"Gorgeous news, you fellows!" exclaimed the R.A.F. pilot, who had made a rapid recovery from the effect of his immersion in the icy waters of Zeebrugge Harbour. "I'm told off for the coming Ostend stunt. Got my orders from the Squadron Commander this afternoon." "Some fellows get all the luck," grunted Branscombe. "'Spose we must congratulate you; but for Heaven's sake don't rub it in! We're properly hipped. Nobody up-topsides loves us. We're kind of social pariahs amongst the lucky dogs of the Dover Patrol. In short, we're fed up absolutely." "I agree," added Seton disconsolately. "What's upset your respective apple-carts?" asked Smith. "Every mortal thing," replied Seton. "We both volunteered for work with the _Vindictive_, and all we got was thanks and fourteen days' leave. There's been a most unholy scramble to take part in the stunt--fellows tumbling over each other, like a west-end bargain sale. One fellow puts forward his claim on the grounds that he was on the _Sirius_, another the _Brilliant_, a third because he got into Zeebrugge and got out again. The 'Vindictives' naturally want to see the thing through, and they won't budge--so there you are. Branscombe's M.-L. is _non est_, and they haven't given him a new one. I'm pushed out of the destroyer flotilla 'cause I've been chipped about a bit. The medical board tell me that I want rest--and it's rest that's driving, me silly. No chance of getting a lift in your 'bus?" The pilot shook his head. "Sorry--nothin' doin'," he replied. "Much as I appreciate what you've done for me in the past, you have asked me the impossible. I couldn't smuggle you in a 'plane, you know. Well, I must away. I'm just off to the Air Station." "By Jove, Seton!" exclaimed Branscombe, as the pair continued their way; "that fellow Smith has given us the straight tip." "What do you mean?" asked Alec. "Said he couldn't smuggle us." "Well, what of it?" "Where's your imagination, old son?" continued Branscombe. "What's to prevent us doing the stowaway stunt on board the _Vindictive_?" Alec fairly gasped. "Fine old hole we'd be in if we were found out," he objected. "We mustn't be found out--at least until after the stunt is over," replied Branscombe; "then it doesn't matter so much. Either we won't be alive to bear the wigging, or else we'll be tails up. In that case I don't very much care what happens if we've had our whack of the fun." "'Prejudicial to discipline and good conduct'," quoted Seton. "So are a good many things," argued Branscombe. "In the Service there are two ways of getting a job done: the official and the non-official. It's only when you make a mess of things that you are hauled over the coals. Nothing happened to those fellows who refused to leave the _Intrepid_ before she went into action. We'd both be able to do a bit with a quick-firer or a machine-gun." "It's not a bad scheme," admitted Alec. "How do you propose to go about it?"