"It's time for you to shove off, Mr. M'Andrew," the Captain sang out. "Good luck to you!"
The motor-yacht let go her ropes; there was a smell of petrol, and a tut-tut-tut from her stern, and off she went in the dark.
"That there old 'umbug ain't come back yet," Jarvis told the Sub. But just as he was about to send a "hand" to look for him, Fletcher came climbing down.
"Very sorry, sir, but I can't find 'Kaiser Bill' anywhere. The picnic must have made him so giddy that he's started climbing over the boat deck."
"Bad luck, Fletcher!" the Sub said sympathetically.
"Well, he did seem a bit of a mascot—as the saying goes."
"The old 'umbug!" snorted Jarvis. "'E ain't no blooming mascot."
"Well, off you go! Good luck!" called the Captain.
"Shove off for'ard!" cried the Sub.
The Orphan rang "ahead" to the engine-room, and the picket-boat followed the motor-yacht out through the narrow, very dark channel into the open sea. The two boats then changed places, the picket-boat leading and the motor-yacht following, because Mr. M'Andrew's compass could not be trusted. This was the first time that the Orphan had ever had a twenty-mile "run" in a picket-boat before him, and, with no lights showing (except the tiny little glow in the compass-box), on such a dark night it was rather eerie work.