The next moment the conflict was inextricably involved with the table-cloth, letters, note-paper, envelopes and ink descending upon the combatants in a cascade. "You clumsy owls," roared Harcourt, returning from his locker. "Now, where's my letter...." He searched among the debris. "I say, do buck up," wailed the sleepy voice on the threshold. "Buck up?" echoed Harcourt. "Buck up! How the devil can I buck up--ah, here we are." He picked up an envelope, glanced carelessly under the still open flap and sat down to address it. "Got yours, Billy? Here's the stamp." "Yes," replied the other, grovelling in the darkness under the table. "This is it." He reappeared with a letter in his hand. "The Padre----" again began the impatient envoy. "All right--all right!" Mordaunt hurriedly affixed the stamp and addressed the envelope without looking at the contents. "Here you are," he said, holding it out. The messenger departed hastily. The bang of the door awoke the Sub. "Now, then," he said. "Enough of this. Switch off that cursed gramophone. Get up off the deck. Mop that ink up and square off the table-cloth. Knock off scrapping, you three hooligans." The hooligans obeyed reluctantly, and sat panting and dishevelled on the settee. By degrees the Mess resumed its tranquillity. Harcourt stretched his slim form and yawned sleepily. "I'm going to turn in now. And to-morrow know all men that I start training." "That's right," said Lettigne, still panting and adjusting his disordered garments. "Nothing like being really fit--ready to go anywhere an' do anything--that's my motto." He rang the bell and ordered a bottle of ginger beer. [1] Tinned sausages. A delicacy peculiar to Gunrooms of the Fleet. CHAPTER V UNCLE BILL Sir William Thorogood rose from the table on which lay a confusion of papers, drawings and charts. He walked across the cabin to the tiled fireplace, selected a cigar from his case, and lit it with precise care. "You're right," he said. "You've put your finger on the weak spot. No one in Whitehall saw it, and they're seamen. I didn't see it, and--and I'm called a scientist." He made an imperceptible inclination of his head towards his companion as if to convey a compliment. The other occupant of the broad cabin smiled a little grimly. "It's a question of actual experience," he said. "Experience of this particular form of warfare, and the means of meeting it hitherto at our disposal." He pencilled some figures on a piece of paper and studied them with knitted brows. "It's a pity," he said presently. "You're on the brink of the most stupendous discovery of our day. The submarine was a wonderful invention, and there's no limit to the possibilities of its development--or abuse. Until an effective counter can be devised it remains a very terrible menace to civilisation in the hands of an unscrupulous belligerent."