Two or three
were introduced with English formality.
"If you are not too bowled over, old chap," begged a middy named
Gridson, "explain to us how a tug ever happened in the middle of the
Sargasso in full flight from a hostile fleet."
Some of the wounded were still coming up from the cutter, as Madden made
a beginning of the tug's story. Just then he was interrupted by
Ponsonby.
"Pardon, Madden, but who is that chap coming up--Say, Gridson, that
isn't--why that's Wentworth!" The middy suddenly dropped his voice.
"That's Wentworth or his ghost, fellows--off of a _tug_!"
Madden looked. Smith was coming on the deck under the solicitous escort
of a surgeon.
"That's Caradoc Smith," said Madden. "He assumed command of the tug when
he found out war was declared."
"Smith was part of his name," explained Gridson. "Caradoc
Smith-Wentworth was the way he signed the register. He's of the Sussex
Smith-Wentworths. His brother took the title, you know."
"Just fancy!" marveled Ponsonby. "Cashiered six months ago, comes back
chasing submarines on a tug, a hero, from boot strap to helmet--a bloody
hero----"
"Hold there, Ponsonby," cautioned another officer named Appleby. "The
chap may be hurt seriously--you oughtn't to laugh."
"Just look at the old man shaking his hand!" ejaculated Gridson, as a
very erect gray-headed officer came down off the bridge and extended his
hand.
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