"You, my dear fellow, are wedged in between the swing-table and the floor; I am still at the helm, waiting to be relieved; and the _Playmate_ is approximately two miles southwest of St. Catherine's. Have I made clear our relative positions?" "Quite, old fellow," replied Tregarthen, scrambling out of the partially closed sliding hatchway. "I'll give you a spell." "Here you are, sou' by west quarter west," said Stockton, indicating the course; and crawling into the fo'c'sle, he was soon hard at work preparing breakfast. Having satisfied himself as to the course Tregarthen looked astern. It was a magnificent picture. Away on the port hand a huge man-of-war was heading towards Spithead. By her tripod masts and the peculiar arrangement of her funnels and upper works the sub-lieutenant recognised her as the _Foudroyant_, the latest phase in British naval construction. A mile ahead was a topsail schooner, close-hauled on the starboard tack, her brown and patched canvas gilded by the slanting rays of sunshine, while still further away a few tramps were steaming steadily up Channel, their outlines barely discernible against the morning mist. "How's the glass?" asked Gerald, as his chum regained the cockpit with a deep tray covered with eatables. "Steady as a rock. Here, wedge this tray in somewhere, and I'll bring out the coffee. We must rough it a bit when we are having meals under way." In spite of the pitching of the yacht both members of the crew did full justice to the meal. This over, Jack resumed his place at the helm, and Gerald proceeded to his task of "washing up." The young sub-lieutenant could not help laughing at the ludicrousness of his position. Here was he--an officer of H.M. Navy--cooped up in a most uncomfortable posture in a cramped fo'c'sle, and undertaking a task that he had never before performed. How his brother-officers would roar with amusement could they but see him. Yet he had to confess that the novelty of the whole thing was delightful. "What about a wash?" he asked, some time later. "You'll have to whistle for one," replied Jack. "At least, till we reach port. Fresh water's precious at the present time. I'll tell you what--we'll have a bathe over the side." Gerald looked at the wake of the little craft. The _Playmate_ was bowling along at a bare three knots, and having passed the disturbed waters of the race was now sailing more steadily in the gentle, regular heave of the open Channel. "How will you manage it--heave-to?" "No; one at a time. Keep her as she is." Jack quickly divested himself of his clothing, and, grasping the bight of the slackened-off main-sheet, he lowered himself into the sea. There he hung, towed through the waves, with a miniature cascade pouring over his head, till, having had enough, he dexterously regained the yacht. "Capital!" he exclaimed, shaking the dripping water from his face. "But it's much colder than one would expect for the time of year."