The Corporal of Military Police, who stood at the gangway
examining the passes, stopped Desmond Okewood as the latter held
out his pass into the rays of the man's lantern.

"There was a message for you, sir," said the Corporal. "The
captain of the Staff boat would h-esteem it a favor, sir, if you
would kindly go to his cabin immediately on h-arriving on board,
sir!"

"Very good, Corporal!" answered the officer and passed up the
gang plank, enviously regarded by the press of brass-hats and
red-tabs who, for the most part, had a cramped berth below or
cold quarters on deck to look forward to.

A seaman directed Desmond to the Captain's cabin. It was built
out just behind the bridge, a snug, cheery room with bright
chintz curtains over the carefully screened portholes, a couple
of comfortable benches with leather seats along the walls, a
small bunk, and in the middle of the floor a table set out with a
bottle of whiskey, a siphon and some glasses together with a box
of cigars.

The Captain was sitting there chatting to the pilot, a short,
enormously broad man with a magenta face and prodigious hands
which were folded round a smoking glass of toddy.

"Pick 'em up? Rescue 'em?" the pilot ejaculated, as Desmond
walked in, "I'd let 'em sink, every man Jack o' them, the
outrageous murderin' scoundrels. I don't like to hear you
a-talking of such nonsense, Cap'en!"

On Desmond's entrance the Captain broke off the conversation. He
proved to be a trimly-built man of about fifty with a grizzled
beard, and an air of quiet efficiency which is not uncommonly
found in seamen. The pilot drained his glass and, scrambling to
his feet, nodded to Desmond and stumped out into the cold night
air.

"Jawin' about the U boats!" said the Captain, with a jerk of his
head towards the cabin door, "I don't know what the feelings of
your men in the trenches are towards Fritz, Major, but I tell you
that no German will dare set foot in any coast port of the United
Kingdom in my life-time or yours, either! Accommodation's a bit
narrow on board. I thought maybe you'd care to spend the night up
here!"

"Any orders about me?" asked Desmond.

The Captain went a shade deeper mahogany in the face.

"Oh no," he replied, with an elaborate assumption of innocence.
"But won't you mix yourself a drink? And try one of my cigars, a
present from a skipper friend of mine who sailed into Tilbury
from Manila last week."

Desmond sat in the snug cabin