_Ting-ting! Ting-ting! Ting-ting! Ting-ting!_ Eight bells had hardly sounded ere two men appeared on deck, scrambling agilely through the small hatchway that did duty for the ward-room companion. The first was the tall, lean-featured lieutenant-commander. The other, Sub-Lieutenant Gerald Tregarthen, needs a slightly longer introduction. He was almost the same height as the commander, or a fraction under 5ft. 11 ins. in his socks, and was broad in proportion. His features, tanned by constant exposure to sun, wind, and spray, were clear-cut, almost boyish in expression, while at times there was a roguish light in his deep blue eyes. Yet beneath the apparently boyish exterior lurked the spirit of a man. When occasion arose those merry lips would compress themselves into a thin, straight line, the powerful chin would be thrust aggressively forward, and a dangerous glint in his eyes would betoken that resolution, coolness, and daring which are the indispensable characteristics of a successful naval officer. His service career, in spite of its comparative shortness, had been one continued success, yet success had not been gained without sheer hard work. With a "first" in gunnery, torpedo, and navigation, he found himself at an early age well up on the list for promotion. Gerald Tregarthen was in mufti; but his well-cut civilian clothes could not conceal the erect bearing and breezy alertness that characterised the British naval officer. Taking advantage of the _Calder's_ temporary idleness, he had applied and obtained permission for six weeks' leave, and, strange as it may appear, his intention was to spend the best part of that time afloat. There is a story told of a London 'bus-driver who devoted a rare holiday to playing the role of passenger on his own vehicle. Similar motives doubtless prompt hundreds of bluejackets and marines to hire private skiffs during their leave. One has but to go to Southsea beach, the shores of the Hamoaze, or the mouth of the Medway to see jolly tars and jovial "joeys" rowing in shore-boats as if that form of recreation was the greatest treat imaginable. It is, then, not so much to be wondered at that Gerald Tregarthen elected to spend most of his leave on board the 4-ton cutter _Playmate_, at that moment lying in Poole Harbour, the yacht being owned by his old school-chum, Jack Stockton.