"Good-bye to our beaker, boathook and signal-flag," remarked Peter.
"Lost in a thundering good cause," added the Scoutmaster gravely. "Now, lads! up helm. We've got to look slippy if we're to save our tide!"
CHAPTER VI
TO SCUTTLE HIS SHIP
"I don't understand, sir," stammered Captain Josiah Quelch, fumbling with the peak of his cap.
"You don't understand," repeated Mr. Fiandersole, head of the shipping firm that bore his name. "You don't understand, eh? Do you want me to put the proposition any plainer? I don't think there's need for that, Captain Quelch."
There was silence for a few moments. Through the heavily curtained door of Mr. Fiandersole's private office came the clicking of half a dozen typewriters.
"It's no use trying to hedge," continued the head director crisply. "You've got to do and do it promptly—this voyage, in fact. I needn't recall to your mind a certain incident——"
"No, sir, you needn't," rejoined the agitated captain. "You've got me fairly on my knees."