reappearance in book form, and most of them were written some while ago. “Tubby’s Dhow” was first published in Herbert Strang’s _Annual for Boys_; “The Stranding of the _Hoi-Hau_,” “The Salvage of the _Cashmere_” and “The Luck of the _Tavy_,” in the _Scout_; “The Gunner’s Luck,” in the _Weekly Telegraph_; “The Inner Patrol,” in the _Royal Magazine_; “Horatio Nelson Chivers” and “The Escape of the _Speedwell_,” in the _British Boys’ Annual_ (Messrs. Cassell & Co., Ltd.), and “The Gun-runners,” in the _St. George’s Magazine_. I wish to acknowledge my indebtedness to the respective Editors who have so kindly allowed me to republish my work in book form. It is needless to remark that all my characters are fictitious. “TAFFRAIL.” 1917. CONTENTS PAGE I. TUBBY’S DHOW 9 II. THE STRANDING OF THE “HOI-HAU” 32 III. THE GUNNER’S LUCK 49 IV. HORATIO NELSON CHIVERS 61 V. THE SALVAGE OF THE “CASHMERE” 84 VI. THE INNER PATROL 99 VII. THE GUN-RUNNERS 109 VIII. THE ESCAPE OF THE “SPEEDWELL” 129 IX. THE LUCK OF THE “TAVY” 147 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS The torpedo must have struck her forward _Frontispiece_ TO FACE PAGE Tubby, making a sudden spring, hit him full on the point of the jaw 20 Jim saw the masts of the native craft falling, whilst masses of debris were flung skyward by the force of the powerful explosive 47 He saw to his inexpressible relief that the entrance to Salhanda Bay was in sight 57 “It’s laudanum. Here, take it and hide it somewhere” 77 The fiery trail of a rocket leapt out from the darkness 89 He seized the axe and made a wild slash 142 The glare died away, but not before he had caught a fleeting glimpse of the dark shape of a vessel 150 SEA, SPRAY AND SPINDRIFT I TUBBY’S DHOW I “Oh, blow this Arabic!” exclaimed the midshipman petulantly, shutting up the phrase book on the table before him with a bang and leaning back to stretch himself. “What’s the matter now, Tubby?” asked a small officer called Travers, who, by reason of his rather shrill voice, always went by the name of “Squeaker.” “Tubby,” otherwise Midshipman Arthur Geoffrey Plantagenet, Royal Navy, mopped his face for a minute before replying. It must be admitted that he fully deserved his nickname, for in appearance he was short and very rotund, and was the proud possessor of a bright red face, a crop of freckles, and a shock of sandy hair. His _tout ensemble_ was not prepossessing, but his even white teeth and blue eyes saved him from being absolutely ugly, particularly when he laughed. “What was that you said, Squeaker?” he said at last. “I asked you what was the matter.” “It’s this heat,” Tubby complained. “One can’t do any work while it’s like this!” Their ship--H.M.S. _Clytia_, light cruiser--was in the Gulf of Oman, and it certainly was over-poweringly hot; for the pitch bubbled in the seams on deck, while the awnings overhead seemed to collect rather than mitigate the heat from the blazing sun above. “But why d’you want to learn Arabic?” asked Travers after another pause. “Because I want to know the language, silly!” retorted Plantagenet. “I know all you fellows jeered at me when I took it up, but though I’ve only been at it six months I know quite enough to make myself understood ashore.” “But----” the other was about to protest. “Be quiet, you two!” growled a drowsy sub-lieutenant from a deck chair. “Can’t you let a fellow get to sleep?” It was a “make and mend” afternoon, which in other words meant...