“You fellows certainly have been having a lot of fun,” he said, half enviously, half laughingly. “While here am I with nothing exciting to brighten things for me since the war ended.”
“Were you on the other side?” asked Frank eagerly. “Golly, how I wanted to go over, but Uncle George said I was too young.”
Warwick nodded.
“I was on convoy duty,” said he, “and had several brushes with German submarines. I was torpedoed twice, and once sunk a sub.”
The three chums regarded him with the greatest interest.
“Just now,” he continued, “I’ve been loaned to the Secret Service. Left San Pedro harbor only yesterday morning to report to Inspector Burton at
Santa Barbara. Evidently he had boarded the Bear at that port, however, and then changed his mind about going north, for he radioed me to take him off.”
A rap on the door interrupted and Ensign Warwick called an order to enter. A sailor stood in the doorway, coming smartly to salute.
“Fog’s not lifting, sir,” he said. “And no sound to indicate the trawler. Your orders to report in an hour, sir.”
“Right, Farrell,” answered Ensign Warwick. “You may go.”