The Gunnery Lieutenant slid gracefully down the sloping shield of the turret. Fortunately, the consideration of paint-work vanished with the red dawn of August 5th, 1914.
"My word!" he said, staring towards the distant town. "My missus——" and vanished down the hatchway.
In the meanwhile the Signal-boy had descended to the wardroom, where he swiftly pinned the signal on to the notice board. The occupants of the arm-chairs and settee followed his movements with drowsy interest.
The Young Doctor rose and walked to the notice board.
"Snooks!" he ejaculated. "Leave!" And, with a glance at the clock, hurried out of the mess.
The remainder of his messmates sat up with excitement.
"What time?"
"When till?"
"What about a boat?"
The head of the Officer of the Watch appeared through the open skylight overhead. "Wake up, you Weary Willies. There's a boat to the beach at seven-bells."