No, there were more than three--four, five, or six, maybe, but he could
not say.
Asked as to the events just previous to the arrival of the squadron, he
did not know much. Some two or three ships had been captured lately, no
big ones, and the _Hong Lu_ had come in the same day as the destroyers,
only early in the morning, from the south, he knew, for a friend of his
was aboard her and had told him.
She had brought two white men with her.
"Could he describe them?"
He pretended to limp. Evidently one was Hamilton, the lame Englishman,
and the other, from his description, might have been Hopkins.
"Are there any white men prisoners on the island?" It was Cummins who
asked this, and he, in fact, had asked most of the questions since he
had come down to the cabin, Captain Helston almost unconsciously giving
way to him.
"No prisoners, only engineers and soldiers. One white man in charge of
the forts, two others in charge of all the ships' engines.
"They keep no white men prisoners. If they find one aboard a captured
steamer they send him to the mainland in a junk."
"Are there any white women on the island?"
"No. Once there were two, but he thinks the white men began to quarrel
amongst themselves, so they sent them away very quickly."
"No chance of winning a wife here, sir," added Cummins, chuckling.
"I'm not so certain about that," replied Helston, the hard lines on his
careworn face softening.
"Still thinking of that little minx Milly," growled Dr. Fox to himself.
Cummins then showed the prisoner a rough plan of the island, copied from
Ping Sang's original chart, and, after A Tsi had explained it, the
Chinaman roughly indicated the position of the forts, go-downs
(warehouses), the white mens' houses, the anchorage of the men-of-war
and the captured merchant ships.
"I think that we have obtained all we want to know from this man,"
Helston concluded. "Except about the amount of food on the island, he
does not seem to know much. Does anyone want to ask him any further
questions?"
Cummins wanted to know what stock of coal there was on the island.
As far as the man knew, there were enormous stacks of it on shore, and
several ships laden with coal.
"Does any ship ever leave the harbour by the small channel at the back
of the island?"
"Only small steam-boats and junks," the prisoner said.
"I've nothing more to ask him," said Cummins, so the man was marched
away and given a cigar to smoke as a reward.
"We shall not starve them out, sir," was Cummins's only comment.
Helston shrugged his shoulders.
The second man was brought in, a cunning-looking rascal with unshaven
head, his repulsive face made still more hideous by several scars. More
scars were visible on his sunken-in chest, and altogether he was a most
disagreeable-looking specimen of the human race.
He talked more freely than the other man, and told his story very
volubly.
He had been a "boss" workman in the engine works at the Foochow Arsenal,
and had been recruited with many others by the German Schmidt, and
shipped to Hong Lu without any knowledge of the character of the
employment.
"Does he complain?"
"Oh no, rather not!" He was paid well, spent nothing except a little on
tobacco, and had not much work to do. After working for some months on
board the merchant steamers, he was put in charge of the engines of the
ill-fated torpedo-boat, and that was why he was aboard her that night.
"What did he do aboard the merchant ships?"
He seemed to have been a leading hand of shipwrights, and had had many
men under his orders. He quite warmed to the subject, and told of all
the jobs he had done for the last six months.
He had lengthened the funnel of one steamer, added a fo'c'stle to
another, altered the bows of a third, and the masts of a fourth.
"My aunt!" chuckled Cummins, as A Tsi interpreted this, "I see now how
these people make their fortune. They capture a steamer, bring her in
here, alter her so that her own builders would not recognize her, and
then take her down to some quiet port on the mainland and sell her. Ask
him, A Tsi, if that is so."
Yes, that was so; and the Chinaman looked surprised at their ignorance.
The syndicate, it appeared from what he said, had constructed a
ship-repairing yard, and kept it most of the time working at high
pressure. Sometimes they kept a ship as long as six months, but
whenever a ship did leave, no one could possibly recognize her as the
one which had been brought in.
On all other points this prisoner corroborated the first, and dotted
down on another rough plan of the island the positions of the forts,
ships, &c., very much as he had done it.
As to food and coal, they had enough to last "many moons".
"Mountains of coal" was his description.
Asked by Cummins why the other torpedo-boats had not come out, he
promptly replied that their engines were unfit for any speed, and that
their crews were probably frightened.
Directly Ping Sang heard the man's statement about reconstructing
steamers captured and altering their appearance, he went away to his
cabin, and returned carrying some papers.
