Steam was still issuing in dense clouds from her boiler-rooms; jets of water expelled by compressed air leapt high above her listing masts as the eddying, foaming water encroached upon her decks. Then, with a movement not unlike the convulsive spring of a mortally wounded animal, the stricken craft lifted until her twin-propellers were clear of the water. For perhaps ten seconds she remained thus; then, to the accompaniment of a loud roar as her displaced boilers exploded, she disappeared from sight. Harborough rang for full speed ahead. CHAPTER XV What did Dick Do? Literally forcing his way along the crowded deck, Bobby Beverley went below to make up arrears of sleep. At the foot of the companion-ladder he encountered Claverhouse, on whom the task of providing accommodation 'tween decks for the women and children rescued from the _Cité d'Arras_ had fallen. "Do you know your young brother's been in the ditch?" inquired Alec. "By Jove!" exclaimed Bobby. "Is that a fact? Where is he?" "Fact," confirmed Claverhouse. "At the present time he's shedding his wet gear in your cabin." Dick Beverley looked a little confused when his brother appeared. As a matter of fact he had changed his saturated garments, and was in the act of attempting to remove all traces of the pools of water from the floor when the cabin door was thrown open and Bobby entered. "What silly game have you been up to?" inquired Beverley Major sternly. "Only got a bit wet," replied Beverley Minor. "Nothing much; I'll soon get your cabin straight, Bob." "How did it happen?" demanded Bobby. "Sort of slipped in," declared Dick. "Pushed in?" "Well, there was a bit of a crush," observed Dick diplomatically. "You young ass!" ejaculated his brother. "I suppose you know the water's teeming with sharks?" Dick admitted that he was aware of the unpleasant fact. He had seen them following the yacht soon after she left Suez. "How did you get on board again?" asked Bobby. "Trevear hauled me up with a rope," replied Dick simply. "I wasn't in for more than fifteen seconds." "Time enough for you to have been bitten in two," rejoined Bobby. "All right, carry on and wipe up the mess. I want to turn in." He went out, leaving Dick to complete his self-appointed task, to seek Trevear and gain further particulars, since his brother was obviously "lying low". He found the R.A.F. pilot talking French as spoken on the Somme in 1918 to a pair of children whose home was at Oléron in the Department of the Basses-Pyrénées. The result was not altogether a success, although by a wealth of dumb show Trevear contrived to keep the children amused. "They've shoved me in charge of the crèche, old bird," he observed. "Know it's no use offering you a cigarette; try some of this." He extended a well-used and bulky tobacco-pouch. "What's on your chest, old man?" he continued. "Something my young brother's been doing," rejoined Beverley.