But what d'you want with signals?' 'e says. 'It's criminal lunacy to trust
Mr. Jones with anything that steams.'
"'May I make an observation, Sir?' I says. 'Suppose,' I says, 'you was
torpedo-gunner on the _Gnome_, an' Mr. Carteret-Jones was your commandin'
officer, an' you had your reputation _as_ a second in command for the
first time,' I says, well knowin' it was his first command of a flotilla,
'what 'ud you do, Sir?' That gouged 'is unprotected ends open--clear back
to the citadel."
"What did he say?" Moorshed jerked over is shoulder.
"If you were Mr. Carteret-Jones, it might be disrespect for me to repeat
it, Sir."
"Go ahead," I heard the boy chuckle.
"'Do?' 'e says. 'I'd rub the young blighter's nose into it till I made a
perishin' man of him, or a perspirin' pillow-case,' 'e says, 'which,' he
adds, 'is forty per cent, more than he is at present.'
"Whilst he's gettin' the private signals--they're rather particular ones--
I went forrard to see the _Dirk's_ gunner about borrowin' a holdin'-down
bolt for our twelve-pounder. My open ears, while I was rovin' over his
packet, got the followin' authentic particulars." I heard his voice
change, and his feet shifted. "There's been a last council o' war of
destroyer-captains at the flagship, an' a lot of things 'as come out. To
begin with _Cryptic_ and _Devolution_, Captain Panke and Captain Malan--"
"_Cryptic_ and _Devolution_, first-class cruisers," said Mr.
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