a torpedo, then if she’s near enough for an undoubted hit, why that vessel is counted as sunk. Or if the battleship finds her with the searchlights and she is so close that she could be smashed with a volley from the guns, why, it’s the torpedo-boat that’s sunk. So it goes.”
“It sounds to me pretty silly,” remarked Billy with some disdain.
“Wait until you’ve played it once, son,” returned the sailor. “When you creep along in the dark to make an attack, or put on every ounce of steam you can to get away, when you know that each man must do his own part the best way he knows how, and that the honour of his ship may hang on every move he makes, why you forget a little that it’s just a game. When it’s over you surely come down with a bump, you have been so sure all along that it was the real thing.”
Billy considered the matter idly for a little, scorning to show too much interest, even in spite of Captain Saulsby’s enthusiasm. The old sailor himself seemed to be full of other thoughts, for when he spoke again it was as much to himself as to Billy.
“I wish I knew whatever could have sunk
