"He may turn up again, old man," said Webb consolingly. "Just as likely as not he was left on board the torpedo-boat. If so, the destroyer's people will look after him until we get in touch with her."
"I wish I could share your opinion, Tom," replied Osborne. "But I can't see how that could possibly happen. Laddie wouldn't remain on board when I left. No, I'm afraid he's gone for good; and it's the horrible uncertainty of his fate that makes matters worse."
Captain M'Bride, too, was profuse in his sympathy.
"Of course, Osborne," he remarked, "I can't very well send out a general wireless asking if one of our destroyers has picked up a dog. I'd possibly get rapped over the knuckles by the Admiral for my pains. But I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll write a private letter to a chum of mine at Lemnos—he's the skipper of the Tarbox—and ask him to institute enquiries. I'm rather inclined to favour Mr. Webb's theory, you know."
"Thanks, sir," replied Osborne. "It would be——"
"Aeroplane on our port quarter, sir," shouted one of the look-out men.
The three officers hastened to the bridge, where the officer of the watch had already brought his telescope to bear upon the approaching air-craft.
"A Johnny Turk, sir," reported the watchkeeper. "There are crescents on her planes."
A bugle blared "Action Stations". The two anti-aircraft guns were manned, while the quick-firers were trained to their extreme elevation in the hope that the oncoming aerial foe would still be a sufficient distance from the ship to enable the weapons to be brought to bear upon the swiftly-moving target.
Already it was too late for the ordinary quick-firers to be of service. The "anti's" alone had to be employed to fire at the Turkish aeroplane. Should the latter elect to rise to a great altitude the comparatively feeble weapons would be of little use. On the other hand, the higher the aeroplane rose the greater difficulty there would be of hitting a moving target like the Portchester Castle.