Ken and Dave changed in quick order, and as soon as they had finished were
conducted for'ard for breakfast. Biscuit, butter out of a tin, sardines,
and cocoa. War fare, but all the best of its kind, and the boys did
justice to it.

The 'old man'--that is, Commander Carey--was on the bridge when they came
on deck. He greeted them kindly, and Ken ventured to ask if anything had
been heard of Kemp.

'Not a word,' was the answer. 'He's not been picked up, so far as any one
knows. Probably he's food for the fishes by this time. Well, good-bye to
you. Wish you luck.'

'Thank you, sir,' said Ken and Dave together. Then they were over the side
into the collapsible, and were pulled straight across to the wall-sided
'Charnwood' which lay at anchor less than half a mile away.

Mudros Bay, which is a great inlet in the south of the island of Lemnos,
was alive with craft of all sorts. Warships and transports by the dozen,
British and French, were lying at anchor in every direction, and in and
out among them, across the brilliant, sunlit waters, dashed picket boats
and all sorts of small craft.

'My word, this looks like business!' said Dave, as he glanced round at the
busy scene.

'It does,' agreed Ken. 'Last time I was here, there were two tramps and an
old Turkish gunboat. Not a darned thing else.'