"I was going to take him ashore myself," answered the Lieutenant.
"Oh, then, that's all right."
The two men shook hands, and Lawless returned to Smythe, who was waiting for him at the gangway.
"All serene," he said, thrusting five one pound notes into the man's hand. "Now we'd better get ashore."
They were landed at the Great Western jetty, and Smythe told Lawless he wanted to catch the first train to London. At Millbay Station they shook hands and said "Good-bye," after which the Lieutenant went on to Devonport to report himself.
On the following morning, when he was preparing to depart for Dundee, a telegram arrived ordering him to proceed to the Admiralty. He reached London in the afternoon, and duly presented himself at the particular room mentioned in his instructions. On entering he found a group of officers seated at a table in a manner unpleasantly reminiscent of a court-martial.
He was asked for and gave a brief account of his adventures after flying to the assistance of the Nimrod, and then one of the officers handed him a photograph.
"Do you recognise this person?" he asked.
"Why, yes," replied the Lieutenant. "It's the man named Smythe, whom I found unconscious in his bunk."
The officers exchanged significant glances, and the one who had produced the photograph turned once more to the Lieutenant.