"I won't say that," replied the other. His wrath was fast evaporating. He was beginning to realise that, after all, cooperation was the thing, and that rivalry, except of the healthy order, was detrimental to the great work in hand. "When all's said and done, it's something to think that we took you in. At first I thought you were a Fritz: your get-up was so good. But I say, isn't your name Morpeth—Geordie Morpeth?"
"I have a notion that you've hit the right nail on the head," replied the skipper Of Q 171. "But I'm dashed if I can call your face to mind!"
"Met you in Rio in January '12," announced the other, with a typical sailorman's memory for dates. "You were in the Humming-Bird. I was on the Glaucis, second mate at the time."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Morpeth, "you're Bellairs. I didn't recognise you; you've altered some."
"Hardly recognise myself at times," remarked Bellairs. "If you want to age rapidly, try a trick in a Q-boat. I see you're trying it already. Well, I must be pushing along. I'm making for Newcastle, after three weeks off the Lofoden Islands. Fritz was pretty busy in Norwegian waters, but I guess he's put up his shutters for a time at least. We've driven a few nails into his coffin."
"Left one or two for me, I hope?" remarked Morpeth. "But look here, can you give a passage to a few hands?"
"A few," agreed Bellairs guardedly. "How many?"
Morpeth told him.
"I've also two officers on board," he added. "They wish to stay and have a rest cure. I'm doing my best to educate 'em at the same time."
The other R.N.R. man laughed. "Right-o!" he exclaimed. "If you educate 'em like you did the youngsters on the Humming-Bird I can see them writing home to mother about you."