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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/25749-8.txt b/25749-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b43cec5 --- /dev/null +++ b/25749-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5251 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Tall Ship, by Sir Lewis Anselm da Costa +Ritchie + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: A Tall Ship + On Other Naval Occasions + + +Author: Sir Lewis Anselm da Costa Ritchie + + + +Release Date: June 10, 2008 [eBook #25749] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALL SHIP*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Transcriber's note: + + "Bartimeus" is the pseudonym of Captain Lewis Ritchie, R.N. + + + + + +A TALL SHIP + +On Other Naval Occasions + +by + +"BARTIMEUS" + +Author of "Naval Occasions" + + + + + + + + . . . "All I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, + * * * + And a laughing yarn from a merry fellow rover, + And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over." + JOHN MASEFIELD + + + + +Cassell and Company, Ltd +London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne + +First published September 1915. +Reprinted September and October 1915. + + + + +To + +H. M. S. + + + + +PREFACE + +It is almost superfluous to observe that the following sketches contain +no attempt at the portrait of an individual. The majority are etched +in with the ink of pure imagination. A few are "composite" sketches of +a large number of originals with whom the Author has been shipmates in +the past and whose friendship he is grateful to remember. + +Of these, some, alas! have finished "the long trick." To them, at no +risk of breaking their quiet sleep--_Ave atque vale_. + +"Crab-Pots," "The Day," and "Chummy-Ships" appeared originally in +_Blackwood's Magazine_, and are reproduced here by kind permission of +the Editor. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + 1. CRAB-POTS + 2. THE DRUM + 3. A CAPTAIN'S FORENOON + 4. THE SEVEN-BELL BOAT + 5. THE KING'S PARDON + 6. AN OFF-SHORE WIND + 7. THE DAY + 8. THE MUMMERS + 9. CHUMMY-SHIPS + 10. THE HIGHER CLAIM + + + + +A TALL SHIP + + +I + +CRAB-POTS + +1 + +In moments of crisis the disciplined human mind works as a thing +detached, refusing to be hurried or flustered by outward circumstance. +Time and its artificial divisions it does not acknowledge. It is +concerned with preposterous details and with the ludicrous, and it is +acutely solicitous of other people's welfare, whilst working at a speed +mere electricity could never attain. + +Thus with James Thorogood, Lieutenant, Royal Navy, when he--together +with his bath, bedding, clothes, and scanty cabin furniture, revolver, +first-aid outfit, and all the things that were his--was precipitated +through his cabin door across the aft-deck. The ship heeled violently, +and the stunning sound of the explosion died away amid the uproar of +men's voices along the mess-deck and the tinkle and clatter of broken +crockery in the wardroom pantry. + +"Torpedoed!" said James, and was in his conjecture entirely correct. +He emerged from beneath the debris of his possessions, shaken and +bruised, and was aware that the aft-deck (that spacious vestibule +giving admittance on either side to officers' cabins, and normally +occupied by a solitary Marine sentry) was filled with figures rushing +past him towards the hatchway. + +It was half-past seven in the morning. The Morning-watch had been +relieved and were dressing. The Middle-watch, of which James had been +one, were turning out after a brief three-hours' spell of sleep. +Officers from the bathroom, girt in towels, wardroom servants who had +been laying the table for breakfast, one or two Warrant-officers in sea +boots and monkey jackets--the Watch-below, in short--appeared and +vanished from his field of vision like figures on a screen. In no +sense of the word, however, did the rush resemble a panic. The +aft-deck had seen greater haste on all sides in a scramble on deck to +cheer a troopship passing the cruiser's escort. But the variety of +dress and undress, the expressions of grim anticipation in each man's +face as he stumbled over the uneven deck, set Thorogood's reeling mind, +as it were, upon its feet. + +The Surgeon, pyjama clad, a crimson streak running diagonally across +the lather on his cheek, suddenly appeared crawling on all-fours +through the doorway of his shattered cabin. "I always said those +safety-razors were rotten things," he observed ruefully. "I've just +carved my initials on my face. And my ankle's broken. Have we been +torpedoed, or what, at all? An' what game is it you're playing under +that bath, James? Are you pretending to be an oyster?" + +Thorogood pulled himself together and stood up. "I think one of their +submarines must have bagged us." He nodded across the flat to where, +beyond the wrecked debris of three cabins, the cruiser's side gaped +open to a clear sky and a line of splashing waves. Overhead on deck +the twelve-pounders were barking out a series of ear-splitting +reports--much as a terrier might yap defiance at a cobra over the +stricken body of its master. + +"I think our number's up, old thing." Thorogood bent and slipped his +arms under the surgeon's body. "Shove your arms round my neck. . . . +Steady!