"By the way, who is Mr. Carteret-Jones when he's at home?" I whispered.
"I was with him in the _Britannia_. I didn't like him much, but I'm
grateful to him now. I must tell him so some day."
"They seemed to know him hereabouts."
"He rammed the _Caryatid_ twice with her own steam-pinnace."
Presently, moved by long strokes, Mr. Pyecroft returned, skimming across
the dark. The dinghy swung up behind him, even as his heel spurned it.
"Commander Fasset's compliments to Mr. L. Carteret-Jones, and the sooner
he digs out in pursuance of Admiralty orders as received at Portsmouth,
the better pleased Commander Fasset will be. But there's a lot more----"
"Whack her up, Mr. Hinchcliffe! Come on to the bridge. We can settle it as
we go. Well?"
Mr. Pyecroft drew an important breath, and slid off his cap.
"Day an' night private signals of Red Fleet _com_plete, Sir!" He handed a
little paper to Moorshed. "You see, Sir, the trouble was, that Mr.
Carteret-Jones bein', so to say, a little new to his duties, 'ad forgot to
give 'is gunner his Admiralty orders in writin', but, as I told Commander
Fasset, Mr. Jones had been repeatin' 'em to me, nervous-like, most of the
way from Portsmouth, so I knew 'em by heart--an' better. The Commander,
recognisin' in me a man of agility, cautioned me to be a father an' mother
to Mr. Carteret-Jones."
"Didn't he know you?" I asked, thinking for the moment that there could be
no duplicates of Emanuel Pyecroft in the Navy.
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