"No, I was forty foot under when he hove out the big un. What happened
to _you_?"

"My steering-gear jammed just after I went down, and I had to go round
in circles till I got it straightened out. But _wasn't_ he a mug!"

"Was he the brute with the patch on his port side?" a sister-boat
demanded.

"No! This fellow had just been hatched. He was almost sitting on the
water, heaving bombs over."

"And my blasted steering-gear went and chose _then_ to go wrong," the
other commander mourned. "I thought his last little egg was going to
get me!"

Half an hour later, I was formally introduced to three or four quite
strange, quite immaculate officers, freshly shaved, and a little tired
about the eyes, whom I thought I had met before.


LABOUR AND REFRESHMENT

Meantime (it was on the hour of evening drinks) one of the boats was
still unaccounted for. No one talked of her. They rather discussed
motor-cars and Admiralty constructors, but--it felt like that queer
twilight watch at the front when the homing aeroplanes drop in.
Presently a signaller entered. "V 42 outside, sir; wants to know which
channel she shall use." "Oh, thank you. Tell her to take so-and-so."
... Mine, remember, was vermouth and bitters, and later on V 42