night at
sea he found himself alone on the bridge in charge of the ship he
thought differently.

A light cruiser squadron and two flotillas of destroyers were steaming
at 20 knots in close formation without lights. The night was as black
as the wolf's mouth, and the rapidly rising wind cut the tops off the
short seas and sent them flying over the bridge in constant showers of
spray. Moreover, the perpetual pitching and rolling soon gave our
friend a squeamish and altogether nasty sensation in the region of his
waistcoat, and in ten minutes, by which time the water had found its
way through his oilskins and was trickling merrily down the back of his
neck, he felt miserable.

The ship was in the middle of a line of eight destroyers. Two hundred
yards ahead of him he could just discern the dim black blur of the next
ahead and the occasional splutter of whity-grey foam in her wake as her
stern lifted to the seas. At times, when a driving rain squall came
down from windward, he seemed to lose sight of her altogether, and,
through inexperience and in his anxiety to catch up, increased the
revolutions of the engines not wisely but rather too much. The next
thing that happened was that the squall cleared, and he found himself
almost on top of her, and had to put the helm over and sheer out of
line to avoid a collision. At the same time he reduced speed to drop
back into station. Sometimes he reduced more than he should, with the
consequence that the next astern nearly bumped him, while the leader
shot ahead and vanished into the darkness like a ghost.

It was then that he had horrible thoughts of being scrubbed for the
deadly sin of losing touch with the flotilla and meandering about the
ocean like a lost sheep looking for his next ahead. If he did not
succeed in finding her somebody's blood would be required.

It was rather trying for a novice, and many times he remembered the
commanding officer's standing orders. "Do not hesitate to call me if
you are in doubt or difficulty," they said, with the "Do not"
underlined twice. Should he rouse the skipper or should he not? He
was asleep in his clothes on the cushioned settee in the charthouse
underneath the bridge and would be up in ten seconds if required. But
the acting "sub" did hesitate to call him unnecessarily. After all, it
was quite possible that the "C.O." might be rather peevish if he was
hauled out for no reason. He was not really "in difficulty," he