Eric Greenwood, although outwardly the "fitter" of the twain, was still suffering from the effect of the injuries sustained in the monitor's fire-control platform. His fate was literally in the balance, for he was about to undergo another "medical board," upon the finding of which his retention in His Majesty's Navy depended.
Tressidar, too, was chafing under the enforced delay. Complete rest after strenuous activity afloat is all very well, but in time it palls horribly. The call of the sea, strong even in the far-remote times of peace, was now irresistible. Rumours of activity on the part of the German fleet had grown persistent until the sub. realised the possibility of The Day being pulled off while he was still cooling his heels in the grounds of the naval hospital.
"Yes," declared the A.P., throwing the morning paper on the grass beside his chair, "I'm bored stiff. We want something to cheer us up. Solid good news, and no more silly tosh in the shape of purely hypothetical statements of what may happen if something else doesn't."
"What's upset your apple-cart now, old man?"
"Look at the news. Another hostile cruiser raid, followed, presumably, by a letter from an amateur Lord of the Admiralty expressing regret for the damage done to the bombarded town and a promise that if the enemy try it again they'll feel sorry for themselves. Ten days ago, too, the Press was deriding an official Turkish communiqué. Now, as in previous cases, the report proves to be absolutely correct. It makes a fellow feel particularly savage, doesn't it?"
Tressidar shrugged his shoulders.
"Because we are out of it," he replied. "Out there, when we are doing our individual bit, we had the satisfaction of knowing that whenever a chance occurred we were too many for the Huns. We don't advertise; we are not allowed to let others advertise for us, still the work goes on. Out of touch with events afloat, we are apt to be influenced by the opinion of the great and uninformed British Public. Still, I admit, a little good news would be welcome. Here's Fuller to cheer you up," he continued, as the flight-sub. came limping up over the grass. "Well, my festive bird, how goes it?"
The flight-sub. had not been long in following his former companion in captivity. It was he who had bombed the submarine just as the refloated monitor was about to bring her remaining 14-inch gun to bear upon the "U" boat. Having accomplished this feat, Fuller flew back to Harwich to summon assistance to the badly damaged "Anzac," and, by the irony of fate, had slipped from the second rung of a ladder on board the parent ship and had fractured his ankle.
"What's that?" demanded the newcomer as he tendered his cigarette-case. Our A.P. requires cheering up?"
"Yes; he's developed a bad grousing attack," replied Tressidar. "Got it badly, don't you know."