CHAPTER II
THE INTERRUPTED MATCH
The Frome came alongside the Fountain Lake Jetty, and her commander repaired to the commander-in-chief's office to make his report as to why the night gunnery exercises had not been carried out. To the relief of everyone on board the destroyer it was decided that the night-firing was to be postponed until after the little craft's refit, and in the interval the Frome was to lie alongside the jetty until her consort, the Blackadder, came out of No. 3 Dock.
"That's good!" ejaculated Fielding, as the officers went to dinner in the diminutive, cosy wardroom. "We'll have time to put in a few hours' practice at the nets. Have you seen the list of our team yet, Cardyke?"
"Thompson's sending out the names tomorrow. I know that we are in the team; Simpson gave me the cue," replied the midshipman. "The practice-nets will be available at ten o'clock to-morrow morning. I suppose we may go, sir?"
"Of course," assented Drake, good-naturedly. "The gunner will be in charge up to eight bells."
The four officers—for the engineer-lieutenant formed one of the party—fell to discussing everyday topics. "Shop" was rigidly tabooed in the Frome's wardroom unless absolutely necessary for Service reasons.
The following day, Thursday, passed almost without incident. Fielding and Cardyke put in a good morning's work at the practice-nets in the United Services ground; while Drake went ashore in the afternoon for a motor-drive.
Friday dawned bright and clear, with every prospect of a blazing hot day. Shortly after breakfast a newsboy brought off the daily papers to the ship, and for the next half-hour the officers "stood easy."
"By Jove! They think that something's happened to the old Impregnable," exclaimed Paul Fielding. "She ought to have turned up at the mouth of the Scheldt yesterday morning, and nothing has been seen or heard of her."