Then, in contrast to the war-time conditions, were the square-sterned fishing-boats, mostly painted white and carrying tanned sails. Good, wholesome, weatherly boats they were, manned by greybeards and youths, who "carried on" while their respective sons and fathers were patrolling in armed merchant-cruisers and drifters to frustrate Fritz's knavish tricks. "In peace-time I should be paying three or four guineas a week for this room," thought Derek. "Now I'm being paid to occupy it, and am about to have sea trips free, gratis, and for nothing. This is some stunt." At tea Derek was introduced to his new comrades. There were eleven officers belonging to the permanent staff and fifteen others under instruction. The latter were for the most part youngsters in point of age, many of them joining up direct from school, but veterans in point of war service. Most of them had been flying in the old R.N.A.S. and R.F.C., and their joint record covered every battlefront from Heligoland Bight to German West Africa, and from Mesopotamia to beyond the Scillies--pilots who had faced death a hundred times and had cheated the grim messenger by crashing and surviving. And now they had exchanged the joy-stick for the wheel of a motor-launch and the zest of flying for the equally exhilarating lift of the ocean. The meal over, the crowd of junior officers adjourned to the shore--the tide being low and the moon full--to play sand-cricket and rounders until it was time to change for mess. The meal over, there was a "liberty-boat" to the "beach"--the boat consisting of a motor-lorry, while the beach was the term used to denote the neighbouring seaside town of Coombeleigh. "Ripping fine station!" commented Blair, Derek's room-mate. "I've been in a few stations in my time, but this is the one. By Jove, if things continue as they are going, we'll have a top-hole time! The Colonel? He's one of the best, but I pity the fellow who slacks. Yes, the C.O. expects a high standard, and he'll get it, or there'll be trouble. An' the Major's absolutely 'it': couldn't wish for a better. Of course we aren't in full working order yet. There are only half the number of men here at present, and the majority of 'em are a scratch lot. We've got to lick them into shape as seamen, and it's a tough proposition, I can tell you. Got your bedding yet?" "No," replied Derek. "I'll have to sleep rough to-night, but it won't be the first time." "I'll take you to the Stores Officer," continued Blair. "He'll fix you up with bed-boards and some blankets. Give the batman a shout, and tell him to bring the gear along." In a very short space of time Derek's equipment was augmented by a couple of trestles and three boards. These formed the bed. On that were placed half a dozen blankets and a straw pillow--a Spartan couch, but far better than many he had slept upon in damp and stuffy dug-outs in France.