Jack looked straight into the officer’s eyes as he put the question
bluntly. An officer of the Army or of the Navy _must not_ answer a
question untruthfully. Neither, as a rule, may he make an evasive answer.
So the lieutenant commander thought a moment, before he replied:

“I don’t feel that I know you well enough, Mr. Benson, to express an
opinion that might be wholly fair to you. The most I can say, now, is that
I very sincerely hope such a thing will not happen again during your stay
at the Naval Academy.”

“It won’t, sir,” promised Jack Benson, “if I have hereafter the amount of
good judgment that I ought to be expected to possess.”

“I hope not, Mr. Benson, for it would destroy your usefulness here. A
civilian instructor here, as much as a naval instructor, must possess the
whole confidence and respect of the cadet battalion. I hope none of the
cadets who may have seen you this morning recognized you.”

Then, taking on a different tone, Mr. Mayhew informed his young listener
that a section of cadets would board the “Farnum” at eleven that morning,
another section at three in the afternoon, and a third at four o’clock.

“Of course you will have everything aboard your craft wholly shipshape,
Mr. Benson, and I trust I hardly need add that, in the Navy, we are
punctual to the minute.”

“You will find me punctual to the minute before, sir.”

“Very good, Mr. Benson. That is all. You may go.”