The Commander-in-Chief and the Admiral-Superintendent of Portsmouth Dockyard had breakfasted ashore on that particular morning, and both officers, with the Military Lieutenant-Governor of the Garrison, were to proceed to Spithead on a cruiser to witness the departure of the fleet. It was a fine day, but the beauties of the morning were lost upon them; to have to breakfast at an unearthly hour had considerably ruffled their tempers.
"Come along, Maynebrace," exclaimed the Commander-in-Chief irritably. "It’s six bells already."
"Coxswain! Coxswain! Where in the name of thunder is my coxswain?" shouted Rear-Admiral Maynebrace.
"Here, sir!" exclaimed that worthy, saluting.
"Has the Lieutenant-Governor arrived yet, coxswain?"
"Yes, sir. The police at the Main Gate have just telephoned through to say that Sir John Ambrose has arrived, sir, but being rather late proceeded straight to the jetty."
"And kept us kicking our heels here," grumbled Sir Peter Garboard, the Commander-in-Chief. "Look alive, Maynebrace, or----"
At that moment a flag-lieutenant, red in the face and well-nigh breathless with running, dashed up the steps of the portico of the Admiralty House.
"Sir!" he exclaimed. "Sir, this message has just come through."
Sir Peter took the proffered envelope, fumbled with the flap with his flabby fingers, and at last untied the Gordian knot by tearing off one edge.
"Good heavens, Maynebrace!" he gasped. "Read this!"
The Admiral-Superintendent, with unbecoming haste, grasped the paper and read:--
"Vice-Admiral, First Battle Squadron, Home Fleet, to Commander-in-Chief, Portsmouth. On fleet weighing anchor a painted board was found attached to the anchor of every battleship, the said board bearing the words ’With the compliments of Captain Restronguet.’ Have ordered fleet to anchor again and am sending divers to investigate. Will communicate their report in due course."
All traces of irritability vanished from the faces of the two Admirals. Instinctively they realized that something of moment had taken place, and that instant action was necessary.
"A diver has been playing the fool, perhaps?" hazarded Maynebrace.
"Diver? Humph! Can you imagine a diver leaving his card, in the shape of a painted piece of wood, attached to the anchors of forty ships? No, no, Maynebrace, it’s not that: at least, that’s my opinion."