Then it was all dark again. "Mind those steps; keep close to me; here we are," and the Sub took them along another cutting to the Naval Transport Officer's "dug-out".
They found this naval Captain there, washing the sand off his face.
"Two of our midshipmen, sir; the two we expected."
He turned round—a short, thick-set man with a bullet-shaped, closely cropped head—and he wiped the soap-suds off his mahogany-coloured face.
"All right; the Sub will show you where to go; glad to have you," and he waved them away.
They went back towards the Mess.
"You'll have to take charge of a picket-boat," the Sub told Bubbles; "and you, Orphan, will have to do odd jobs under me—all sorts of things: cleaning up the camp, fetching coal, any old thing. Ah! look out! here comes another!"
They heard the whistling swish of a shell, and then another glare, and another tremendous explosion burst, just the other side of the Naval Mess.
Instinctively they had thrown themselves down on the ground; something hurtled past and buried itself in the sand close by; and as they scrambled to their feet the Sub said angrily: "Confound them! Come along back to the Mess; you can have a wash in my basin, and then it will be time for dinner."
Two soldiers—a Major and a subaltern, the Military Landing Officers—a R.N.R. lieutenant, and two R.N.R. sub-lieutenants came in at odd times for dinner. The Sub hurried through his meal, put on a thick coat, and warmed himself in front of the fire before going down to the beach.