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I had followed the clear precision of each word with a dumb amazement which seemed to leave my mind abnormally clear. I saw Captain Malan's eye turn from Moorshed and seek that of the Cryptic's commander. And he telegraphed as clearly as Moorshed was speaking: "My dear friend and brother officer, I know Panke; you know Panke; we know Panke good little Panke!
He nodded through the large window to the stencilled Devolution awink with brass work in the morning sun, and ceased. Captain Panke faced us. I remembered that this was only play, and caught myself wondering with what keener agony comes the real defeat. "Good God, Johnny!" he said, dropping his lower lip like a child, "this young pup says he has put us both out of action. Inconceivable eh?
I saw Captain Malan turn to his senior. "Come to my cabin!" said Panke gratingly, and led the way. Pyecroft and I stayed still. "It's all right," said Pyecroft. "They daren't leave us loose aboard for one revolution," and I knew that he had seen what I had seen. "You, too!" said Captain Malan, returning suddenly.
The Admiral won't be exactly pleased." Captain Malan spoke very soothingly. Moorshed looked out through the stern door at Two Six Seven. Pyecroft and I, at attention, studied the paintwork opposite. Captain Panke had dropped into his desk chair, and scribbled nervously at a blotting-pad. Just before the tension became unendurable, he looked at his junior for a lead.
"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. Moorshed dreamily. "Go on, Pyecroft."
In less than three Greenwich chronometer seconds Panke will make an enormous ass of himself, and I shall have to put things straight, unless you who are a man of tact and discernment " "Carry on." The Commander's order supplied the unspoken word. The cruiser boiled about her business around us; watch and watch officers together, up to the limit of noise permissible.
I could almost have sworn that she wore black worsted gloves and had a little dry cough. But it was Captain Panke that coughed so austerely. He favoured us with a lecture on uniform, deportment, and the urgent necessity of answering signals from a senior ship. He told us that he disapproved of masquerading, that he loved discipline, and would be obliged by an explanation.
These shell fish are laid in a long trench, covered over with the large leaves of the panke tinctoria, over which a layer of stones is laid, on which a hot fire is kindled and kept up for several hours. The roasted fish are then taken out of the shells, strung upon lines, and hung up for some time in the smoke of wood fires.
Captain Panke and Captain Malan stood on the well-browned flash-plates by the dazzling hatch. Precisely over the flagstaff I saw Two Six Seven astern, her black petticoat half hitched up, meekly floating on the still sea. She looked like the pious Abigail who has just spoken her mind, and, with folded hands, sits thanking Heaven among the pieces.
"The mote on their neighbour's beam, of course," said Pyecroft, and read syllable by syllable: "'Captain Malan to Captain Panke. Is sten cilled frieze your starboard side new Admiralty regulation, or your Number One's private expense? Now Cryptic is saying, 'Not understood. Poor old Crippy, the Devolute's raggin' 'er sore. 'Who is G.M.? she says. That's fetched the Cryptic.
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