--hurt you? Heave! Up we go!" A Midshipman, ascending the +hatchway, paused and turned back. Then he ran towards them, spattering +through the water that had already invaded the flat. + +"Still!" sang a bugle on deck. There was an instant's lull in the +stampede of feet overhead. The voices of the officers calling orders +were silent. The only sounds were the lapping of the waves along the +riven hull and the intermittent reports of the quick-firers. Then came +the shrill squeal of the pipes. + +"Fall in!" roared a voice down the hatchway. "Clear lower deck! Every +soul on deck!" The bugle rang out again. + +Thorogood staggered with his burden across the buckled plating of the +flat, and reached the hatchway. The Midshipman who had turned back +passed him, his face white and set. "Here!" called the Lieutenant from +the bottom of the ladder. "This way, my son! Fall in's the order!" +For a moment the boy glanced back irresolute across the flat, now ankle +deep in water. The electric light had been extinguished, and in the +greenish gloom between decks he looked a small and very forlorn figure. +He pointed towards the wreckage of the after-cabin, called something +inaudible, and, turning, was lost to view aft. + +"That's the 'Pay's' cabin," said the Doctor between his teeth. "He was +a good friend to that little lad. I suppose the boy's gone to look for +him, and the 'Pay' as dead as a haddock, likely as not." + +Thorogood deposited the Surgeon on the upper deck, fetched a lifebuoy, +and rammed it over the injured man's shoulders. "God forgive me for +taking it," said the latter gratefully, "but my fibula's cracked to +blazes, an' I love my wife . . ." + +All round them men were working furiously with knives and crowbars, +casting off lashings from boats and baulks of timber on the booms, +wrenching doors and woodwork from their fastenings--anything capable of +floating and supporting a swimmer. The officers were encouraging the +men with words and example, steadying them with cheery catch-words of +their Service, ever with an eye on the forebridge, at the extreme end +of which the Captain was standing. + +On the after shelter-deck the Gunner, bare-headed and clad only in a +shirt and trousers, was, single-handed, loading and firing a +twelve-pounder as fast as he could snap the breech to and lay the gun. +His face was distorted with rage, and his black brows met across his +nose in a scowl that at any other time would have suggested acute +melodrama. Half a mile away the shots were striking the water with +little pillars of white spray. + +The figure on the forebridge made a gesture with his arm. "Fall in!" +shouted the Commander. "Fall in, facing outboard, and strip! Stand by +to swim for it!" Seven hundred men--bluejackets, stokers, and +marines--hurriedly formed up and began to divest themselves of their +clothes. They were drawn up regardless of class or rating, and a burly +Marine Artilleryman, wriggling out of his cholera belt, laughed in the +blackened face of a stoker fresh from the furnace door. + +"Cheer up, mate!" he said encouragingly. "You'll soon 'ave a chance to +wash your bloomin' face!" + +The ship gave a sudden lurch, settled deeper in the water, and began to +heel slowly over. The Captain, clinging to the bridge rail to maintain +his balance, raised the megaphone to his mouth: + +"Carry on!" he shouted. "Every man for himself!"--he lowered the +megaphone and added between his teeth--"and God for us all!" + +The ship was lying over at an angle of sixty degrees, and the men were +clustered along the bulwarks and nettings as if loath to leave their +stricken home even at the eleventh hour. A muscular Leading Seaman was +the first to go--a nude, pink figure, wading reluctantly down the +sloping side of the cruiser, for all the world like a child paddling. +He stopped when waist deep and looked back. "'Ere!" he shouted, "'ow +far is it to Yarmouth? No more'n a 'undred an' fifty miles, is it? I +gotter aunt livin' there. . . ." + +Then came the rush, together with a roar of voices, shouts and cheers, +cries for help, valiant, quickly stifled snatches of "Tipperary," and, +over all, the hiss of escaping steam. + +"She wouldn't be 'arf pleased to see yer, Nobby!" shouted a voice above +the hubbub. "Not 'arf she wouldn't! Nah then, 'oo's for compulsory +bathin'. . . . Gawd! ain't it cold! . . ." + + * * * * * + +How he found