Simultaneously the waiter whisked off the cover, and on the dish reposed a naval officer's cocked hat.
A roar of hearty laughter greeted its appearance. Thompson, Fielding, Cardyke, and one or two others looked grave, wondering how Drake would take it; but to their relief the victim of the practical joke, flushing slightly under his bronzed skin, rose to his feet, and, with a reassuring smile, raised his hand to command silence.
"Gentlemen," he began, "I will not attempt a speech. If I did I should say what I didn't mean to say, and leave unsaid what I meant to say. But I see you have not forgotten to remind me of that little failing of mine on the occasion of the match which this gathering is celebrating in its customary manner. It will not be said that a Drake is not a man of his word. I promised to eat my hat; I will do so. Will you kindly pass the article round to show that there is no deception?"
The practical jokers began to look unduly anxious. They never expected Drake would have taken the matter so calmly. Perhaps he had been warned, and had prepared a counter-plot? He had. Producing a small parcel, Drake cut the string, and unwrapped the paper. Within was a small replica of a lieutenant's cocked hat, faithfully executed in confectionery. Inside were written the words, "My hat!"
Having passed the edible model round for inspection, Drake, amid the applause of his comrades, gravely proceeded to eat it.
As soon as Drake had completed his meal, Thompson stood up.
"Gentlemen!" he exclaimed. "I think it only right that we should signify our satisfaction at the way in which a Drake keeps his word, by giving him a little certificate of his—er—his conduct. Allow me, sir, to present you with this."
And leaning over the table Thompson handed the newly appointed commander the momentous telegram.
Drake took it, hesitatingly, as if suspecting another joke at his expense, looked at it casually, then again intently.
He tried to speak, but no words came from his agitated lips. He sat down.