"You've got your D.S.C., old Hun; so don't worry," the Orphan consoled him. "I only wish that I could get it!"
CHAPTER XXI
The Evacuation of Suvla Bay
In a little wooden hut, perched on a mound just above the landing-places at Kephalo, lived two naval Captains—the Fierce One and the Not So Fierce One.
Bubbles, the Orphan, and eight other snotties, with their picket-boats, found themselves handed over to the anything but tender mercies of the Fierce One; and the morning after Rawlins and the Lamp-post had raced their "water-beetles" (or thought they had raced them) across to Suvla, these ten gathered, expectantly, outside this wooden hut, and waited whilst the Captains finished their breakfast and smoked their pipes.
All these ten midshipmen were dressed in some sort of khaki except the two Lord Nelsons, who wore ordinary blue uniform, and grinned and nudged each other as though they shared some secret joke which they couldn't possibly divulge.
Presently the Fierce One came out, and they all stiffened to attention. He gave a preliminary roar—just to clear his throat and make way for what was coming—rapidly casting his eye over them. "Who's the senior snotty here? Why the—the—the—don't you report to me?"
The ten had never thought of that. They muttered, and looked at each other, and at last the very microscopic Lord Nelson's midshipman (known generally as the Cheese-mite) nervously reported: "All midshipmen present, sir."
"What's your name?" he growled.
"The Cheese-m—— Morrison, I mean, sir."