' What merry beehive's broken loose
now?"
"What odds! We've done our little job."
"Why--why--it's Two Six Seven!"
Here Pyecroft dropped from the rail among the fishy nets and shook the
_Agatha_ with heavings. Moorshed cast aside his cigarette, looked over the
stern, and fell into his subordinate's arms. I heard the guggle of
engines, the rattle of a little anchor going over not a hundred yards
away, a cough, and Morgan's subdued hail. ... So far as I remember, it was
Laughton whom I hugged; but the men who hugged me most were Pyecroft and
Moorshed, adrift among the fishy nets.
There was no semblance of discipline in our flight over the _Agatha's_
side, nor, indeed, were ordinary precautions taken for the common safety,
because (I was in the Berthon) they held that patent boat open by hand for
the most part. We regained our own craft, cackling like wild geese, and
crowded round Moorshed and Hinchcliffe. Behind us the _Agatha's_ boat,
returning from her fish-selling cruise, yelled: "Have 'ee done the trick?
Have 'ee done the trick?" and we could only shout hoarsely over the stern,
guaranteeing them rum by the hold-full.
"Fog got patchy here at 12:27," said Henry Salt Hinchcliffe, growing
clearer every instant in the dawn. "Went down to Brixham Harbour to keep
out of the road. Heard whistles to the south and went to look. I had her
up to sixteen good. Morgan kept on shedding private Red Fleet signals out
of the signal-book, as the fog cleared, till we was answered by three
destroyers.
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