The skipper went on deck. There was much to be done. Although the "butcher's bill" was light, and the destroyer had sustained no serious damage to her hull--thanks to the defective German shells--the loss of the tophamper was considerable. In her present state she was unable to carry out her duties as an efficient patrol boat. With her wireless out of action she was impotent to perform the vital function of communicating with her invisible consorts. For centuries the British Navy had done very well without the aid of wireless telegraphy, but, like many other things, Marconi's discovery had come to stay. Its use enabled fewer vessels to effectually do the work that hitherto required more to perform, owing to the necessity of keeping within visible signalling distance; and a destroyer without wireless was a "dead end," in modern naval warfare. But Lieutenant-commander Aubyn was not a man who would willingly miss the opportunity of doing his friends a good turn, provided the exigencies of the Service permitted. Before parting company he signalled the "Antipas," which was still standing by the injured destroyer, with the result that a boat put off from the latter and came alongside. "Look alive, you fellows!" shouted Aubyn down the ward-room companion. "If you want to get on board the 'Hippodrome' within the next few hours now's your chance. Tressidar, of the 'Antipas,' will give you a passage. That's all right: stick to that gear till you find the old 'Hippo.' I've had to borrow a kit myself before to-day." CHAPTER XIX HELD UP IN THE NORTH SEA "BEHOLD US, Tress old boy!" exclaimed Fuller, when in the privacy of Lieutenant-commander Ronald Tressidar's cabin the old chums could forget the slight differences in their respective ranks. "Three stormy petrels; nobody loves us. Kind of social pariahs, don't you know. Even the Huns wouldn't have us on two of their packets, after little Seaplane 445B slung us out. And, worse, that blighter Aubyn washed his hands of us. Suppose you'll be slinging us out next, Tress?" "I shall be delighted," replied Tressidar. "The moment----" "Surly old cave-dweller!" continued the flight-lieutenant. "That's what comes of being shipmates with a mouldy bird in a captive balloon. You will be delighted to--what were you saying?" "Delighted to feed, partly clothe and certainly educate you, my festive, until we fall in with the 'Hippodrome.' This last condition doesn't apply to your companions," proceeded Tressidar. "But when or where we fall in with the 'Hippo' is a matter for sheer conjecture. I believe now this duck hunt is over (the rest of the Hun torpedo-craft bar two have been accounted for: I suppose you heard that?) the three seaplane carriers are off south to tackle this Zeebrugge business again. However, trust to luck and don't whine if it kicks you. Them's my sentiments, my dear old pal."