Hoarsely Eph Somers bellowed back:
"Nothing doing!"
CHAPTER III
THE MAN WHO MARKED CHARTS
It was a little before midnight when the "Spitfire" came to anchor in Craven's Bay, after having been piloted to anchorage by a quartermaster's tug that put off from Fort Craven on signal.
"Fine place, if your searchlight is keen enough," yawned Eph, gazing off into the darkness.
Eph and Williamson had slept through the evening, after supper, and were now to take the night watch tricks, the machinist's deck watch beginning at once and lasting until four in the morning.
About an hour after daylight, Eph Somers deserted the deck, except for occasional intervals. After a while the odor of coffee and steak was in the air. Then, snatching up a bugle, Somers sounded the reveille tumultuously through the small cabin of the submarine torpedo boat.
Not long did the other members of the crew take to turn out and dress. They came out into the cabin to find Eph trotting between table and galley, putting things on the table.
"This seems like old times," chuckled Williamson, as he seated himself with the boys.