Derek had to confess that up to the present there was nothing definite. No decided information was forthcoming from the Air Ministry, although the air was thick with rumours.
"I'd go in for flying again if the Medical Board passed me," he added. "Failing that, I'd like to continue in the Marine Branch. It's a weird and fairly exciting existence, and every day I like it more and more."
"Thought so," rejoined his father laconically; "it's the adage: 'What's bred in the bone,' &c. With generations of sea-faring ancestors, Derek, you can't get away from the fact that you've an innate desire for the sea. Flying was only a sort of stop-gap—necessary, no doubt, but it's not the rock-bottom of an Englishman's constitution, so to speak. The sea made Britain what it is to-day, and the sea will continue to do so, unless the country allows her maritime supremacy to pass into the hands of others. To return to a personal view—I mentioned the matter before, I believe—you'll be able to go to sea till you're well over middle age, but it's an obvious certainty that you won't be flying at that time of life."
"You don't seem very sanguine over the future of aviation, Pater."
"I hardly like to express an opinion, Derek; but when comparing a ship with an aeroplane you must remember that the former is in its natural element. Given a seaworthy craft ably managed, a ship is as safe as a house. Even if the engines break down the vessel floats. But take an aircraft. If anything happens to it, it is not in its natural element. It must descend."
"A heavier-than-air machine, you mean."
"Precisely. And take the case of an airship. Its vulnerability to fire is a great drawback, while I doubt its ability to ride out a gale. A ship has a grip upon the water; an airship, if disabled, is simply at the mercy of the winds."
"And that is where we—the marine section—come in," added Derek. "Once the authorities realize that, our future is assured."
The eleven days passed only too quickly, and almost before he realized that his leave would expire that night Derek found himself packing his kit-bag and haversack.
It was eleven o'clock when he arrived at Fisherton Station, and nearly midnight by the time he reached Sableridge depot. All the rest of the occupants of the officers' quarters were in bed; there was no supper left out for him, and the ante-room fire had died down. Without it was blowing a gale from the south-east, and raining heavily. The spray was dashing against the windows, while above the howling of the wind could be heard the continuous roar of the surf upon the Dairymaid Sands.