"I'll have to turn in for half an hour or so," declared Farnborough. "My ankle is giving me socks. It'll be all right soon. What? Go to the medico for a little thing like that? No, thanks; besides, we are under orders to sail at eight." "Not the stunt?" asked Branscombe. "No, laddie; I said it was a wash-out," replied the skipper. "It's coming off all in good time; can take your affidavit on that. . . . By Jove! that was a bit of a twister," he added with a wry smile as he carefully lowered himself down the steep companion ladder to the ward-room. "Quite all right, though. A little embrocation will soon set matters right." Having laid himself on his bunk, Farnborough drew an envelope from the inside breast-coat pocket of his monkey-jacket. "Here you are!" he remarked, giving his sub the contents of the envelope. "Usual thing. You might see that the dogs are on board before we start. I'll get you to take the old hooker out, old man." Guy Branscombe scanned the typewritten orders. They were marked "Confidential", which is a word that in Service matters may mean a lot, or nothing. Often orders of the most trivial character are so marked, possibly by a minor official who wishes to magnify the importance of his particular work. Consequently, there is a tendency to under-estimate the significance of the word "Confidential". It is another instance of "Familiarity breeds contempt". However, in this case the orders were important. M.-L.'s 4452, 4453, 4454, and 4455 were to proceed on patrol between certain positions. A reference to the chart showed that the limits were from a point six miles north-west of the mouth of the Scheldt to a point five miles due north (true) of the Sandettie Bank Lightship. Three large destroyers from the Dover patrol were to act as covering vessels, while a couple of monitors, each armed with a single 17-inch gun, were to keep Fritz on thorns by lobbing a few shells with uncanny accuracy upon the fortifications of Zeebrugge. The special task of the M.-L.'s was to keep a look-out for a squadron of bombing aeroplanes, which were engaged in liberally plastering the Mole and canal locks of Zeebrugge with tons of high explosives. Should a seaplane become disabled and be compelled to alight on the sea, then the handy little craft would speed to the rescue, in spite of the fact that they were within range of the long-distance German guns on the Belgian coast. "All plain sailing?" asked Farnborough. "Good! If you'll take her out, and call me at eight bells, I'll be eternally grateful to you. So the old hooker's going to have her baptism of fire." CHAPTER VIII On Patrol