"The ass jumped on to the top of the conning-tower—got an arm round the periscope tube, and began banging away at the periscope with a hammer!" the Navigator was shouting as the Orphan came up. (Bubbles threw his head back and roared.) "He'd only got in a few whacks when the old submarine began to dive; down went the conning-tower and the periscope, and the last that was seen of him was a hand and a hammer giving one last whack!"
Bubbles choked and snorted with laughter.
"What was it—a German submarine—was he drowned—did they catch the submarine?" the Orphan asked.
"Yes, they did. It had been badly hit before. We swept for it, and found it three days later, and the brave ass was still clinging to the periscope tube with his feet twisted round the conning-tower rail."
"Who was he?" gasped Bubbles when he could stop laughing.
"No one in particular, only the deck hand of a trawler," the Navigator said, in his cynical way.
Mr. Meredith, the officer of the watch, a tall, good-looking Naval Reserve lieutenant with a weather-beaten face, and rather bald-headed, came up. "It's five bells, you fellows. How about some cocoa? I've got a tin of gingerbreads."
"That's the ticket, old chap!" the Navigator cried, and Bubbles was sent off to make the cocoa and bring it up to the chart-house.
Ten minutes later, the cheery chart-house was filled with the fragrant odour of cocoa, the Navigator's charts had been rolled aside; two were sitting on the table, the other on the settee which was the Navigator's bed at sea, all with steaming cups of cocoa in their hands.
"Where's the 'War Baby'? Go and fetch the War Baby," the Navigator shouted; so off Bubbles went, the light going out as the door slid back, and coming on again as it closed and "made" the electric circuit.