At the first opportunity he asked the prisoner, speaking in Chinese, and
with very unusual excitement, if ever he remembered the capture of a
ship named the _Fi Ting_.
He remembered her quite well; had worked aboard her. "She had one funnel
and three masts ('Yes,' nodded Ping Sang), and they built a covered-in
fo'c'stle, took out one mast, and shortened the other two."
"Yes, yes," nodded Ping Sang excitedly; "anything else?"
"We altered the bridge, built it ten or twelve feet farther forward, and
put up several cabins between it and the funnel."
"You did! you did! And what name did you give her?" shrieked Ping Sang.
The man thought a little and shook his head, evidently in some fear of
the fat little merchant.
"He won't say, sir; says that he cannot remember; he only did what he
was told; it was not his fault," said A Tsi, to whom the man had turned.
Another flow of language came from Ping Sang, before which the wretched
Chinaman flinched, and eventually he gave the name _Ling Lu Ming_.
"I knew it! I knew it!" roared Ping Sang, rolling from side to side,
and getting red in the face with indignation, which just as suddenly
turned to a broad smile, and with a twinkle of his eyes he told Captain
Helston that he had bought the _Fi Ting_ for L150,000, lost her six
months later, and then bought the _Ping Lu Ming_ cheaply for L120,000 in
Amoy.
"I always suspected she was the same," he added cheerfully.
It was one of the amusing characteristics of this little man that his
wrath always vanished as quickly as it grew, and was followed by envy of
the "cuteness" which had got the better of him, and he bore not the
least malice, only looking forward to a future opportunity of "squaring
the account".
The prisoner, seeing Ping Sang's benign, amused expression, took courage
and ventured a smile too--a cunning, treacherous enough smile; but it
quickly died away, and the colour fled from his yellow skin, for Ping
Sang, catching sight of it, jumped from his chair, and shaking a fat
little finger at him, let flow a torrent of words which left him
speechless with anger, only to recover his usual urbanity a moment later
when Captain Helston asked him what he had said.
"Nothing, nothing, Captain; only assured him that I would have his liver
torn out and make him eat it if he did not stop grinning."
He meant it, too, for, if half the stories which were told of Ping Sang
were to be credited, although he was as gentle as possible under the
British flag, yet woe to anyone who crossed his path when not under that
protection.
At this moment the signal midshipman came running down from the bridge
in a state of great excitement, and reported smoke on the horizon coming
from the south-east.
The prisoners were sent away, and everyone immediately went on deck.
On deck all was animation. It was about half-past four--the men's
supper-hour--all being below except the watch-keepers; but directly the
word had flown round the mess-decks that a steamer had been sighted,
every man Jack poured up to see and hear news of the approaching
stranger.
Already signals had been made to "No. 2" to steam to meet her, and
leisurely she gathered way, though by the little puffs of black smoke
that came from her funnels quickly, one after another, one knew that her
stokers were shovelling coal on her furnace gratings for all they were
worth.
Gradually the column of smoke mounted up over the horizon, and from the
foremast-head a sharp-eyed signalman sang out that she was a man-of-war
with fighting-tops, and was making straight for the island.
If she was a man-of-war she might be yet another of the pirate ships,
and there was the welcome chance of a "scrap"; but even if this did not
turn out to be true, there was something else almost as welcome: she
might bring a mail, and it is only those who "go down to the sea in
ships" who know what that means.
Then "No. 2" began to signal, and the yeoman of signals, saluting,
reported to Captain Helston "The _Undaunted_, sir!" (The _Undaunted_
was one of the armoured cruisers of the British China Squadron.)
"Can't capture her, I suppose?" suggested Ping Sang, with a smile.
"She may be coming up here to capture us, though," answered Helston,
looking worried. "The Admiral would hardly have sent her out of her way
unless he had important communications to make. I trust sincerely that
she brings no bad news."
"Cheer up, old croaker!" said Dr. Fox; "we'll get some mails at any
rate."
By this time the naked eye could easily identify her white side and
yellow funnels and cowls glistening in the setting sun, and the white
ensign flying at her gaff, as fair a sight as any British naval man ever
wants to see.
"No. 2" was following her towards the squadron, looking like some
disreputable little terrier keeping a respectful distance from a stately
St. Bernard. More signals flew backward and forward, presently the
semaphores began to jerk their arms up and down, and the _Undaunted_
slowed as she came abreast the _Laird_, and stopped her engines.
