By five o'clock the Achates was once more out of sight, and the trawler was steaming towards Cape Helles with the remnants of last night's gale on her starboard beam. The two midshipmen both wore once again the khaki which the Fierce One had forbidden, the same clothes they had worn when they left "W" beach at the end of May, six months and a half ago; and they felt supremely happy, crouching in the lee of the trawler's galley, and watching the island of Kephalo gradually fading out of sight till darkness hid it altogether.
At half-past six the trawler ran alongside a sunken steamer—the outer hulk of Pier No. 1; a steamboat came for them, and landed them and their gear at No. 3 Pier—the pier they had watched being commenced by the Sappers the very day of the landing. By the light of a single lantern they found the Pier-master—a Sub-lieutenant, R.N.R.—and were ordered to report themselves to the Naval Transport Officer.
"You'd better go up to the Mess," the R.N.R. Sub told them. "You'll probably find him up there."
He gave them two men to carry their gear, and with "Kaiser Bill" under the Orphan's arm they stumbled along the pier in the dark till their feet scrunched into the sand on "W" beach.
"What a time since we were here!" Bubbles blurted out; and: "Isn't it grand to get back again?" the Orphan chuckled.
There were no flares now, the shore was absolutely dark.
They started off along the beach towards where the main gully road used to be; but everything had so changed, and it was so dark, that they soon had to let the two seamen with their bundles lead the way—off that beach, up a broad, firm road, turning to the left along a narrow path, then down some wooden steps, and so to a dark "cutting" in the side of the slope, at the end of which a glow of light showed through half-opened folding-doors.
"Here's the Officers' Mess, sir. Glad to see you on shore, sir," said one of the seamen; and the Orphan recognized Plunky Bill's voice.
"Hello! You here? How are things going?"
"Pretty quiet, sir; nothing much doing."