"It was," assented Huxtable gravely. "We spotted the Kondor yesterday and kept her under observation."
"Then you bagged that Hun battleship?" enquired Sefton.
"No, worse luck," replied the lieutenant-commander of E--. "She altered helm just as we were having a shot at her, and some other fellows did the trick. Mustn't complain, though. We are all members of the same co-operative society in the trade. The Kondor's crew? A few hours in the boats won't hurt them, and I'll wireless our destroyers. They are too villainous a crew to slip out of our hands. Come below, old man, and we'll rig the pair of you out in dry kit. With luck, you ought to be in Pompey again within twenty-four hours."
————
Pacing the diminutive quarter-deck of H.M.T.B.D. Boanerges, as she swung to the first of the flood-tide, were two naval officers. It was too dark to distinguish their features, even in the red glow of their cigarettes.
Three months had elapsed since the desperate struggle on Blackstone Edge. The Boanerges, a brand-new destroyer recently delivered from the Clyde, had just commissioned at Portsmouth for service with the Grand Fleet.
"My dear Boxspanner," remarked the taller of the twain, "I've come to the conclusion that life ashore isn't worth the candle. In common parlance, I'm fed up. The last straw is the abominable petrol tax. Just fancy, the blighters allow me two gallons a month----"
"You weren't on leave for more than three weeks, Pills," interrupted the engineer-lieutenant.
"Just so; that's the rub. I could have done with a three months' allowance, and used the lot in a week. By the way, talking of that new carburetter----"
"Boat ahoy!" came a hoarse hail from the fo'c'sle as the lynx-eyed look-out detected a dark object approaching under oars towards the destroyer.