Although nearly every one was smoking there was hardly any sign of fumes. Overhead three electric fans were expelling the smoke, but how the vapour was ejected from the vessel Hythe could not imagine.
O'Shaunessey was sitting at a table, eagerly conversing with two of the crew. The Irishman's sense of humour appealed to his new comrades, and with an adaptability that contrasted forcibly with his belligerent attitude earlier in the day, O'Shaunessey was cracking jokes right and left.
As the young officer entered, the crew stood up--not with the alacrity of naval men, but all the same with a sense of respect towards their superiors in rank.
"Carry on, men," exclaimed Hythe, and crossing over to where O'Shaunessey stood he asked him how he fared.
"Sure, an' I've fallen on me fate this time, sorr," replied the Irishman with a grin. "They are feeding me up like O'Leary's pig, an' it's a drap o' the old cratur they serve out at eight bells, which is more to me loikin' than navy rum--after the steward's wathered it."
The men to whom O'Shaunessey had been talking smiled broadly at this, and considerately moved away so that the sub and the seaman could converse in private. Hythe was beginning to be afraid that the Irishman was too contented to make an effort to obtain his liberty should occasion arise; but lowering his voice O'Shaunessey continued,
"All the same, sorr, it's to be back aboard the 'Investigator' that I'm wanting. 'Ave you any idea wan they'll let us out o' this?"
"Not in the least, O'Shaunessey. Nevertheless we must try to get clear as soon as possible, unless I receive definite orders to the contrary."
"Definite orders to the contrary, sorr? From where, may Oi make so bold as to ask?"
In a few words the sub imparted the information that news of their presence within the submarine had been sent to the Admiralty.