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Updated: July 15, 2025
"Did you ever ask him to dinner before you were engaged, I mean?" pursued the inquisitor. The India-rubber Man laughed. "Well, not dinner exactly. But I went down to Osborne College once and stood him a blow-out at the tuck-shop." His companion nodded darkly in the direction of the King's Messenger. "Shouldn't wonder if Thorogood was feeling like that lad Joe.
"He signalled from the Flagship that he was coming to dinner. I don't know what he's doing up here." Mouldy Jakes, who was sitting on an arm of the sofa watching the game of draughts, looked across at Thorogood. "Sir William?" he asked. "Is that man of mystery up here? What's he up to?" "Don't know," replied Thorogood. "Dirty work, I suppose." The Young Doctor assumed an expression of rapture.
Thorogood deposited the Surgeon on the upper deck, fetched a lifebuoy, and rammed it over the injured man's shoulders. "God forgive me for taking it," said the latter gratefully, "but my fibula's cracked to blazes, an' I love my wife . . ."
"An' it's always the good ones that get nabbed." He eyed the King's Messenger with an expression of melancholy omniscience. "Not so suspicious, you know." "Well," said Thorogood, "that is as may be: but I'm off to bed. Come along, Mouldy." The misogamist suffered himself to be led to the double-berthed compartment he shared with Thorogood.
And will you say I I am looking forward to seeing her again next time I come South?" The speaker moved away into the darkness. At that moment appeared Mouldy Jakes, panting behind a barrow. "Who's that old bird?" he queried. "Another of 'em," replied Thorogood. "'Nother of what?" "Cecily's hopeless attachments. He's a pal of Uncle Bill's, and as rich as Croesus.
"Not 'arf she wouldn't! Nah then, 'oo's for compulsory bathin'. . . . Gawd! ain't it cold! . . ." How he found himself in the water, Thorogood had no very clear recollection; but by instinct he struck out through the welter of gasping, bobbing heads till he was clear of the clutching menace of the drowning.
At the report of the gun the three men raised their glasses to stare in the direction of the sound. "Only one of the Huns' floating mines," said the Navigator. "She exploded it with her 8-pounder. Pretty shot." "Well," said Tweedledee, "I can't stay here all day. Anything else you want to know, James? What's for lunch? I'm devilish hungry." "Boiled beef and carrots," replied Thorogood.
Any news?" "News?" The other laughed. "What about?" "Well," replied Thorogood, "the perishing Hun, let's say." The Navigator, thoughtfully biting the end of a pencil, came out of the chart-house with a note-book in his hand, in which he had been working out the noon reckoning. "Pilot," said the departing Officer of the Forenoon Watch, "James is thirsting for news of the enemy."
He wanted to get along to his own compartment where the scent of violets had lingered. He rose, stretching himself, and slipped his pipe into his pocket. "Well," he said, "'Sufficient unto the day. I'm turning in now." There was a little pause after his departure, and Thorogood prodded the bowl of his pipe reflectively. "I wonder what's happened to the India-rubber Man?" he said.
"Where shall we go?" asked Standish, smiling, during a lull when the crew sat panting and flushed with exertion, grinning at each other over the tops of the thwarts. "Any blooming where," shouted Thorogood. "As long as it is out of sight of the Fleet. I feel I've seen enough of the Silent Navy for an hour or two."
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