ort o' collapsed
directly we got 'em into the boat."

"Then take them below," continued Devereux. "I say, Fanshawe, there's
a job for you at last, my festive sawbones."

Fanshawe, lately a young country practitioner with a scattered "panel"
connection, had but recently entered the Navy as a surgical probationer
R.N.V.R. He joined purely through patriotic motives, having sacrificed
a fairly substantial income in order to do so. Up to the present his
work had been almost a sinecure. The _Yealm_ had not had the faintest
chance of taking part in an engagement. Her crew--to use Fanshawe's
own words--were "that beastly healthy, don't you know", that, out of
sheer anxiety to do something, he was learning navigation from the
Sub-lieutenant.

The medico undertook his first important professional task on board the
_Yealm_ with great alacrity, and it was not long before Ross and Vernon
were in a fit state to be questioned. Hans Koppe was in a bad plight.
So utterly shaken were his nerves that he seemed on the point of
collapse.

"So you are the son of Admiral Trefusis," said the
Lieutenant-Commander. "I can't say that I know him personally,
although I know of him. But how did you get on board the submarine?"

Ross explained. He felt hurt at having to do so. The
Lieutenant-Commander's ignorance of the disappearance of the two chums
from St. Mena's Island "took all the wind out of his sails". In
pre-War days the principal papers would have devoted at least half a
column to the supposed deaths by drowning, off the Cornish coast, of
two well-connected youths. Nowadays editors had neither space nor
inclination to devote to such a comparatively trivial matter.
Consequently Devereux could be exonerated of all lack of knowledge of
the supposed accident. Yet his interest grew as Ross proceeded with
his narrative.

"Look here," he remarked. "We've got to dodge around for a few hours
in case your pal U77 does put in an appearance. But I'll wireless the
Admiral and ask for a telegram to be sent to your homes, to let your
people know you are still alive and kicking."

"Better not, sir," objected Ross.

Devereux looked curiously at the lad.

"And why not?" he asked.

"Well, you see," explained Trefusis, "a telegram is not such a
confidential matter as one would like it to be, especially in a remote
country district."

"It's good news though," remarked the Lieutenant-Commander.

"Yes," admitted Ross; "but it is ab