Long before the smoke of the destroyer flotilla blurred the clean line of the horizon, it was known in Haddisport that H.M.S. Atreus had been sunk by a floating mine. Among the first of the townspeople to hear the news was Darby Catchpole.
Darby had come ashore from the Mignonette, and had hastened to the naval signal station at the end of the pier to report what he personally knew of the mine-layer. His Sea Scout's uniform gave him a passport, and he entered the pavilion, undeterred by the armed bluejacket on guard at the door.
He found himself in a large room, in which were several officers and seamen. The officers were discussing a wireless message received from Captain Damant. He heard one of them transmitting the message by telephone. Another was working at the telegraph instrument. From an inner room came the busy clicking of a typewriter.
An officer whom he knew by sight as Lieutenant Ingoldsby, commander of a submarine, came up to him, and Darby told him of the loss of the What's Wanted, adding that another steam trawler, the Pied Piper, had met a similar fate, with the loss of all hands.
"I suppose the fishing will be stopped, won't it, sir?" Darby ventured anxiously. His father was an owner of several trawlers, and he foresaw the possibility of ruin.
"Not necessarily," the officer assured him. "We shall soon clear the sea of mines. If you are not otherwise on duty, you can be useful here."
Darby's eyes brightened.
"I'm ready now, sir, this minute, to do anything I can," he said.
"Good!" Lieutenant Ingoldsby nodded approval of this prompt willingness. "Go into the farther room, there. They'll tell you what to do."
Darby entered the tiny, sunlit room, from which he had heard the clicking of the typewriter. Two bluejackets stood between him and the table. One of them moved aside.