Seagrave stood by in charge of the crew and Boyd was on the bridge, which was the only remaining unoccupied space on the upper deck. Between them and the _Parentis_ the crews of the other three boats were drawn up in the same manner, and on the other side of the depot-ship were five more boats in a similar state of cleanliness and innocent expressions. They all flew their newest and largest ensigns, and looked very smart and business-like in their Sunday dresses. The music on the _Parentis_ quarter-deck drew to a close. Three hundred men came to attention and replaced their caps simultaneously, and the chaplain disappeared aft, his surplice waving in the breeze, as the Church pendant fluttered down to the bridge. Another order and the ship’s company faced forward and moved off the quarter-deck, the band, which had struck up a lively march, wheeled in behind the rear division, and the ceremony was at an end. A dramatic pause followed, and then the figure of Captain Charteris appeared at the port-gangway. The boatswain’s mate of the _Parentis_ and the coxswain of the inside boat, which happened to be Blake’s, twittered on their pipes as he descended, and then he was lost to view in the internals of the boat. He had come alone, unattended by First Lieutenants or other minions, which augered well for the results of the inspection. Austin, whose boat was next inside Raymond’s, turned round with a laugh. ‘Hope the “old man” doesn’t run up against Blake’s white paint,’ he said. ‘Pretty small chance for us if he does.’ ‘Trust Blake to watch that,’ came the answer. ‘He won’t want his precious paint disturbed even by the coat of a full-fledged Captain.’ Once more silence and expectancy, and then the Captain reappeared up the hatch followed by Blake, who looked moist and anxious but happy withal. ‘Seems to be in a good temper,’ whispered Raymond to Seagrave. ‘Look out, here he comes.’ With much saluting and piping Captain Charteris stepped across to the next boat and the ceremony was repeated. When he once more rose to view, however, some ten minutes later, his face appeared clouded and he boarded Austin’s boat with a briskness that evidenced that all had not been well with the vessel he had just inspected. ‘Wonder what’s up,’ murmured Seagrave. ‘He looks a bit sickish about something.’ ‘Man in a dirty rig, I expect, or else he asked too many questions,’ replied Raymond. ‘Our turn next.’ At last, after a seemingly interminable interval, the Captain once more rose to view, and joy! the wily Austin had smoothed his ruffled temper. The great man said a few final words, laughed, and turned towards ‘123.’ Blake’s coxswain, pipe to lips, made a scarcely perceptible sign, and then, as the Captain set foot on the gang-plank, he and the coxswain of ‘123’ simultaneously burst into a duet of piping, shrilling, and twittering as each tried to out-do the other.