"Away first cutter! Away galley!" yelled the bos'n's mate, and rapidly
these boats were lowered, and in a couple of minutes Captain Helston was
being pulled across to the _Undaunted_ by six strong pairs of arms,
whilst the cutter, with that signal flying from the _Undaunted_, "Send
boat for mails", was not much behind-hand. In half an hour both boats
were back again, and the bulky mail-bags hauled aboard by willing hands.
Then letters for home, already written and only waiting for closing up,
were sent across, and the _Undaunted_ slowly began to move away.
As she steadied on her course her crew "manned and cheered ship", three
ringing cheers coming across the water, and one cheer more for luck.
The _Laird's_ were not slow to answer, and the crew ran aloft, crowded
along the port side, and, taking time from little Cummins, who, with his
cap in his hand, yelled as best he could with a toothpick in his mouth,
sent back cheer for cheer.
The _Strong Arm_ sent her cheers, too, and the _Sylvia_, "No. 2", and
"No. 3" joined in with their more feeble shouts.
Down they poured out of the rigging, eager to get their mail, which the
Master-at-Arms was already distributing, the _Undaunted_ slipped away on
her errand to the north (a mission-house had been burnt down somewhere
or other, somebody or other had to suffer for the deed, and she was away
to see that somebody or other did suffer for it), and the little
squadron was left alone again with its pirate island--a lonely-looking
island and a rather lonely little squadron after its fleeting glimpse of
its own white ensign, reading its letters from home in the failing
daylight, with a job to do which seemed too big for it.
As Dr. Fox rather vulgarly expressed it to Helston, "You've bitten off a
bigger piece than you can chew, old chap."
"Well, perhaps so, Fox; we'll see."
Captain Helston's letters--his official ones, at any rate--were
certainly a worry to him. He had hardly finished reading them when
sunset was reported, and up he had to go to superintend the scattering
of the squadron for the night, and to make the rendezvous for the early
morning.
He came down to dinner, but let it go untouched.
"Come up on deck, Fox, and get some exercise on the quarter-deck," he
said at length. "I want a yarn with you." (Dr. Fox usually dined with
him.)
"Never take a man away from his food to tell him bad news," growled the
Doctor, after they had paced the quarter-deck twenty times without
saying a word. "Let me know the worst."
"My arm's hurting me, Doc. Can't you ease it?" exclaimed Helston in his
most worried expression of voice.
"Well, well, stay still, and I'll just rearrange it, old chap. Now,
that's more comfortable, eh? Hand a bit too low; blood too much in the
fingers, eh? Have it in the sleeve in another week. Feel better now?"
And Dr. Fox made him more comfortable, speaking as if his patient were a
little petulant child. "Now, tell me all about it."
"It comes to this," began Helston, wheeling round and rapidly walking up
and down. "The Admiral is going to communicate with me in one month
from this date, and, in case I cannot report any material progress, he
has orders from home to assist me.
"You know very well what that means. My chance of promotion is gone
unless I manage to capture the island in four weeks."
Dr. Fox was well aware that a month was all too short a time. He knew
only too well Helston's limitations as a commander, and his inability to
formulate or to adhere to any plans involving grave issues. He knew,
too, the bad effect of this mental indecision and anxiety on his health,
his growing inability to sleep, and his increasing irritability of
temper, yet he could not, merely as senior doctor of the expedition and
old friend of its commander, accept the responsibility of making any
suggestion either for further delay or for immediate action.
"It is not my job, and I will not originate anything."
But one thing he did know, and that was that if anybody could do the
work it was Cummins, and to Cummins the decision should and must be
left.
"Send for Cummins, Helston; tell him what you have told me; give him
twenty-four hours to arrange a course of action; don't attempt to
influence him in any way, and act upon his advice. On no account ask
either Bannerman, who is a mere talker and a braggart, or Hunter, who is
a magnificent, a splendid man, but a fool."
Now, as has been said before, Captain Helston was jealous of his
Commander. He would have been the first to resent the imputation; but
there it was, call it what you may, the necessary sequence of a feeble
will hardly yet conscious of its weakness in the presence of the strong
and overmastering will of a junior officer.
"You're right, Fox, I know you're right. I'll send for him and see what
he suggests."
