On the card in my friend’s neat handwriting were the words: ‘Tell him how you wrenched off the manhole door or you won’t come back in my boat.’
Such is the personal equation of the Naval Officer.
* * * * *
‘He’s in Ward 6,’ the sister told me. ‘Yes, this is visitors’ hour, you’re not breaking the rules,’ and we smiled at each other as she led the way up the cool stone staircase.
I found him sitting in an arm-chair, a young man wrapped in a blanket of some sort, but haggard, and, it may have been my imagination, rather gray for his age.
He eyed me suspiciously, and I handed him the magic card.
‘That’s Mr Hellison,’ he said, grinning broadly; ‘’e always was one for a joke like.’
I sat down and asked him how he was.
‘Not so ruddy,’ he answered, ‘but it give me a fair turn, it did.’
‘And you’re stopping in submarines?’