"All right, carry on," he replied, dismissing the now shivering A.B.
"Mr. Macquare," he continued, turning to the Lieutenant, "come below with me if you please."
The two officers repaired to the Hon. Derek's cabin.
"Young Fordyce has got into hot water, judging by this messsage," remarked the Lieutenant-Commander, holding up the sodden parcel for his subordinate's inspection. "It's lucky the address is given, for I believe I forgot it. Now what's to be done?"
"Call for volunteers for a rescue-party, sir," suggested Mr. Macquare promptly.
The Hon. Derek shook his head.
"Won't do, Mr. Macquare. We aren't lying on an uncivilized coast, where we can act off our own bat. We've got to tread warily. All the same, there's no time to be lost. If we work through diplomatic channels there'll be weeks, perhaps months, of exasperating delay. We must be under way within the next twenty-four hours unless we are to be frozen in here for the winter. And I don't want to leave my Sub behind. Hallo, what is it? I'm busy."
The entry of a bluejacket holding a piece of pasteboard in his hand interrupted the discussion.
The card was that of Naval-Lieutenant Rodsky.
"Show him down below," ordered the Hon. Derek. "Dash it all, Macquare, Rodsky's a sound fellow; he might help us."