There was no need for Mrs. Mostyn to ask for further enlightenment upon the cryptic "it". She guessed the news at once. "I'm so glad, Peter!" she exclaimed. "What ship this time?" "The _West Barbican_, Mater. I fancy she's one of the Blue Crescent Line. If so, it's East Africa and possibly India, this trip. 'Tany rate, I'm to join her before noon on Thursday. Where's the Pater?" "Not back from town yet. There was a board meeting on this afternoon." "Oh yes, I remember. About the Kilba Protectorate contract. I suppose he'll return by the 8.50.... By Jove! What a topping stunt! Fancy getting a ship again after all this time. Of course, Mother, it was nice to be home again, but, after all, it's a jolly long time to be kicking one's heels on the beach, isn't it?" Mrs. Mostyn agreed, but solely upon her son's account. She was in no hurry to send her boy to sea again, but she realized that it was for his good that he should once more adventure upon the ocean. Coming of a seafaring family that for generations past had sent its sons down to the sea in ships--often never to return--she realized more than a good many mothers what was meant by the call of the great waters. She had drunk deeply of the cup of sorrow when the S.S. _Donibristle_, of which Peter was wireless officer, had been reported overdue and missing, and was afterwards given out by Lloyd's as a total loss. And in due course Peter had returned home, modestly making light of his hairbreadth adventures, his chief complaint being that the Broughborough International Marine Telegraph Company had not thought fit to appoint him to a ship belonging to the same fleet as did the S.S. _Donibristle_. Peter's father, John Mostyn, was a retired Engineer Captain, R.N., who, having severed his connection with the navy at the conclusion of the Great War, had become one of the managing directors of the Brocklington Ironworks Company. For a while the affairs of the newly formed company had flourished. Then came the inevitable slump. Labour troubles and foreign competition added to the difficulties of the firm. The reserve capital dwindled until there were barely sufficient funds to meet the weekly wages bill. Things looked black--decidedly so; but never once did the gloomy outlook daunt the cheery optimism of retired Engineer Captain John Mostyn.