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Overhead on deck the twelve-pounders were barking out a series of ear-splitting reports much as a terrier might yap defiance at a cobra over the stricken body of its master. "I think our number's up, old thing." Thorogood bent and slipped his arms under the surgeon's body. "Shove your arms round my neck. . . . Steady! hurt you? Heave! Up we go!"
Farewells and parting shafts of humour floated up from the sternsheets; Thorogood stood at the top of the gangway and waved adieu with his telescope as the boat shoved off and circled round the stern towards the landing-place. For a moment he stood looking after the smiling faces and waving caps and then turned inboard with a sigh. "Liberty men present, sir!"
"We might ask one or two of the Wardroom," suggested Harcourt. "Some of the cheery ones; Standish and Thorogood and the Doc, say." "And old Jakes," supplemented the Midshipman of that officer's Division jealously. "I'd like to ask him. He loves picnics." Mouldy Jakes was included in the invitation list by general consent.
They passed through into the long Wardroom where a score or more of officers were seated at lunch round the table that occupied practically the whole length of the apartment. "Come and sit here next to Thorogood you travelled up with him, didn't you?" The officer in question, who was ladling stewed prunes out of a dish on to his plate, grinned at the new-comer. "Here you are," he said gaily.
The officer addressed put his empty glass between his knees and proceeded to fill a cherrywood pipe of villainous aspect from a Korean oiled-silk tobacco pouch. "Took a flapper to the movies," was the grave and somewhat unexpected reply. Thorogood, lounging in any easy attitude against the door, took up the tale of gallantry.
The reinforcements checked them, but did not turn the scale at first. There was one gigantic Russian who stood towering above his fellows with clubbed rifle, furiously knocking down all who came within his reach, like Horatius or one of the other heroes of ancient Rome. At him Corporal Thorogood sprang, grasping his rifle by the muzzle as he ran, and whirling it on high.
The Destroyers, strung out on either flank of the Battle-fleet, were rolling steadily in the long, smooth swell, leaving a smear of smoke in their trail. Far away in the mist astern flickered a very bright light: the invisible Light Cruisers must be there, reflected Thorogood, and presently from the Fleet Flagship came a succession of answering blinks. The light stopped flickering out of the mist.
"Fred," said one to the other in a low voice, "He'll save her, or there'll be a man less in the brigade to-night. He never does anything by halves. Whatever he undertakes he does well. Depend on't, that Harry Thorogood will save that woman if she can be saved at all."
I've loved the firemen ever since. They are the boys to show you how to do things well; to do things with might and main, and no fuss, and to submit to discipline without a word." "Oh, father!" cried Harry with blazing eyes, "I should dearly like to be a fireman, an' go fightin' the flames." "And Dick?" asked Mrs Thorogood, "wouldn't you like to be one, too?" "No, mother.
You're a nice person, Pills, to leave the organisation of a racing boat's crew to." He looked round the quarterdeck. "Where're all the others? Lazy hogs! Here we are with the sun half over the foreyard and the boat not even manned." The Surgeon eyed him severely. "You're none too smart on it yourself, Bunje. Where's Thorogood? Where's Number One? Where's Gerrard? Where's ah, now they're coming."
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