After leave which extended longer than any of them had hoped, the junior midshipmen, who had parted at the _King Arthur’s_ gangway, joined the _Colonsay_. In the sense that in their new ship there was none senior to them they were junior midshipmen no longer. The Gunroom would still have to be tidied by them, but, instead of Clearing-up Stations at Krame’s command, there would be organization based upon common consent. When the atmosphere became foul at sea, they would have to open and shut the scuttles if they wanted fresh air, but this would not be Scuttle Drill. Between them and an emancipation essential to what happiness they might find in the _Colonsay_ and _Pathshire_ there stood only one doubt. Of the Sub-Lieutenant they knew nothing but that his name was Hartington. He was not on board when they joined, and all the questions concerning him that they put to one another remained unanswered. “Anyhow,” said Cunwell, “if he kicks up a dust it will be easy enough for us--there are six of us--to keep him steady.” It sounded easy; but the Service tradition was against it. “That’s bluff,” John answered. “We might be able to stave off obstacle races and Angostura hunts if we were prepared to make a Gunroom Revolution of it, but, as a matter of fact, we shouldn’t try. You know we shouldn’t when it came to the point. If Hartington wants to make it Hell for us, he can, though he is alone. But if he wants to live in love and charity with his neighbours, we ought to have the best time of any snotties in the Service.” Hartington came on board late that evening, and, after an appearance in the Gunroom too brief to give any indication of his character, disappeared into his cabin. On his way thither he had passed John and Hugh in the Chest Flat. “I wonder if he realizes what an immense difference he can make to us all,” John said. “Think, a two years’ commission in China, with no one in the Gunroom but ourselves and a Sub we get on with! I don’t believe he could spoil it all, if he knew.” “I dare say we shall shake along, anyway,” Hugh answered. “But it would be good--even if he were just neutral and didn’t go out of his way to worry us.” The anxiety was universal. All the midshipmen were discussing him in whose hands their future lay. Then came Driss. “I think Hartington’s going to be all right,” he said. “You know that, for some reason, they have put my chest down outside his cabin--it will have to be moved in the morning. Well, Sentley was standing by my chest while I was looking to see if I had some pyjamas there--I came later than the rest of you, so my trunk and tin case are still on deck. I left them there, thinking I had in my hand-bag all I should want for to-night. And, while I was cursing because I couldn’t find my pyjamas, Hartington put his head out of his cabin. I had clean forgotten he was inside, and I thought he was going to let me have it for making a noise. But he just asked what was the matter--quite civilly, you know.”