mockery in a sea like the one that raged now. Butter balls, meat and
vegetables shot from plates and went sailing about. It was necessary to
drink soup from teacups and such solid foods as Jack and Frank put into
their stomachs was only what they succeeded in grabbing as they leaped
about on the table.

The two returned on deck.

The day passed quietly. No submarines were sighted, and at last the
flotilla reached the point where the destroyers were to leave the homeward
bound transports to pursue their voyage alone. The transports soon grew
indistinguishable, almost, in the semi-darkness. The senior naval officer
aboard the Plymouth hoisted signal flags.

"Bon Voyage," they read.

Through a glass Jack read the reply.

"Thank you for your good work. Best of luck."

From the S.N.O. (senior naval officer) came another message. Frank picked
it up.

"Set course 188 degrees. Keep lookout for inbound transports to be
convoyed. Ten ships."

Again the destroyer swung into line. It was almost seven o'clock--after
dark--when the lookout aboard the Plymouth reported:

"Smoke ahead!"