“Go on, Sentley, you are senior—you answer.”
“Yes,” shouted Sentley.
“Down into the boat, then.... No, not in the pinnace. Get into the picket-boat’s cabin.”
They clambered across as they were bid.
“This must be one of the intermediate snotties,” Lynwood said to Fane-Herbert.
“Yes. Don’t you remember him at Dartmouth? Ollenor?”
“Ollenor, is it? I haven’t seen his face yet under his sou’wester.”
The picket-boat’s cabin was divided into two parts—an outer section, comfortable, light, and clean, which in fair weather was adorned no doubt with white-covered cushions with blue crests; and an inner section, dark and ill-ventilated, wherein were kept signal lamps and all manner of spare fittings. They seated themselves in the outer section because they came to it first.
“Do you think we ought to sit here? Suppose some officers come down?” Sentley suggested. In the training cruiser it had been the custom for cadets to sit on the cabin’s roof.