"
A smothered chuckle greeted this last. Moorshed's voice was high and
uneasy. Said Pyecroft, with a sigh: "The amount o' trouble me an' my
bright spurs 'ad fishin' out that information from torpedo coxswains and
similar blighters in pubs all this afternoon, you would never believe."
"But has the _Stiletto_ broken down?" I asked weakly.
"How else are we to get Red Fleet's private signal-code? Any way, if she
'asn't now, she will before manoeuvres are ended. It's only executin' in
anticipation."
"Go astern and send your coxswain aboard for orders, Mr. Jones." Water
carries sound well, but I do not know whether we were intended to hear the
next sentence: "They must have given him _one_ intelligent keeper."
"That's me," said Mr. Pyecroft, as a black and coal-stained dinghy--I did
not foresee how well I should come to know her--was flung overside by
three men.
"Havin' bought an 'am, we will now see life." He stepped into the boat and
was away.
"I say, Podgie!"--the speaker was in the last of the line of destroyers,
as we thumped astern--"aren't you lonely out there?"
"Oh, don't rag me!" said Moorshed. "Do you suppose I'll have to manoeuvre
with your flo-tilla?"
"No, Podgie! I'm pretty sure our commander will see you sifting cinders in
Tophet before you come with our flo-tilla."
"Thank you! She steers rather wild at high speeds."
Two men laughed together.
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