"That is not enough, Helston, you must decide to act upon his
suggestions." And Dr. Fox argued with him for half an hour or more as
they paced that deck. At last Helston agreed, and Cummins was sent for.
He came shuffling aft, a queer, grotesque little figure in the darkness
(no lights were burnt or shown at night-time), took a glowing cigar from
his mouth, and saluted.
Helston told him of the admiral's letter.
"That means all U.P. with us, unless we do the trick in a month; eh,
sir?" he chuckled. "They are not any too liberal at home, are they?"
"I have sent for you," continued Helston, and Dr. Fox noticed a
constrained tone in his voice, "to ask you for your advice as to what is
to be done."
"Do you intend only to consider my suggestions, or do you intend to act
upon them, sir?" replied Cummins, and Dr. Fox saw his figure stiffen to
attention, could almost hear his jaws clench together, and saw his cigar
go whizzing overboard and extinguish itself in the sea.
"I--I--intend--to--to--follow them," said Helston nervously, "and I'll
give you twenty-four hours to formulate them."
"I do not require twenty-four hours, sir. Two days I want to examine
the coast-line of the island more thoroughly. If I obtain no accurate
information as to the position of the guns and other defences they have,
I want you to bombard the entrance on the third day, and at the end of
the third day I will give you my further plans, which depend on the
result of the information I can gain during that time; that is, sir, if
you require them."
"But what then?" asked Helston nervously.
"I cannot say, sir. All depends on what we discover by the end of that
time."
"Very good, Cummins; you can make what dispositions you choose."
"It all depends on the weather, sir, and I must have calm days--the
first two calm days."
"All right! Come down and look at that chart again."
"Thank you, sir, and I'll have another cigar as well."
* * * * *
The visit of the _Undaunted_ and the mail which she had brought were
perhaps more welcome to the gun-rooms of the _Laird_ and _Strong Arm_
than to anyone else, for monotony palls more readily on youngsters than
it does on men, and certainly they become more rapidly home-sick.
Dinner that night in the _Laird's_ gun-room, though it did consist
chiefly of corned meat and sardines, was a joyous meal.
Every one of them had heard from home, everyone had something to talk
about, and the gun-room, littered with piles of newly opened newspapers,
illustrated weeklies and magazines, was like a bear-garden.
Books, boots, telescopes, school-books and midshipmen's logs, papers,
uniform caps, sextant boxes, and oilskins lay in confused heaps on the
deck and on the tops of the midshipmen's lockers, where they had been
swept off the table during the progress of laying it for dinner.
Several rapid and vigorous passages of arms had already delighted
everybody, except, of course, the seniors, who did not appreciate the
damage resulting to crockery and glasses, of which they were already
running short.
Glover himself, forgetting for a moment his wounded leg (it was now
perfectly healed), had thrown himself with unaccustomed vigour into a
melee at the lower end of the table--the end farthest from where
Jeffreys the Sub (the reigning monarch) and the two Assistant Engineers
sat--and had disappeared from view under it. Here he was passed from
one to another by the gentle process of being kicked from side to side,
and his only chance was to hug the first pair of feet he could get hold
of and drag the owner down with him.
This he did, and there they lay and struggled as to who should gain the
vacant place, whilst their chums joyously drummed on their ribs
indiscriminately and laid odds on one or the other appearing first.
Eventually Glover's head did appear first, but a glass of water poured
over his head by a chum who was backing the other, and a vigorous pull
from below by his opponent made him disappear again, and the table-cloth
went with him, dragging with it knives and forks, glasses and plates, in
a mighty cataract.
This was too much for the onlookers, and with one accord they
disappeared under the table and fought, while the domestics, perfectly
accustomed to such a scene, jumped nimbly round, saving plates and
glasses as these came to sight amidst the struggling jumble of arms and
legs.
Those at the upper end of the table, which fortunately had its own
separate cloth, went on with their meal undisturbed--all except
Dumpling, who, seizing the mess extras-book, dealt vigorous blows on any
undefended portion of anatomy which disclosed itself from beneath the
table.
That was Dumpling "all over". Was there a fight or a "scrum", he was
always near at hand, whacking indiscriminately, but never venturing a
"rough and tumble" himself.
By this time the uproar was so great that Jeffreys, Ogston, and the
other Assistant Engineer could literally not hear themselves speak, and
the table, heaving once or twice as the midshipmen fought and struggled
beneath it, gave ominous signs of capsizing.
