clutching menace of the
drowning. The Commander, clad simply in his wrist-watch and uniform
cap, was standing on the balsa raft, with scores of men hanging to its
support. "Get away from the ship!" he was bawling at the full strength
of his lungs. "Get clear before she goes----!"

The stern of the cruiser rose high in the air, and she dived with
sickening suddenness into the grey vortex of waters. Pitiful cries for
help sounded on all sides. Two cutters and a few hastily constructed
rafts were piled with survivors; others swam to and fro, looking for
floating debris, or floated, reserving their strength.

The cries and shouts grew fewer.

Thorogood had long parted with his support--the broken loom of an
oar--and was floating on his back, when he found himself in close
proximity to two figures clinging to an empty breaker. One he
recognised as a Midshipman, the other was a bearded Chief Stoker. The
boy's teeth were chattering and his face was blue with cold.

"W-w-what were you g-g-g-oing to have for b-b-b-breakfast in your
m-m-mess?" he was asking his companion in misfortune.

Hang it all, a fellow of fifteen had to show somehow he wasn't afraid
of dying.

"Kippers," replied the Chief Stoker, recognising his part and playing
up to it manfully. "I'm partial to a kipper, meself--an' fat
'am. . . ."

The Midshipman caught sight of Thorogood, and raised an arm in
greeting. As he did so a sudden spasm of cramp twisted his face like a
mask. He relaxed his grasp of the breaker and sank instantly.

The two men reappeared half a minute later empty handed, and clung to
the barrel exhausted.

"It's all chalked up somewhere, I suppose," spluttered James, gasping
for his breath.

"Child murder, sir, I reckon that is," was the tense reply. "That's on
their slop ticket all right. . . . 'Kippers,' I sez, skylarkin'
like . . . an' 'e sinks like a stone. . . ."

Among the wavetops six hundred yards away a slender, upright object
turned in a wide circle and moved slowly northward. To the south a
cluster of smoke spirals appeared above the horizon, growing gradually
more distinct. The party in one of the cutters raised a wavering cheer.

"Cheer up for Chatham!" shouted a clear voice across the grey waste of
water. "Here come the destroyers! . . . Stick it, my hearties!"

* * * * *

After a month's leave James consulted a specialist. He was a very wise
man, and his jerky discour