"I am afraid you are no good here, Hawkins. I shall have to give the message to Captain Erskine, he'll be there and back before you're there. Just give him the bearings of the Fleet and he'll be off at once. There you are, Erskine, give that to the Admiral, and bring me instructions back as soon as you can. You've just time for a whisky-and-soda, and then you must be off." Erskine took the letter, and they drank their whisky-and-soda. Then they went on deck. The _Ithuriel_ was lying outside the _Greyhound_, half submerged--that is to say, with three feet of freeboard showing. Commander Hawkins looked at her with envious eyes. It is an article of faith with all good commanders of destroyers that their own craft is the fastest and most efficient of her class. At a pinch he could get thirty-two knots out of the _Greyhound_, and here was this quiet, determined-looking young man, who had created a vessel of his own, and had reached the rank of captain by sheer genius over the heads of men ten years older than himself, talking calmly of forty-five knots, and of the sinking of destroyers and cruisers, as though it was a mere matter of cracking egg-shells. Wherefore there was wrath in his soul when he went on board and gave the order to cast loose. Erskine went with him. They shook hands on the deck of the _Greyhound_, and Erskine went aboard of the _Ithuriel_, saying: "Well, Hawkins, I expect I shall meet you coming back." "I'm damned if I believe in your forty-five knots," replied Captain Hawkins, shortly. "Cast off, and come with me then," laughed Erskine, "you soon will." Inside three minutes the two craft were clear of the _Diadem_. Erskine gave the _Greyhound_ right of way until they had cleared the squadron. The sea was smooth, and there was scarcely any wind, for it had been a wonderfully fine November. The _Greyhound_ got on her thirty-two knots as soon as there was no danger of hitting anything. "That chap thinks he can race us," said Erskine to Lennard, as he got into the conning-tower, "and I'm just going to make him the maddest man in the British navy. He's doing thirty-two--we're doing twenty-five. Now that we're clear I'll wake him up." He took down the receiver and said: "Pump her out, Castellan, and give her full speed as soon as you can." The _Ithuriel_ rose in the water, and began to shudder from stem to stern with the vibrations of the engines, as they gradually worked up to their highest capacity. Commander Hawkins saw something coming up astern, half hidden by a cloud of spray and foam. It went past him as though he had been standing still instead of steaming at thirty-two knots. A few moments more and it was lost in the darkness. CHAPTER XIV THE EVE OF BATTLE