Just as Vernon was about to enter the post office, he nearly collided with a very sleepy-looking subaltern in the uniform of the Royal Garrison Artillery.
"By Jove, Barraclough!" he exclaimed. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Barraclough was an Upper Sixth man at the same school as Haye, but had left four terms previously. On the outbreak of war he had applied for, and had obtained, a commission, and had been stationed, somewhat to his disappointment, at Hurst Castle. Beyond a few false alarms and a liberal experience in target practice, his existence at that isolated fortress bordered on the monotonous. He was simply on thorns to be able to proceed to the Front; the probability was that he would have to "do his bit" for his country at a spot within 20 miles of his home until the termination of the war.
"Bless my soul, Haye!" he rejoined. "Whoever would have thought to see you here, and in naval get-up. How long have you been in the Service, and what ship are you on?"
"Only a few weeks; and I'm on the Capella with Trefusis."
"Trefusis, eh? Well, he's a lucky boy to have an Admiral for a father. And the Capella? Then you were in last night's affair? I heard they bagged the submarine."
"Rather!" declared Vernon proudly.
Barraclough stifled a prodigious yawn.
"Jolly glad to hear it. 'Scuse me, but I'm beastly tired. Had a night of it after those spies across yonder. Didn't turn in till three, and at six I had to cross from Hurst to Vic.—that's Fort Victoria, you know—on duty."
"Did you collar them?" asked the midshipman eagerly.