Pennington's eyes gleamed when he caught sight of Darrin, Dalzell and Farley—for Pen had a scheme of his own in mind.
Not far from Pennington stood a little Englishman with keen eyes and a jovial face. Pen stepped over to him.
"There are the three midshipmen I was telling you about," whispered Pennington, slipping a half sovereign into the Englishman's hand. "You thoroughly understand your part in the joke, don't you?"
"Don't h'I, though—just, sir!" laughed the undersized Englishman, and strolled away.
Darrin and his friends were soon informed by classmates that the launches now making shore-ward were coming in on their last trip for midshipmen.
"Well, we're here in plenty of time," sighed Dave contentedly.
"Oh, I knew we'd be, with you holding the watch," laughed Dan in his satisfied way.
As the three stood apart they were joined by the undersized Englishman, who touched his hat to them with a show of great respect.
"Young gentlemen," he inquired, "h'I suppose, h'of course, you've 'ad a look h'at the anchor h'of Sir Francis Drake's flagship, the time 'e went h'out h'and sank the great Spanish h'Armada?"
"Why, no, my friend," replied Dave, looking at the man with interest. "Is that here at Plymouth?"