"By Jove!" ejaculated Farrar. "I hope the padre won't complain to the commander. I can square the messman and make it all right with the rest of the mess, but the chaplain——"
"Plenty of time for that," resumed Sefton. "There are indications that the padre is in a state of siege. Bruno is lying on the floor of the cabin and against the door. The padre is sitting on his bunk and cuddling his knees. Every time he tries to get out Bruno growls, although I fancy that the animal's malady is responsible for that. The awkward part of the business is that the padre is mortally afraid of dogs. They are his pet antipathies. A yapping little terrier would give him cold feet, so you can imagine what effect Bruno would have on him."
"For goodness' sake, Banger, hike the animal out of it," replied Farrar. "I can't leave the deck, you know."
"I'll do my best," replied Sefton. "It is indeed fortunate that our Fleet Surgeon underwent a course in the Pasteur Institute. Do you happen to know whether a fat fellow is more susceptible to hydrophobia than a thin one? If so, I'll shunt Jenkyns on to the job."
Sefton departed upon his errand, while Farrar, wondering what the outcome of Bruno's escapade would be, made his way to the weather side of the navigation bridge.
The "Tantalus" was now well on her way down Channel. The Wolf Lighthouse, rising like a slender shaft from the sea, lay broad on the starboard beam. The motor patrol boats, having reached the limit of their station, were hoisting the affirmative pennant in answer to a signal for the cruiser to part company. From the as yet invisible Scillies another flotilla of patrol boats was approaching to take over escorting duties until the cruiser with her cargo of important civil personages was beyond the dangerous "chops of the Channel."
On board the "Tantalus" the utmost vigilance was maintained, the escorting destroyers notwithstanding. The six-inch and light quick-firers on the upper deck were manned ready to open fire at a moment's notice, should the sinister, pole-like periscopes of a U-boat show above the surface.
Every possible precaution had been taken to safeguard His Majesty's ship, and the party of civilians who, under Providence, were entrusted to the care of one of the units of the Great Silent Navy. The members of the deputation were standing on the after bridge, watching with absorbed interest the stately progress of a huge flying-boat that was making her way back to Trecurnow. Already that morning the sea had been explored for miles on either side of the cruiser's course, and the aerial scout had wirelessed to the effect that no hostile submarine had been sighted.
Within the microphone room on the fore bridge an alert petty officer stood with the receivers clipped to his ears, listening for any suspicious sound that might emanate from the churning of a U-boats propeller; but beyond the rhythmic purr of the engines of the two destroyers not a sound of machinery in motion in the vicinity of the cruiser was audible.
In less than ten minutes Sefton returned.