f I keep her
straight on, there's a chance. So hell's afire!" I says to Mac--"there's
only one thing for us to do now and that is to keep straight on!" And I
kept straight on, sir--and, I beg leave to report it now, sir--we made
our mooring safely.'

"And that's all there was to that," concluded Mac.

There was a long silence in the smoke-room when Mac had done, and then a
voice asked: "If Chiz had gone to sea and come in by the other
channel--it was almost dark at the time--he would have been too late to
make the barrage, wouldn't he?"

"He sure would," said Mac.

"Which would mean that he would be kept turning his wheels over outside
the net all night?"

"He sure would."

"As it was, he got in in plenty of time for that little game up-stairs
last night?"

"He was in a little game," admitted Mac.

Another silence, and then another voice: "Well, poker or no poker,
Chiz's dope on that damn-the-torpedo stuff isn't the worst in the
world!"

FLOTILLA HUMOR--ASHORE

The incident reported in the previous chapter was not young Chisholm's
first interview with the British admiral.

Mac went on to tell how when, after his first cruise, Chiz came to the
naval base to report. He had heard that the old fellow in charge
believed that the Lord made the earth for admirals, especially British
admirals, but beyond that he knew nothing of his peculiarities.

However, after his cruise, Chiz went whistling up the hill to report. By
and by he was admitted to the presence of the admiral, who was seated at
a flat desk in the middle of the room, gazing straight ahead.

The old chap looked pretty frosty. Chiz waited a moment, then ventured a
cheery "Good morning, sir."

The face at the desk did not even turn to look at him, but the thin lips
almost opened and a rasping voice said: "Got anything to say to me?"

Chiz was one of the sociable souls, and he would have liked to sit down
and talk in an informal way of several little sea things that he thought
were fairly interesting. But he had not been asked even to sit down, and
the voice froze him. So, "Why, no sir, nothing special to report," was
all he could find to say.

"H-m. Nothing to say? Then why waste my time or your own? Might as well
get out, hadn't you?"

Chiz got out.

"An American lieutenant-commander in this place must rate about seven
numbers below a yellow dog," said Chiz to Mac when he came out.

Chiz had four days in port (Mac is still telling the