Ensign Darrin bowed, then awaited further communication from his commanding officer.

“It was particularly set forth in the orders,” resumed Captain Gales, “that any form of conflict was to be avoided by the expedition of which you commanded a part, was it not?”

“It was, sir,” Darrin admitted.

“And yet, by the report which Lieutenant Cantor has turned in, you opened fire on Cosetta and his band and have returned to ship with two men killed and four men wounded.  Is that report correct?”

“It is, sir,” admitted the young ensign, “with one exception.”

“State the exception, Ensign Darrin,” ordered the captain, coldly.

“The exception, sir, is that Cosetta’s fellows opened fire on us first.”

Dave Darrin stood looking straight into Captain Gales’s eyes.

“Ensign Darrin, did you do anything to provoke that fire?” asked the commanding officer.

“Yes, sir,” Dave admitted.

“Ah!” breathed Captain Gales, while Cantor gave an almost inaudible ejaculation of triumph.

“What was it, sir, that you did to provoke Cosetta into ordering his fellows to fire?” questioned Captain Gales.

“Why, sir, I found and rescued the Americans after whom you sent me,” Dave explained.  “They were Cosetta’s prisoners.  There was not a shot fired on either side until after I had placed the released prisoners under the protection of my own men, and had started away with them.  Then the Mexican bandits opened fire on us.”

“Couldn’t you have escaped without returning the fire?”

“We might have been able to do so, sir.”

“Then why didn’t you?” pressed the captain.

“Because, sir, I felt sure that we would lose most of our men if we tamely submitted, and ran, pursued by superior numbers, to our launch.  Moreover, I was much afraid that some of the Americans we were trying to rescue would be hit.”

“In your judgment, Ensign Darrin, there was no other course open save to return the fire?”

“That was my exact judgment of the situation, sir,” replied the young ensign earnestly.

“And still is your best judgment?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Hm!” commented Captain Gales.  “And yet you have returned to ship with your casualties amounting to thirty per cent of your command, and one-third of your casualties are fatalities.”

“Those are the facts, sir,” interposed Lieutenant Cantor.  “Therefore, in the face of fighting against orders, and sustaining such losses to his own immediate command, I felt it my duty, sir, to prefer charges against Ensign Darrin.”

“This is a most unfortunate affair, sir,” commented Captain Gales.

Dave Darrin felt the hot blood mounting to his face.  He tried to control his wrath, but could not refrain from asking a question.  “Sir, do you wish me to hand my sword to you?” he said gravely, with a quick movement of his right hand toward his sword hilt.

“Not yet, at any rate,” answered Captain Gales, calmly.  “I wish to hear your story.”

“Very good, sir,” Dave returned, then plunged at once into a narrative that was stripped to the bare facts.  He told everything from the landing of his men to the final escape from the lagoon under Mexican fire.

“Of course, sir, Coxswain Riley and Corporal Ross will be able to bear me out as to the facts of which they have knowledge.  And I would suggest, sir,” Darrin added, “that Mr. Carmody, who knows more of Cosetta than any of us, will be able to give you an excellent opinion of whether I was obliged to throw my command into the fight.”

“How much of your ammunition did you bring back?” asked Captain Gales, his face betraying nothing of his inward opinion.

“All the Colt ammunition was used, sir.”

“And the rifle ammunition?”

“I do not believe, sir, that any man brought back more than three or four of his cartridges.  Some of the men, undoubtedly, have no ammunition left.”

“It is evident, sir,” hinted Lieutenant Cantor, “that Ensign Darrin did his best to bring on an engagement.  And his thirty per cent casualty list-----”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” broke in Captain Gales.  “The number of casualties, while unfortunate, is to be justified only by a decision as to whether it was expedient and right to engage the brigand, Cosetta.”

Lieutenant Cantor’s only comment was an eloquent shrug of his shoulders.

“Ensign Darrin,” continued Captain Gales, “if your story is true in every detail, then it would appear to me that your action, while I regret the necessity for it, could hardly be avoided.  In that case, your conduct does not appear to render you liable to censure.  Until further notice you will continue in your duties.  Lieutenant Cantor will, as early as possible, turn in a written report of the work of the expedition, and you, Ensign Darrin, will make a written report on your own part in the affair.  You will make your report through Lieutenant Cantor, who will hand it to me with his own report.  Lieutenant Cantor, in his report, will make such comment on Ensign Darrin’s statements as he sees fit.  You may go to your quarters, Darrin, and begin your report.”

“Very good, sir,” Darrin returned.  Saluting, he left the office.

Out in the passage-way Dave encountered Dan, who had been waiting for him.

“What’s in the wind?” asked Danny Grin, eyeing Dave anxiously.

“Cantor,” Dave returned, grimly.

“Is he trying to make trouble for you because you behaved like a brave man?” Dan asked, angrily.

“That is his plan.”

“The contemptible hound!” ejaculated Dan Dalzell.  “Do you think he is going to succeed in putting it over on you?”

“That’s more than I can predict,” Darrin answered his chum.  “Cantor is a bright man, and in rascality I believe him to be especially efficient.”

“I’d like to call the fellow out!” muttered Dan.

“Don’t think of it,” Dave Darrin urged, hastily, for he knew only too well the quality of Danny Grin’s temper when it was fully aroused.  “A challenge would suit Cantor to the skies, for it would enable him to have my best friend kicked out of the Navy.”

“I won’t think of it, then,” promised Ensign Dalzell, “unless that fellow tries my temper to the breaking point.”

Dave went hastily to his own quarters, where he laid aside his sword and revolver, bathed and dressed himself.  Then he sent a messenger in search of a typewriting machine.  When that came Darrin seated himself before it.  Rapidly, he put down all the essential circumstances of the night’s work.

Scanning the sheets closely, Dave made two or three minor changes in his report, then signed it.

Through a messenger, Darrin inquired if Lieutenant Cantor could receive him.  A reply came back that Dave might report to him at once.

“This is my report, sir,” Dave announced,

Dave was about to turn on his heel and leave the room, when Lieutenant Cantor stopped him with: 

“Wait a few moments, if you please, Darrin.  I wish to run hastily through your report.”

Declining the offer of a chair, Darrin remained standing stiffly.

As he went through the report, Cantor frowned several times.  At last he laid the signed sheets down on his desk.

“Darrin,” asked the division commander, “do you realize that you are out of place in the Navy?”

“I do not, sir,” Dave answered, coldly.

“Well, you are,” pursued Lieutenant Cantor.  “With your talents you should engage in writing the most improbable kinds of romances.”

“That report is true in every respect, sir,” Dave frowned.

“It appears to me to be a most improbable report –­as highly improbable as any official report that I have ever seen.”

“The report is true in every detail,” repeated Dave, his face flushing.

Lieutenant Cantor rose from his desk, facing his angry subordinate.

“You lie!” he declared, coldly.

“You cur!” Dave Darrin hissed back, his wrath now at white heat.

Instantly he launched a blow full at Cantor’s face.  The lieutenant warded it off.

Within three or four seconds several blows were aimed on both sides, without landing, for both were excellent boxers.

Then Dave drove in under Cantor’s guard with his left hand, while with his right fist he struck the lieutenant a blow full on the face that sent him reeling backward.

Clutching wildly, Cantor seized a chair, carrying it over with himself as he landed on the floor.

In an instant Lieutenant Cantor was on his feet, brandishing the chair aloft.

“Ensign Darrin,” he cried, “you have made the error of striking a superior officer when on duty!”