"Stop it, you young idiots!" roared Jeffreys, smiting the table with his
open hand and calling the senior midshipman by name.
In a minute they were back in their places, flushed and happy, with
collars gone, coats torn, and here and there small gashes on their
faces, which their nearest chums wiped affectionately with the crumpled
table-cloth.
Order once restored, they fell to with redoubled vigour, and sardines
disappeared like magic--sardines, tinned butter and biscuits.
"Well, I can't get over that news from home," said Dumpling for about
the fourth time since the mail had come aboard.
"Whatever is it, Dumpling?" they all chorused. "Your old cat had
kittens?"
"No, you chaps, didn't I tell you? My sister is engaged to the son of a
duke. I simply can't get over it."
"Can't you, really! Then try if that will help you," sang out Mellins,
and he heaved a sea-boot at Dumpling's head. Dumpling was much too
nimble, and it only crashed into the helpless Mess steward, who was
doing his best to serve them all, smashed to smithereens a jug which he
was carrying, and caught him fair and square on the chest.
"Awfully sorry, Watson," said Mellins apologetically.
"Put Mr. Dunning down for six jugs, Messman," said Jeffreys--"six for
sky-larking."
"But I didn't throw it; it wasn't my fault," stammered Dumpling.
"Your fault, be hanged! you deserved it."
"But my sister _is_ engaged to the son of a----" he began again.
"Come here, Dunning!" Jeffreys yelled. "Now, stand at my side here;
give me your arm. No, I'll be quite gentle with you," as he twisted it
slightly and Dumpling winced. "Now, tell us all very nicely about your
sister. Whom is she going to marry?"
"The son of a du----" began Dumpling.
"No, no, she isn't, my friend. Just repeat after me: My
sister--is--going--to marry--a--broken-down--drunken--cab-driver. Now do
as I tell you," as Dumpling became defiant, "or before you know where
you are you shall have a dozen of the best across your back." And he
twisted his arm till he writhed with pain.
"My sister is--going--to--marry a cabman," he stuttered, red in the
face.
"A--broken-down--drunken cab-driver," Jeffreys roared; but Dumpling was
spared the indignity of repeating that, for a messenger put his head in
at the door and sang out that the midshipmen of the picket-boat and
second cutter were wanted in the Commander's cabin immediately, and as
Dumpling had the second cutter, he wriggled himself free and escaped.
Mellins was the proud "owner" of the picket-boat, and, with their recent
animosities forgotten, both boys bolted like rabbits to the Commander's
cabin.
"Mr. Christie" (Mellins's real name), he began, as they both stood to
attention, "you will have your boat ready, with steam up, to hoist out
at five o'clock to-morrow morning. See that her tanks and bunkers are
full. You, Mr. Dunning, are the duty cutter for to-morrow, I believe.
You will also be ready to lower into the water at five o'clock, and be
prepared to be taken in tow. You can provide rifles and pistols for
your men, and sling the former under the boat's thwarts. Ammunition
will be given you in the morning. Both of you will see that your crews'
food is prepared overnight, and that your boats' breakers
(water-barrels) are full of drinking-water. Go away and make your
preparations at once."
Both boys slipped away with eager faces, but with this difference, that
whilst Mellins went off to find his coxswain, and was clambering into
his boat two minutes afterwards to make certain that all was correct,
Dumpling first went down to the gun-room to pose as a hero, specially
selected by the Commander, and, with a lot of unnecessary fuss, found
his dirk, and took it for'ard to sharpen it on the grindstone.
"That youngster wants kicking badly," said Ogston.
"He shall get it when he comes back," answered Jeffreys nonchalantly.
*CHAPTER XVII*
*Spying Out the Pirates*
We go Inshore--In Under the Forts--Helplessly Drifting--We Hide
among Rocks--A Terrible Moment--Spying Out the Pirates--Taking
Notes--Hopkins Again--How shall we Escape?--Cummins Decides
_Mr. Midshipman Glover tells how he visited the island_
The wound in my leg healed completely in seven days, and I was as right
as rain, but that old brute, Dr. Fox, would not let me go off the
sick-list.
You can imagine how wild this made me, for I was dreadfully afraid of
losing my billet in "No. 3".
The coming of the _Undaunted_ had put new life into everybody, and when
Mellins and Dumpling got their orders that night, the wildest rumours
went flying round.
