Deftly Jack passed a bight round his friend's body just below the arms, and like a sack of flour Gerald was hoisted upwards. This much Tregarthen remembered, though but dimly, and on gaining the deck he lost consciousness.
When the young sub-lieutenant opened his eyes he found himself lying in the uppermost of two bunks in a small yet conveniently arranged cabin.
"Where the dickens am I?" he murmured, drowsily.
He sat up, and at once discovered that the pyjama suit he was wearing was not his own; then he became aware that his head was throbbing painfully, and on raising his hand to the aching place his fingers encountered a strip of plaster.
Then the details of the collision flashed across his mind, and the anxious question rose to his lips: "Where's Jack?"
Steadying himself by grasping the rounded edge of the bunk, Gerald leant sideways. The effort nearly caused him to lose his balance, but the result of his investigations showed that the lower bunk was unoccupied.
For the space of quite five minutes the injured officer lay still, striving to collect his thoughts as to where and when he last saw his late companion.
Above the centre of the top bunk was an open scuttle, through which the salt-laden breeze whistled like a youthful whirlwind. From where he lay Tregarthen could see that the thickness of the vessel's side at this opening was at least 7ins.—a truly enormous size for the plating of any but a powerful war vessel, and even then it was unusual to continue the armoured belt so far above the water-line.
Curiosity prompted the sub-lieutenant to essay another change of position. This time he met with better success, and was able to look through the narrow, circular aperture.