submarines are scarcely venturing so far out just now."

There was a brief silence. Jocelyn Thew was apparently engaged in
trying to fit a cigarette into his holder.

"Specially hard luck on you," he remarked presently, "if anything
happened when you've taken so much trouble to get on board."

"It would be exceedingly annoying," Crawshay declared, with vigour,
"added to which I am not in a state of health to endure a voyage in a
small boat. I have been this morning to look at our places, in case of
accident. I find that I am expected to wield an oar long enough to
break my back."

Jocelyn Thew smiled. The other man's peevishness seemed too natural to
be assumed.

"I expect you'll be glad enough to do your bit, if anything does
happen to us," he observed.

"By-the-by," Crawshay asked, "I wonder what will become of that poor
fellow downstairs--the man who is supposed to be dying, I mean--if
trouble comes?"

"I heard them discussing it at breakfast time," Jocelyn Thew replied.
"I understand that he has asked specially to be allowed to remain
where he is. There would of course be not the slightest chance of
saving his life. The doctor who is with him--Gant, I think his name
is--told us that anything in the shape of a rough sea, even, would
mean the end of him. He quite understands this himself." Crawshay