time displaying his watch. "Note that I came on board at 10.58," insisted Cantor, frowning. "Sentry!" called Dave, briskly. "Aye, aye, sir!" "Note the time on the chronometer inside," Darrin ordered. "Aye, aye, sir." Then, returning the marine sentry answered: "It's eleven-forty, sir." Dave made the entry of the lieutenant's return. "You infernal trouble-maker," hissed Cantor, as the sentry paced on. "You dragged that sentry into it, just so you would have supporting testimony of the time I came aboard! I'll pay you back for that! Look out for trouble, Mr. Darrin!" _ |
||