The harassed instructor obeyed, although there were strong indications of repugnance as he handled the inoffensive little kitten. The Officer of the Watch caught Derek's eye. The officers winked at each other, for each knew Sergeant Jenkins's antipathy. "That's the stuff to give 'em," murmured the O.W. [1] Bête noire. CHAPTER XXI An Independent Command Training under war-time conditions must necessarily be as brief as possible, consistent with a certain degree of efficiency; and the period of instruction at Sableridge was no exception. As quickly as raw material could be fashioned into fairly competent motor-boatmen, drafts were sent away and recruits brought in to fill their places, in order that the R.A.F. marine might relieve the Royal Navy of a certain branch of its work--namely, attending upon sea-planes and coastal airships. As far as an officer under instruction was concerned, the test was a simple, and at the same time a drastic one. He might be sent at a few hours' notice to bring a motor-boat round from, say, Great Yarmouth to Sableridge, a distance of between two and three hundred miles. He had to use his discretion--to remain in port should the weather look threatening, or the atmospheric conditions point to fog or mist. Nevertheless, it was no light task to navigate a half-decked motor-craft in the depth of winter, when short days and dark nights added to the difficulties of making a passage. It was of no use for an officer to attempt to live on his reputation. He had to be prepared to execute orders rationally and efficiently. There was one second-lieutenant who boasted that in pre-war days he had navigated his own yacht from Blackpool to the Isle of Man. Shortly after he had reported for duty at the depot an officer was required to bring a motor-launch round from Harwich. "Why not send Ruby, sir?" suggested the Major, as he and the Colonel were debating as to who should be deputed for the task. "He has taken a boat across to the Isle of Man." So Second-Lieutenant Ruby received his sailing orders, and for the next few days he walked about like a man in a trance. The magnitude of his task appalled him. Finally he went to the Major and declared that he was not equal to navigating the boat. From that moment he ceased to be a motor-boat officer, and was given a tedious but safe shore-billet. It was towards the end of the first week in November that Derek Daventry received his orders for his first trip as an independent command. His instructions were to take two 35-footers and proceed to Wagshot Air Station, where he was to receive a sea-plane and tow her back to Sableridge. The double distance amounted to nearly seventy miles, of which half was open sea work. The sea-plane was an obsolete machine, the engines of which had been removed, and was required merely for the purpose of practising how to take this kind of aircraft in tow.