"St. Pathrick and the rest of the Saints be prised, sorr!" exclaimed O'Shaunessey fervently. "Sure, 'tis a load off me mind, for 'tis me ould mother in Ballydonfin, County Wexford, that might be lamentin' for her only son."
"They haven't asked you to join the crew?"
"Bad luck be on their heads if they did, by Jabers!" ejaculated the Irishman. "Sure, I'm thrue to me salt."
"Ssh," muttered Hythe warningly, then in a louder tone he added, "Well, I am pleased to learn that you are being well looked after, O'Shaunessey. I'll look in again soon, and see how you are getting on."
On returning to the captain's cabin Hythe found that dinner was about to be served, and Captain Restronguet and Devoran, the chief officer, were in evening dress.
"I am sorry I had no opportunity of bringing my mess-jacket," said the sub, half-humorously, half-apologetically. "But you see I came on short notice."
"Don't let that trouble you, Mr. Hythe," replied Captain Restronguet. "As a matter of fact, we invariably make it a practice of dressing for dinner. It recalls old times, doesn't it, Devoran?"
"Rather," replied the chief officer. Hythe noticed that for the time being all traces of differences in rank were set aside. Captain Restronguet and Mr. Devoran were more like staunch friends than superior and subordinate officers; but on all other occasions the latter's attitude was strictly conformable to etiquette afloat.
The dinner passed pleasantly. The three men, by an unspoken yet mutual consent, studiously avoided "shop," their conversation dwelling on ordinary every-day topics. All the same Hythe could not help noticing how conversant they both were with the latest plays, books, and the events that afford interest to the Man-about-Town.
After dinner Devoran left the cabin. The captain busied himself with writing, while Hythe, selecting a book from a small library, and lighting a cigar, sought the comfort of an easy chair.