'Nothing,' said the parrot. 'Philip has relieved Max at the helm and is
steering a straight course between the banks--if you can call them
banks. There is nothing else to be done.'

There plainly wasn't. The _Lightning Loose_ rushed on through the
darkness. Lucy reflected for a moment and then made cocoa. This was real
heroism. It cheered every one up, including the cocoa-maker herself. It
was impossible to believe that anything dreadful was going to happen
when you were making that soft, sweet, ordinary drink.

'I say,' Philip remarked when she carried a cup to him at the wheel,
'I've been thinking. All this is out of a book. Some one must have let
it out. I know what book it's out of too. And if the whole story got out
of the book we're all right. Only we shall go on for ages and climb out
at last, three days' journey from Trieste.'

'I see,' said Lucy, and added that she hated geography. 'Drink your
cocoa while it's hot,' she said in motherly accents, and 'what book is
it?'

'It's _The Last Cruise of the Teal_,' he said. 'Helen gave it me just
before she went away. It's a ripping book, and I used it for the roof
of the outer court of the Hall of Justice. I remember it perfectly. The
chaps on the _Teal_ made torches of paper soaked in paraffin.'

'We haven't any,' said Lucy; 'besides our lamps light everything up all
right. Oh! there's Brenda crying again. She hasn't a shadow of pluck.'

She went quickly to the cabin where Max was trying to cheer Brenda by
remarks full of solid good sense, to which Brenda paid no attention
whatever.

'I knew how it would be,' she kept saying in a whining voice; 'I told
you so from the beginning. I wish we hadn't come. I want to go home. Oh!
what a dreadful thing to happen to dear little dogs.'

'Brenda,' said Lucy firmly, 'if you don't stop whining you shan't have
any cocoa.'

Brenda stopped at once and wagged her tail appealingly.

'Cocoa?' she said, 'did any one say cocoa? My nerves are so delicate. I
know I'm a trial, dear Max, it's no use your pretending I'm not, but
there is nothing like cocoa for the nerves. Plenty of sugar, please,
dear Lucy. Thank you _so_ much! Yes, it's _just_ as I like it.'

'There will be other things to eat by and by,' said Lucy. 'People who
whine won't get any.'

'I'm sure nobody would _dream_ of whining,' said Brenda. 'I know I'm too
sensitive; but you can do anything with dear little dogs by kindness.
And as for whining--do you know it's