"Yes, sir," returned Mr. Desmond. "And what about our mine-sweepers?"
"Oh, they are all right!" the commander signified. "I've just counted them. I don't believe any of them was hit. Lucky for them that we turned up. She'd have sunk the lot."
"We've got one of the crew of the Dainty aboard of us, sir," the sub-lieutenant told him.
"Yes, I know," nodded the commander; "it's young Redisham. I sent him below for my binoculars. If you sight his ship, we'll put him back."
Mark stood up and saluted him as he came out into the hatchway.
"I hope I'm not very much in your way, sir," he faltered.
"Not at all," smiled Mr. Ingoldsby; "although we haven't much room to spare on a ship like this, as you can see. But don't stay here in the gangway. Come along with me. Mind you don't knock your head, and don't touch any of the switches."
He led the way through an intricate passage into the engine-room: an open space that could hardly be called a cabin, where men were at work with the electric motors. Here he paused to glance at a gauge.
"You've done very well, shipmates," he said, nodding his approval. "You've sent a German cruiser to the bottom—an old ship, it is true; but she'll do no more mine-laying mischief, and I'm just as pleased with you all as if she had been a Dreadnought. Jardine," he added, pushing open the door that gave entrance to his cabin. "Shaving water, and then breakfast."
CHAPTER IX.