"Anything sighted?" called Lieutenant-Commander Dave Darrin as he stepped briskly from the little chart-room back of the wheel-house and turned his face toward the bridge. "Nothing, sir, all afternoon," responded Lieutenant Dan Dalzell from the bridge. Dave ran lightly up the steps, returning, as he reached the bridge, the salutes of Dalzell, executive officer, and of Ensign Phelps, officer of the deck. "It's been a dull afternoon, then?" queried Darrin, his eyes viewing the sea, whose waters rose and fell in gentle swells.