"I've seen the Adjutant," he announced. "You'll have to take those boats across to Bumble Creek. They'll be in the way of our flying-boats if they stay there."
Derek felt inclined to use forcible language; to enquire pointedly why these instructions could not have been given him before the elaborate process of mooring the boats had commenced. To be ordered at the end of a strenuous day's work to undertake another hour's toil was a tough proposition for the cold and hungry men to tackle.
"I'll send the duty-boat to pilot you," continued the O.W. "She'll bring you back to the station." Thankful for small mercies Derek turned his men to. It required fifteen minutes of hard work to unmoor and get under way. Fortunately the duty-boat was standing by, for the run across to Bumble Creek meant crossing an arm of the sea that was constantly alive with traffic.
Once more the two boats were secured for the night, this time alongside a hulk. It was pitch dark when Derek and his men returned to Wagshot Air Station.
Having seen his men installed in their temporary quarters and provided with a hot meal, Derek made his way to the officers' mess. Instead of a bright, cheerful building like that at Sableridge, he was directed to a large hut, which was divided into two large rooms and a few smaller ones.
"There's the ward-room, sir," replied a girl in the uniform of the W.R.N.S. "The steward will arrange for dinner and quarters."
The ward-room was a wood-lined but devoid of almost every comfort. Floor and walls were bare, except, in the case of the walls, for a few technical prints of sea-planes and flying-boats. In one corner was a table piled high with leather coats, helmets, gloves, and other garments affected by airmen. A fire burned dully in a large grate, round which were seated, shoulder to shoulder, half a dozen young "quirks".
They greeted Daventry with supercilious glances; then, having surveyed him in stony silence, they resumed their conversation in loud tones, apparently with the idea of impressing the new arrival with their importance and familiarity with life in town.
"Cubs—utter outsiders," thought Derek. "And what a bear-garden this mess is."
Chilled both mentally and physically, Daventry went out, preferring to pace the bleak parade-ground until dinner was served to remaining in such inhospitable company.