"Hallo, Tom!" he exclaimed. "What do you think of the Bay, eh?"
The speaker was Lieutenant Jack Osborne, R.N.R., for the time being officer of the watch. He, too, had good reason to be thankful for his early training as a Sea Scout on the yacht Petrel. The outbreak of war found him at Shanghai—a Third Officer on one of the liners of the Royal British and Pacific Steamship Company's fleet. Within two hours of the receipt of the mobilization telegram, Osborne was on board a vessel bound for Vancouver, en route for home by the Canadian Pacific. Twelve months' sea service procured him his promotion as lieutenant, R.N.R., and when the Portchester Castle was commissioned he found that one of his brother officers was his former Sea Scout chum, Tom Webb.
"An improvement on the North Sea in winter," replied Webb optimistically. "And it will be a jolly sight warmer when we get to the Mediterranean."
"You haven't been abroad before?" asked Osborne.
"Strictly speaking—no," replied the Sub. "I've been within sight of Iceland a few times, and don't want to see it again; but I have never set foot ashore. You remember—— Hallo! What's that?"
He gave an involuntary start as something gripped his left hand with a gentle yet firm hold.
Osborne smiled.
"You're a bit jumpy," he said. "Come, this won't do; it's only Laddie. He's always with me on the bridge, you know."
"Hope he hasn't mistaken my hand for a piece of raw beef-steak," remarked Webb, disengaging his hand from the jaws of a large dog. "I'm not afraid of dogs, you know, Osborne, but for the moment I wondered what was up."
"Only his way of showing friendliness," explained the Lieutenant. "I've had him on board ever since he was a pup. He's only fourteen months old now."