He carelessly extended the folded missive, and summoning all his self-possession, looked his friend in the eyes and smiled wanly. "I've only just read my sister's letter," he went on. "She seemed rather puzzled…"
Mordaunt took the proffered letter and nodded. "Yes," he said, "it's mine." He, too, paled a little. "I think I know what's happened. Do you remember that scrap just as we were finishing our letters the other night? Bosh pulled the table-cloth down and capsized everything. Our letters got mixed up, and we must have addressed each other's envelopes."
He stood turning the letter to his father over and over in his fingers.
"Well," said Harcourt reassuringly, "it doesn't matter much, old thing, does it? I'm just going to put this in another envelope and send it off to my sister, with a note to explain. There's no harm done! I don't suppose your letter was a matter of vast importance either, was it, Billy?" He spoke lightly, in a tone of amused indifference, and turned to the locker where he kept his writing materials.
The other walked over to the stove, slowly tearing his letter into pieces.
"No," he said. "Oh, no … none at all."
CHAPTER VI
WET BOBS
A flurry of sleet came out of the east where a broad band of light was slowly widening into day.
The tarpaulin cover to the after hatchway was drawn aside as if by a cautious hand, and the rather sleepy countenance of the Young Doctor peered out into the dawning. An expression of profound distaste spread over it, and its owner emerged to the quarterdeck. There he stood shivering, looking about him as if he found the universe at this hour a grossly over-rated place. After a few minutes' contemplation of it thus, he turned up the collar of his great coat, pulled his cap down until it gave him the appearance of a sort of Naval "Artful Dodger," and walked gloomily to the port gangway. The Officer of the Watch, who was partaking of hot cocoa in the shelter of the after superstructure, sighted this forlorn object.