The Surgeon laughed. "Plenty of time for that: it’s only just after half-past nine. What about a hot toddy?" "Lord! I thought I’d been in the water for hours.... Yes, by Jove! a hot toddy——" He paused and looked round, his face suddenly anxious. "By the way, ... ’any one seen a pipe sculling about...?" Down below the telegraph gongs clanged, and the ship’s bows swung round on to her course, heading once more for England, Home, and Beauty. *XXIV.* *"A PICTURESQUE CEREMONY."* "S—— Parish Church was, yesterday afternoon, the scene of a picturesque ceremony...."—_Local Paper_. The Torpedo Lieutenant (hereinafter known as "Torps") was awakened by the June sunlight streaming in through the open scuttle of his cabin. Overhead the quarterdeck-men were busy scrubbing decks: the grating murmur of the holystones and swish of water from the hoses, all part of each day’s familiar routine, sent his eyes round to the clock ticking on the chest of drawers. For a while he lay musing, watching with thoughtful gaze the disc of blue sky framed by the circle of the scuttle; then, as if in obedience to a sudden resolution, he threw back the bed-clothes and hoisted himself out of his bunk. Slipping his feet into a pair of ragged sandals, he left his cabin and walked along the flat till he came to another a few yards away; this he entered, drawing the curtain noiselessly. The occupant of the bunk was still asleep, breathing evenly and quietly, one bare forearm, with the faint outline of a snake tattooed upon it, lying along the coverlet. For a few moments the new-comer stood watching the sleeper, the corners of his eyes creased in a little smile. Men sometimes smile at their friends that way, and at their dogs. The face on the pillow looked very boyish, somehow, ... he hadn’t changed much since _Britannia_ days, really; and they had been through a good deal between then and now. Wholesome, lean old face it was; no wonder a woman... The sleeper stirred, sighed a little, and opened his eyes. For a moment they rested, clear and direct as an awakened child’s, on Torps’ face; then he laughed a greeting— "Hullo, Torps!" He yawned and stretched, and rising on one elbow, thrust his head out of the scuttle. "Thank Heaven for a fine day! Number One back from leave yet?" "Yes, he’s back: you’re quite safe." The other lay back in the bunk. "Has Phillips brought my tea yet?" He looked round helplessly. "What an awful pot-mess my cabin is in. Those are presents that came last night—they’ve all got to be packed. What’s the time? Why, it’s only half-past seven! Torps, you are the limit! I swear I’ve always read in books that fellows stayed in bed till lunch on these occasions, mugging up the marriage-service. I’m not going to get up in the middle of the night—be blowed if I do!"