"Here, sir!"
One of the many doors opened, and a tall, soldierly man appeared dressed in the smart livery of a mess waiter. "Got something hot, sir," he said brusquely. "I guessed food would be wanted, and so I set the cook to work to prepare it. But they're wet, sir."
He nodded to the young naval officer and his men, and looked at them with interest.
"Drenched," said Alec. "Pass the men along to Peters. Tell him to ferret out clothing for 'em, and give 'em a meal. I'll take the officer to my cabin, and we'll be in the saloon in five minutes."
The sergeant went off at once along the gallery, motioning to Hawkins and his comrades to follow; while Alec dived in through an adjacent door and ushered Dicky into as nice a cabin as he had ever seen. Indeed, it contrasted more than favourably with his own quarters aboard the vessel from which he had so recently parted. It was flooded with light from a couple of electric burners, and heated by a stove fitted in the far corner which was also operated by electricity. There were pictures on the walls, secured in a manner which he had never observed before, while the walls themselves were of a milky-white colour.
"Sit down over here," cried Alec, doing the honours with obvious pride. "You see, this cabin communicates with the next, and there's a common bathroom. That'll be the place in which to pull off your wet togs. Hop into a hot bath as soon as you've got 'em off. By then I'll have a complete rig-out for you. We're about the same height and size, eh?"
He had been looking his guest up and down sharply, admiring his uniform, in spite of its drenched condition. And short though his scrutiny had been Alec had come to the conclusion that Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw was a right good fellow. As for Dicky himself, the novelty of his surroundings and the strange adventure through which he had passed had altogether kept his attention from his new comrade. He had merely noticed that Alec was a straight, active-looking fellow, with a pleasant smile and a jolly manner about him. Now, as he thanked him for his kind attention he gave the young man a quick, frank glance, which missed very little.
"I say, thanks awfully," he began. "What's—what's your other name?"
"Jardine—Alec Jardine. But Alec's good enough. Yours is Hamshaw, isn't it, Dicky?"
"Yes, Dicky," grinned the midshipman. "It's stuck to me ever since I was at Osborne. I hate it, I can tell you. Makes one think one is a girl. It's an awful nuisance looking so frightfully young, ain't it?"