“You see I was right about his asking you up on the bridge, Jack. What sort of luck did you have?” demanded Amos, when his chum joined him on deck.
“Good enough in some ways, though he couldn’t tell me positively whether there would be an aviation camp ashore,” Jack replied. “He did mention one on an island quite some ways off, where the injured war vessels are taken for temporary repairs. I made up my mind that since we had the chance we’d better go ashore first. If it turns out that there are no aeroplane pilots in camp we can find a way to come back again; and he says he’ll see we get to the island all right.”
“I felt it in my bones you could get nearly anything you wanted out of the Vice-Admiral,” boasted Amos.
“As far as that goes,” the other told him, “I rather believe it was the paper we carry, signed by Kitchener, that did the trick. Every British officer on sea or land we’ve let look at that signature has acted as if he couldn’t do too much for the boys K. of K. wanted to help.”
“But how about getting ashore, and when can we go, Jack?”
“Here’s the way it stands,” came the reply. “Some time late tonight, after twelve, he said, there will come up a dispatch boat that is expected to run over to the peninsula, and make a landing, carrying orders, and other things, too.”
“And we can go aboard that, can we?” questioned Amos.
“Yes, the kind Vice-Admiral will have it all arranged for us. He also means to give us a document that will help us when we want to leave the peninsula again, no matter whether we’ve found Frank or not.”
“Good for him, Jack. One of the best things we seem to run up against is this finding a friend when in need. It’s all cut and dried now, then, and we can count on getting ashore before morning breaks.”
“Barring accidents, Amos.”