“You report more good luck—fine management, too!” cried the admiral, his face beaming. “You two officers do not seem to be able to put to sea without running into the sort of doings that make fine reading in the newspapers at home. You have made wonderful drives against the submarines, but your nerves must be well gone to pieces by this time.”
“No, sir,” Darrin replied. “I’m ready for new sailing orders to-night.”
“You won’t get them,” the admiral retorted, bluntly. “Mr. Darrin, your wife, and ill at that, is ashore, I am informed. She was one of your rescued ones to-day.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is she wholly recovered?”
“She will be, by morning, sir.”
“And you are professing willingness to go on board and start with new sea orders to-night!”
“In war time, sir, I must think only of my work,” Dave answered.
For a few moments the admiral sat there, regarding both young officers keenly.
“You’re splendid fellows, both of you,” the older man said, at last. “So good, in fact, that you’re soon to be moved from these waters.”