“I can’t help the Commander’s troubles,” Fane-Herbert answered. “What makes me swear is that our cap badges will get spoilt.” “What do our cap badges matter? You should see my brother’s cap, and he says----” Derisive applause checked him. “Do you hear the water from the gutter roaring below that grating?” Lynwood said.... “Those must be the steps. Yes, I can see our chests standing there.” Sentley stopped suddenly outside a Chemist’s shop. “I say, hold on a minute. I want some shaving soap.” They turned to look at him. “Oh, Sentley, do you have to shave now?” and they laughed good-humouredly till the colour rose to his cheeks. “I shall have to very soon--at any rate, for Sunday Divisions. Will you wait for me while I get it, Lynwood?” “Don’t stand about in this deluge,” Cunwell put in. “The messman will keep shaving soap. Most messmen do. You can get it in the ship if you want it.” They left the chemist unvisited, and pressed on to the head of the landing-steps. Here they wrapped their mackintoshes round them and sat down on the wet lids of their chests. Someone began to drum his heels against the painted wood. “If you kick off all the paint,” said Cunwell promptly, “you’ll be in the soup at Captain’s inspection.” The heels stopped, and silence fell. Presently their luggage was brought on a barrow chartered by Mr. Binney. The sea was splashing and hissing on the stone steps. In a little time, out of the mist of rain, the bows and funnel of a picket-boat became visible. “That’s our boat,” said Cunwell at once. “She has a sailing pinnace in tow--that’s for our chests.” A bell rang clearly four times; the engines slowed. It rang once, and the throb of machinery ceased; the tow-rope slackened. “Cast off the pinnace! Take the pinnace inside, coxswain. I’ll come outside you.” “Aye, aye, sir!... Get them fenders out, Micky.” The picket-boat’s engines roared astern as the midshipman brought her bows round in readiness to come alongside the pinnace. In a couple of minutes both boats were in position. “Are you the snotties for the _King Arthur_?” “Go on, Sentley, you are senior--you answer.” “Yes,” shouted Sentley. “Down into the boat, then.... No, not in the pinnace. Get into the picket-boat’s cabin.” They clambered across as they were bid. “This must be one of the intermediate snotties,” Lynwood said to Fane-Herbert. “Yes. Don’t you remember him at Dartmouth? Ollenor?” “Ollenor, is it? I haven’t seen his face yet under his sou’wester.” The picket-boat’s cabin was divided into two parts--an outer section, comfortable, light, and clean, which in fair weather was adorned no doubt with white-covered cushions with blue crests; and an inner section, dark and ill-ventilated, wherein were kept signal lamps and all manner of spare fittings. They seated themselves in the outer section because they came to it first.