I tried my best to make Mellins stow me away in the bows of his
picket-boat, but, good chap as he was, he would not hear of it, even
though I offered to bring a big home-made cake which had come in the
mail.
Poor old Mellins! it _was_ hard for him to refuse.
Just think, then, how I felt when at 4.30 next morning the half-deck
sentry woke me with, "Commander wants you, sir, immediate!"
Down I climbed--into my clothes--shoved a cap on my head without
brushing my hair, and rushed up on deck.
"Eh! Mr. Glover," the Commander chuckled, as he looked at me over a cup
of hot ship's cocoa. "Dr. Fox says you are fit for duty, so be prepared
to leave the ship at 5 a.m. to report yourself to Mr. Parker."
Hardly knowing whether I was standing on my head or on my heels for joy,
I dived down below and started packing my chest; but I need not have
been in such a hurry, for the Commander sent his messenger to tell me to
take only what I could carry, so I had to be content with Dumpling's
leather bag again. He certainly did have jolly good bags. I managed to
shove in most of the cake, after chopping off a big chunk, which I hid
in Toddles's locker, and another, which I gave the coxswain of the
picket-boat as a surprise for Mellins. I saw him hide it among some
oily rags, so I guessed that old Mellins would never find it.
It was simply ripping getting back to "No. 3" again--Mr. Parker, Mr.
Chapman the Engineer, and Collins the Sub all jolly pleased to see me,
and Pat Jones too. The only thing wanting was Toddles, and I had not
the heart to say good-bye to him, but left him snoring in his
hammock--he'd had the middle watch.
The Commander came across to "No. 3" with me, and when he was aboard we
took the picket-boat and second cutter in tow and steamed slowly inshore
towards the island, not straight for the entrance, but some way past the
place where the two pirate torpedo-boats had run ashore, making a great
sweeping circle in order not to come under fire from the forts. We
towed the picket-boat in order to save her coal.
As soon as we were close to the land and beyond that projecting corner
of which I have told you, and which hid us from the forts, we cast off
the boats, the Commander going away in the cutter and the picket-boat
taking her in tow. They went as close inshore as possible, creeping
slowly along, away from the entrance, and examining the rocks bit by
bit, whilst we kept abreast of them ready to open fire if the Chinese
did any rifle-shooting from the cliffs.
It was not particularly exciting work, and as far as we could see from
"No. 3", there was not a single place up which a cat could climb. It
was not till the afternoon that we saw anything approaching a beach, and
even that had perpendicular cliffs behind it covered with brushwood.
They must have been dead tired in the boats, but the Commander still
kept at it, standing up in the stern-sheets of the cutter jotting down
notes, taking sketches, and reading off angles on his sextant.
Then, however, we got round to the back of the island.
The shore here was low, but too high for us to see over it into the
harbour, and just as we caught sight of the little channel running out
there, a crowd of ragged ruffians showed up and began peppering away at
the boats.
We let into them with our 12-pounder on the bridge, found the range with
our second shot, and sent them scurrying like rabbits to cover, followed
by a man on a shaggy pony, who cantered slowly after them.
"D' you recognize your friend?" asked Mr. Parker, handing me his
telescope. Sure enough, it was the black-bearded man who had fought so
splendidly on board that destroyer. I recognized him at once.
"Glad he got safely home," I said.
"I don't think he's got home yet," grinned Mr. Parker. "I don't think
he'll find many home comforts in this island. Hurry him up, Jones,"
turning to the gun's crew, who had ceased firing.
Jones took careful aim, fired, and the shell burst just behind the pony,
sending up a cloud of dust and stones. The frightened beast reared and
tried to bolt, but the rider calmly quieted it, and, shaking his fist at
us, walked it slowly over the crest of the slope.
"That's a fine chap," said Mr. Parker admiringly, and sent me down to
his cabin to get him some more tobacco.
Our work for the day was done, and after towing the boats back to the
_Laird_ we joined "No. 2", and after dark took up the usual position
close to the entrance for the night.
As we towed the cutter back to the ship I could see that Dumpling was
wildly excited, and wondered what yarns he would spin in the gun-room
that night about his experiences under fire.
The Commander did not return to his ship, but came back to "No. 3" and
turned in early, dog-tired--too tired even to smoke or make any funny
remarks.