“Think I can run over to the village?” continued Roy.
“What’d you want to do there?” asked Alan. “No soda water in England you know.”
“I thought I’d mail the folks a picture postal card,” laughed Roy. “That’ll be one way to prove we’ve been here.”
“But a better way to put in your time,” interrupted Ned again, “will be for you and Bob to take charge of the men who are to go back with us and get ’em aboard and in their staterooms. Buck,” he announced, “you get the new supplies and water aboard and store ’em away. Alan and I’ll be busy with the fuel and oil. If we’ve got any time left after that, we’ll stretch our legs and rest.”
“Hereford, by the chart,” was Roy’s only reply. “Stand by for Cheltenham and Oxford dead ahead.”
Buck, somewhat nervous over his coming pilot duty, was hastening to finish his report. When Roy announced Cheltenham a few minutes later, Buck hastily ended his copy, sealed and addressed it and sprang to Alan’s side by the wheel.
“The shore pilot is aboard, sir,” exclaimed Alan turning toward Ned and speaking with assumed dignity.
“Very good,” answered Ned. “Turn the ship over to him.”
Roy, continuing the joke, turned his land chart face down on the desk and arose with a smile, stretching his arms.
“I suppose I’m off duty now, sir.”