From inside Dan Dalzell heard the words.

At once, on the stroke of eight bells, the mess signal was hung
to the breeze. While that flag flew no one was admitted to the
battleship unless he belonged on board.

Then appeared a little Filipino mess servant, who asked Dave and
Dan to follow him to their assigned seats.

"Am I permitted to go to mess, sir?" Dave asked of Lieutenant
Cantor.

"Yes," was the short answer.

While the signal flew the sergeant of the marine guard was in
charge at the quarter-deck gang plank. There was no need of a
commissioned officer there.

To their delight Darrin and Dalzell found themselves assigned
to seats at the table together.

Lieutenant Trent stepped down, introducing the new arrivals to
the officers beside whom, and opposite whom they sat.

"I was sorry to hear you get that calling down," Dalzell whispered
to his chum, as soon as that was possible under the cover of the
conversation of others. "Why did Lieutenant Cantor seem to enjoy
his privilege so much?"

After a covert glance, to make sure that he was not in danger of