Then the sun rose higher and the land disappeared, to become visible again later on about twenty miles distant.
The silk ensign, sign of conquest and good luck, was hoisted, and ‘123’ made her number and answered the challenge. The outside patrols became active and the mine-sweepers on their outward way dragged past them, their kites towing behind and bouncing over the water as they went. Somebody on a trawler evidently saw what interested him, for a telescope went up and then came the signal. ‘Hearty congratulations,’ semaphored across in slow and painful sections by a shock-haired boy in a pair of baggy trousers.
‘Thanks very much,’ replied ‘123,’ as she hurried on to the harbour and headed through the gate. Then up and through the Fleet, the silk ensign fluttering in the breeze, and the boat came to rest once more alongside the Parentis and outside the trot of submarines. Then she made fast, and the crew grinned at one another and broke away, carrying the debris of the trip down to the mess-decks.
‘’Ullo, cocky,’ said a man who was hammering an iron plate, ‘’ad a good trip?’
‘You bet we ’ave,’ replied the one addressed, who was carrying a bucket full of potatoes and a loaf of bread. ‘You bet we ’ad. Saw Fritz, too.’
‘Reely. You ’it ’im?’
‘Course we did, do you think——’
Somewhere up on the quarter-deck a voice said,—
‘Hallo, Raymond’s back. Gee-whiz. Look what he’s flying. What is it, Raymond?’
‘Only a wee one,’ came the answer.