MART TURNS UP
ish Grand Fleet had sunk at its moorings! I was never gladder to see the last of anything than I was to watch Kinnaird Head lose itself in the mist. It's those horrible mists that make life miserable up that way. And then the sea's beastly, too, most of the time. And cold! My word, fellows, submerging in Moray is like going into an ice-chest! Still, at that, it was interesting, and we had our thrills. One of 'em came when we took a practice plunge and something went wrong with the tanks and we stayed on the bottom for seven hours before we could get up again. Those little things make life interesting. I never knew until that day how many of us carried Bibles in our old kit bags!"
"And what are you up to now, if I may ask?" inquired Tip.
"You may ask, all right, friend, but don't expect me to tell you. They sent three of us down here, but we don't know why, unless it's to get the icicles out of the balance tanks. We had a weird run of it, too, down that east coast of yours. Do you know that there are exactly nine thousand different currents along there? Well, there are. I heard the Old Man say so, and he ought to know, for he was on duty every minute. He's ashore now somewhere. I heard him say he was going
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