CHAPTER XXXIV
THE SCUTTLING
"I say, old bean!" exclaimed Cumberleigh. "Can you give me a good tip?"
"For what?" inquired Meredith cautiously.
"It's like this," explained the R.A.F. officer. "I've three days' leave. Why I've been granted it is a mystery, as one doesn't get much in the R.A.F. without asking for it. However, that is a digression. The bald facts of the case are I have three days' leave, which means that I have to report for duty on Monday. Now it's perfectly obvious that I can't get home and back in the time; I haven't the cheek to wire for an extension, so what can I do to spend the time?"
"You miserable blighter!" exclaimed Kenneth laughing, "Do you mean to tell me you didn't know we were running round to Aberdeen?"
"Guilty, m'lud," confessed Cumberleigh. "I may as well admit that I was fishing for an invite. More'n that, I've packed my kit-bag in anticipation of a sea-trip for the benefit of my health."
It was now summer. In the warm long-drawn days the Orkneys were at their best. Forgotten almost were those strenuous periods of patrol amidst the fierce winter gales and snowstorms—or at least time mellowed the reminiscences, partly obliterating the dark phases and keeping alive the pleasing episodes of the Long, Long Trick.
M.L. 1497 had been ordered to convey a small bulk of naval stores to Aberdeen—articles urgently required but not sufficient to warrant the use of a naval storeship. The run was a short one—a little over 100 miles. It would give the crew a few hours ashore to see the sights of The Granite City.