Page 2 of The Stolen Cruiser


  CHAPTER II

  THE INTERRUPTED MATCH

  THE _Frome_ came alongside the Fountain Lake Jetty, and her commanderrepaired to the commander-in-chief's office to make his report as towhy the night gunnery exercises had not been carried out. To therelief of everyone on board the destroyer it was decided that thenight-firing was to be postponed until after the little craft'srefit, and in the interval the _Frome_ was to lie alongside the jettyuntil her consort, the _Blackadder_, came out of No. 3 Dock.

  "That's good!" ejaculated Fielding, as the officers went to dinner inthe diminutive, cosy wardroom. "We'll have time to put in a fewhours' practice at the nets. Have you seen the list of our team yet,Cardyke?"

  "Thompson's sending out the names tomorrow. I know that we are in theteam; Simpson gave me the cue," replied the midshipman. "Thepractice-nets will be available at ten o'clock to-morrow morning. Isuppose we may go, sir?"

  "Of course," assented Drake, good-naturedly. "The gunner will be incharge up to eight bells."

  The four officers--for the engineer-lieutenant formed one of theparty--fell to discussing everyday topics. "Shop" was rigidly tabooedin the _Frome's_ wardroom unless absolutely necessary for Servicereasons.

  The following day, Thursday, passed almost without incident. Fieldingand Cardyke put in a good morning's work at the practice-nets in theUnited Services ground; while Drake went ashore in the afternoon fora motor-drive.

  Friday dawned bright and clear, with every prospect of a blazing hotday. Shortly after breakfast a newsboy brought off the daily papersto the ship, and for the next half-hour the officers "stood easy."

  "By Jove! They think that something's happened to the old_Impregnable_," exclaimed Paul Fielding. "She ought to have turned upat the mouth of the Scheldt yesterday morning, and nothing has beenseen or heard of her."

  "Delayed by fog possibly," remarked the lieutenant-commander. "Still,it's no affair of the Admiralty's since the ship is sold."

  "The paper hints at something mysterious."

  "Naturally. There's been a dearth of news for the last month or more,and this is a good opportunity of arousing public interest. She'llturn up all right, with two tugs looking after her. Well, what'sthis?"

  Drake turned to receive a message from a signalman.

  "I say, you fellows," he exclaimed. "The _Frome_ will be wellrepresented in the Fifth Division Team. Thompson's sent a signal fromthe depot-ship asking me to play. They must be fearfully hard up forplayers, because I am awfully out of practice."

  "Of course you'll play?" asked Fielding, eagerly, for Drake had areputation as a hard slogger at no very distant date.

  "I'll do my best, rest assured," replied Drake, modestly, as hedeliberately folded his newspaper, and placed it in the rack. "Butbusiness first and pleasure afterwards--it's time for divisions."

  The morning passed only too quickly, for there was much to be done inthe way of routine, and at 2 p.m. Drake, Fielding, and Cardyke, allin mufti, went ashore. A taxi quickly bore them to the officers'Recreation Ground, where most of the rival teams had alreadygathered.

  Matches between the officers of the various ships and torpedodestroyer divisions were a favourite amusement in the Portsmouthcommand, the game usually being followed by an informal dinner, thelosing side having to pay all expenses.

  Confident in the batting capabilities of the Fifth Division team,Drake expressed his willingness to eat his hat should they fail towin.

  "Eating his hat" was the lieutenant's favourite figure of speech;but, somewhat to his surprise, Lieutenant Player, the skipper of theSixth Division team, promptly made a note of his rival's promise inhis pocketbook, amid the laughter of his companions.

  Possibly this action unsettled Drake, for, instead of coming up tohis average, he was clean bowled before the end of the first over.The wickets fell in quick succession, and in spite of the determinedstand of young Cardyke, the Fifth closed with a miserableforty-three. As for the Sixth, they soon piled on runs till thescoring-board stood at 108.

  "Now then, Drake," exclaimed Player, boisterously. "Where's yourhat?"

  Drake began to glare at his tormentor; then, realising the absurdityof "getting his rag out": "See what I'll do to-night," he replied. "ADrake always keeps his word."

  Just at that moment a marine orderly, mounted on a bicycle, rode at ahigh speed over the turf, threw himself out of the saddle abreast ofthe pavilion, and, with a salute, handed Drake an envelope.

  Without a word the lieutenant-commander opened the buff covering,read the contents, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

  At length Drake dismissed the messenger, thrust the missive into hispocket, and strolled casually out of the pavilion. The news wasimportant, but it was almost as important that none of his companionssave his subordinates should know its import.

  Outside the pavilion Drake beckoned to Fielding, and the two strolleda few yards away from the others.

  "Looks like business, sir," commented Fielding, as he read themomentous news. "I thought there was something fishy when the papershinted at it this morning."

  "It's a rattling good chance, Fielding, my boy--a rattling goodchance. If we don't score I'll eat my----"

  But recollecting that he had already promised to masticate more thanhe wished for, Drake checked himself in time.

  "Mr. Cardyke," he exclaimed, as the midshipman passed on his way tothe pavilion. "Not a word to the others, mind. A message has justcome from the commander-in-chief ordering us to put to sea with theutmost promptitude on particular service."

  "Anything startling, sir?"

  "Only that news has been received that the _Impregnable_ has beenseized on the high seas. How, when, or where we have to find out. Ourinstructions are to investigate, and take action if necessary."

  "I hope, sir, there will be plenty of 'if necessary' about it."

  "So do I," agreed Drake, grimly. "We've the chance of a lifetime--andI mean to make the most of it."

 
Percy F. Westerman's Novels