"Ah," exclaimed the surgeon, drawing a long breath of delight as he looked out over the sparkling waters of the Yellow Sea, "I could almost wish to change places with you, Captain! This is delicious, after the atmosphere of the hospital, the sound of groans, the odour of antiseptics and anæsthetics! I do not wonder that you chose the navy for your calling."
"Well, well," said Oto, with his gentle laugh, "it does seem pleasant now, especially [here he bowed gracefully] in such exalted society. But come out on a cold, wet night in January, when a heavy sea is running, and you have to hang on to the rails of the twelve-pounder, here, to prevent yourself being carried off your feet; when the waves come pouring over the turtle-back and flood the upper deck; when you're soaked to the skin, and shivering, and thinking of—of [he glanced at Blossom] thousands on shore, snug and warm and fast asleep; when the blinding spray and sleet are lashing your face like whipcord, so you can hardly open your eyes to see the lights of the vessel you are watching ahead; and when everything down below in the wardroom is sliding about on the deck—well, I think a comfortable, dry room in the hospital would seem rather more attractive than the bridge of the Kushiro!"
The girls smiled at his eloquence, but O-Hana-San looked troubled, and her slim brown hand shook a little as she turned to accept her old friend's invitation to inspect the engine-room.
"I'm sorry," said Oto, "that we're going only two hundred and eighty revolutions now. You should see them at three hundred and fifty, with forced draft!"
The engine-room was hot and oily, and not even the fascinating sight of the bright steel rods flashing up and down and the cranks whirring at the rate of four revolutions a second—a mere mist of metal—could long detain the party. They were rather glad, it must be confessed, when a hail from the deck sent the commander flying up the ladder and the rest could follow, holding their garments carefully aloof from the glistening metal work.
On their reaching the deck a glorious sight met their gaze. About half a mile away was a war-ship, white as snow, coming toward them. The beautiful stars and stripes blew out over her taffrail, and a string of flags fluttered from her yard-arm. The signalman was just sending up an answer on the Kushiro.
"It is the United States gunboat Osprey," said Commander Oto, with unusual excitement in his voice, and a glow on his olive cheeks. "We have invited her commander to come on board, and he has graciously consented to do so, although his ship is of a larger class than mine, knowing that a Japanese officer is forbidden to leave his ship at sea, on any pretence, in war time. See, they are lowering a boat!"
The Kushiro had already stopped her engines, and the Osprey, which had slowed down several minutes before, now followed her example. The two vessels slowly approached each other until they were but a few hundred yards apart.
A boat was now seen leaving the American, and the destroyer's side was manned by jackies to receive the visitor with naval honours. In five minutes the boat was alongside, and Dave Rexdale sprang up the steps to the deck of the Kushiro. Oto was awaiting him, and with a smile that showed the flash of his dark eyes and white teeth, held out his hand to the American officer.
"Welcome, sir," he said, in good English. "I am glad to see you again, and on the deck of my own ship."