Ned, his head fairly buzzing with his good fortune, hastened forward. He wished he could communicate with Herc and cheer up that captive by news of their good fortune. Musing thus, he had the misfortune, as he reached the fore deck, to collide with a man hastening in an opposite direction. He looked up with a quick word of apology, and found himself gazing full into the scowling features of the Dreadnought Boys' arch enemy--Kennell! "Out of my way, you young mucker!" glowered the man, with a look of hatred, "or I'll maul you up as badly as I did that red-headed young cub." "You mean my friend, Herc Taylor." "I said 'cub!'" "And I said friend!" Ned returned the man's glare firmly. "I see I shall have to give you a good lesson, too, one of these days!" hissed Kennell evilly. Ned, fresh from the presence of the captain, proud of his promotion--for so he considered it, the twelve-inch turret being the "prize detail" of the ship--had no desire to get into a fistic argument. He knew the captain was a stickler for discipline, for all his kind heart, and that with one of the Dreadnought Boys already undergoing punishment, although unjustly, it would be the worst thing that could happen for him to become embroiled with Kennell. He therefore regarded Kennell with a cold stare and said sharply: "Let me pass, please. I am in a hurry and have no time to waste." Kennell planted his bulky form squarely in the Dreadnought Boy's path. "You'll pass when I get good and ready," he grated out. "It's time you boys learned a lesson or two, and I'm going to give it to you!" "I said let me pass," repeated Ned firmly, making a determined effort to quell his rising tide of hot anger at the fellow's evident determination to provoke him into a quarrel. "Call me 'sir' when you address me," ordered Kennell pugnaciously. "I'm going to teach you how to address your seniors in the service." "I only say 'sir' to men I respect," was the sharp retort, the very coolness of which stung Kennell to renewed fury. His rage was increased by the fact that a group of sailors, momentarily growing larger, began to titter at his discomfiture. "Better leave him alone, Ralph," laughed old Tom mischievously. "He's as sharp a young file as I am an old one." Ned took advantage of the temporary diversion to try to slip past without trouble. He had his own ideas of getting even with Kennell, and it was no part of his plan to break regulations by getting involved in a fight with him on shipboard. He stepped forward to pass on. Kennell was too quick for him. "Say 'sir'!" he demanded. "I have already told you for whom I reserved that distinction," said Ned in a low voice, "and you are emphatically not in that class." "Maybe this will teach you respect for your superiors." A huge, gnarled fist, knotted and twisted by many a battle, shook under Ned's nose. The undismayed boy gave a low laugh of contempt.