The man’s words stirred the sub to serious thought. A struggle between his sense of gratitude to this man who had so improved his knowledge of submarine work, and his duty to his king and country waged a fierce battle. The "Aphrodite" was Captain Restronguet’s by right. He was wilfully abandoning it--an act that was also within his rights. On the other hand the possession of the "Aphrodite" by the British Navy would mean an undisputed supremacy in submarine welfare. This wonderful vessel would be the means of thwarting any projected invasion by a hostile state, whether by air or by sea. "In matters of this description personal considerations must be put aside in favour of one’s obligations to one’s country," decided the sub, and straightway he sought out his faithful henchman, O’Shaunessey. "Sure, sorr, I think we wud manage ut, be dad," was the Irishman’s comment when Hythe unfolded his plan. At half-past eleven the van of the flotilla from Falmouth came abreast of the "Aphrodite"--two large steamers packed with people who cheered and shouted while strident brass bands added a deafening welcome. Circling, these vessels followed on either quarter of the submarine--so close that Captain Restronguet had to shout to request them to keep a more respectful distance. Abreast of the Lizard the main portion of the waterborne spectators was encountered, till surrounded by nearly a hundred craft of all sizes and rigs the "Aphrodite" forged slowly ahead towards a squat high-sided vessel which Captain Restronguet recognized as the "Wayfarer." Finding the attentions of his escort too pressing the "Aphrodite" hoisted a red burgee from a pole set up on her fore conning-tower--a hint that explosives were about to be transhipped and that there was a certain element of danger in the undertaking. With that the obstructing vessels backed away a few yards, forming a complete circle in the almost motionless sea around the "Wayfarer" and the craft that had engaged her. "D’ye want me to pass you a hawser out astern?" bawled the master of the tug. "No, thank you, Gregory Pinney," replied Captain Restronguet. "Lay alongside, will you?" "An’ who may you be?" demanded the skipper, somewhat astonished to find himself hailed by name. "Mussy me! Why, it is Mr. Tretheway." "Good shot, Pinney! How’s things at home?" "Pretty middlin’, thanks, Mr. Tretheway. But what might I be wanted for? Where’s Captain Restronguet?" The captain laughed. "Thought you’d have cottoned to it before now, Pinney. I am Captain Restronguet, but only for a few moments more. After that I am plain Hugh Tretheway--and I do not feel altogether sorry. But get your masthead derrick swung out: we’ve plenty of gear for you to take."