"Sheer good luck, sir," replied the Sub modestly. "We were picked up by an Italian destroyer and afterwards transferred to the _Paradox_."
The skipper of the _Portchester Castle_ kept his young officer engaged in conversation for some time, during which Webb's eyes were periodically turned in the direction of the returning boats. Yes, thank God! there was Osborne, apparently safe and sound; Dacres too, and Major Fane; most of the ship's officers whom Webb had left behind when he made his dash in the whaler.
At length his Captain dismissed him, and went below to enjoy the hospitality of the diminutive ward-room. Webb made his way across to where Osborne was standing.
"Hallo, old bird--back again, you see!" was the Lieutenant's greeting, informal, but none the less hearty.
"Where's Haynes?" enquired Webb, after returning his chum's salutation. "I've been looking out for him, but all the boats have returned."
"You're a bright lad not to spot your chums," rejoined Osborne. "He was one of the first to be brought off. He got it badly almost at the last lap--a gunshot wound in the side. Donovon's got him in hand now. 'Fraid Haynes' career in the Service is a closed book."
"Sorry to hear that," said the Sub. "I only hope you're wrong, Osborne."
"Wouldn't be the first time," admitted the Lieutenant. "I made a fine mess of things ashore just now." And he told his chum the episode of the Very pistol.
"Do you know where we are bound for?" he continued.
"Port Said--so I heard the Navigating Lieutenant of the _Paradox_ say," replied Webb. "I was hoping that it was Malta; still, one mustn't complain after what we've been through. Not that we'll find Egypt particularly exciting just for the present. From all accounts there's precious little doing."
But Sub-lieutenant Webb was mistaken in his surmise. Before very long he was to find that the Land of the Pharaohs was anything but a place for an uneventful existence.
"DONKEY, sah? Good donkey, sah? Me good dragoman. Talk Englis' like Englisman, sah. Me good----"
"Oh, chuck it, do!" exclaimed Osborne. "No can do; savee?"
It was on the outskirts of Alexandria. Osborne and Webb, already "bored stiff" with the doubtful charms of the sun-baked Egyptian seaport, were longing to be afloat once more. Up to the present their wishes in that direction had not been gratified. In common with the rest of the surviving officers and crew of the lost _Portchester Castle_, they were resting, first at Port Said and then at Alexandria, pending Admiralty instructions and appointment to another ship.