"You may have the chance yet," replied Waynsford. He had been thinking deeply for the last few moments. "I'm afraid I'm on the wrong lay. Here I am, wearing His Majesty's uniform, fooling about in a rotten little motor-boat, when I ought to be taking a man's part out there," and he pointed towards the North Sea."
"You haven't done badly, when you come to think of it," remarked Terence. "At Yarmouth, for instance."
"A beastly fluke. You, my dear fellow, had most of the game then."
"Buck up!" exclaimed Aubyn cheerily. "You may have a good sniff-in yet. If you don't, remember there's some verse about people serving who only sit and wait. I'm not fond of poetry myself, but perhaps you may know the line I refer to. Let's make a move. There may be more work for us amongst the ruins."
"May I coom along wi' tha', maaster?" asked the fisherman, who was coiling away the rope that had been so instrumental. "Eh, lad, thou'rt real champion."
"By all means," replied the sub. heartily. In spite of his years the old fellow had his wits about him. If there should be any work of a similar nature his assistance would be most valuable.
Before they had gone fifty yards the attention of Aubyn and his party was attracted by the sudden appearance of an elderly corpulent man whose garments consisted of a pyjama suit, over which he wore a woman's jacket with the sleeves tied round his throat, an old pair of carpet slippers and a felt hat. He had just emerged from a cellar, into which he had bolted during the earlier stages of the bombardment. Blinking like an owl he asked plaintively if the danger was at an end.
"Eh, maaster," replied the fisherman. "They kind and humane Germans sheered off half an hour agone."
"It's disgraceful!" exclaimed the dishevelled man vehemently. "Didn't the First Lord of the Admiralty tell us plainly, only a few months ago, that we could sleep quietly in our beds? Weren't those his exact words?"
"Ay," replied the old salt, with a grim twinkle in his eye. "Ay, that a' did. Th' knows the Huns gave us a look up at a time when most folks ought to be up an' about. Naw, get you gone, friend Thomas; thou'rt not fit to be seen in a respectable town like Scarbro'."