himself in the water, Thorogood had no very clear +recollection; but by instinct he struck out through the welter of +gasping, bobbing heads till he was clear of the clutching menace of the +drowning. The Commander, clad simply in his wrist-watch and uniform +cap, was standing on the balsa raft, with scores of men hanging to its +support. "Get away from the ship!" he was bawling at the full strength +of his lungs. "Get clear before she goes----!" + +The stern of the cruiser rose high in the air, and she dived with +sickening suddenness into the grey vortex of waters. Pitiful cries for +help sounded on all sides. Two cutters and a few hastily constructed +rafts were piled with survivors; others swam to and fro, looking for +floating debris, or floated, reserving their strength. + +The cries and shouts grew fewer. + +Thorogood had long parted with his support--the broken loom of an +oar--and was floating on his back, when he found himself in close +proximity to two figures clinging to an empty breaker. One he +recognised as a Midshipman, the other was a bearded Chief Stoker. The +boy's teeth were chattering and his face was blue with cold. + +"W-w-what were you g-g-g-oing to have for b-b-b-breakfast in your +m-m-mess?" he was asking his companion in misfortune. + +Hang it all, a fellow of fifteen had to show somehow he wasn't afraid +of dying. + +"Kippers," replied the Chief Stoker, recognising his part and playing +up to it manfully. "I'm partial to a kipper, meself--an' fat +'am. . . ." + +The Midshipman caught sight of Thorogood, and raised an arm in +greeting. As he did so a sudden spasm of cramp twisted his face like a +mask. He relaxed his grasp of the breaker and sank instantly. + +The two men reappeared half a minute later empty handed, and clung to +the barrel exhausted. + +"It's all chalked up somewhere, I suppose," spluttered James, gasping +for his breath. + +"Child murder, sir, I reckon that is," was the tense reply. "That's on +their slop ticket all right. . . . 'Kippers,' I sez, skylarkin' +like . . . an' 'e sinks like a stone. . . ." + +Among the wavetops six hundred yards away a slender, upright object +turned in a wide circle and moved slowly northward. To the south a +cluster of smoke spirals appeared above the horizon, growing gradually +more distinct. The party in one of the cutters raised a wavering cheer. + +"Cheer up for Chatham!" shouted a clear voice across the grey waste of +water. "Here come the destroyers! . . . Stick it, my hearties!" + + * * * * * + +After a month's leave James consulted a specialist. He was a very wise +man, and his jerky discourse concerned shocked nerve-centres and reflex +actions. "That's all right," interrupted the thoroughly startled James +(sometime wing three-quarter for the United Services XV.), "but what +defeats me is not being able to cross a London street without 'coming +over all of a tremble'! An' when I try to light a cigarette"--he +extended an unsteady hand--"look! . . . I'm as fit as a fiddle, +really. Only the Medical Department won't pass me for service afloat. +An' I want to get back, d'you see? There's a super-Dreadnought +commissioning soon----" + +The specialist wrote cabalistic signs on a piece of paper. "Bracing +climate--East Coast for preference. . . . Plenty of exercise. Walk. +Fresh air. Early hours. Come and see me again in a fortnight, and get +this made up. That's all right"--he waved aside James's proffered +guineas. "Don't accept fees from naval or military. . . . Least we +can do is to mend you quickly. 'Morning. . . ." + +James descended the staircase, and passed a tall, lean figure in soiled +khaki ascending, whom the public (together with his wife and family) +had every reason to suppose was at that moment in the neighbourhood of +Ypres. + +"If it weren't for those fellows I couldn't be here," was his greeting +to the specialist. He jerked his grey, close-cropped head towards the +door through which Thorogood had just passed. + + + +2 + +A ramshackle covered cart laden with an assortment of tinware had +stopped on the outskirts of the village. The owner, a bent scarecrow +of a fellow, was effecting repairs to his nag's harness with a piece of +string. Evening was setting in, and the south-east wind swept a grey +haze across the coast road and sombre marshes. The tinker completed +first-aid to the harness, and stood at the front of the cart to light +his lamps. The first match blew out, and he came closer to the body of +the vehicle for shelter from the wind. + +At that moment a pedestrian passed, humming a little tune to himself, +striding along through the November murk with swinging gait. It may +have been that his voice, coming suddenly within range of the mare's +ears, conveyed a sound of encouragement. Perhaps the lights of the +village, twinkling out one by one along the street, suggested stables +and a nosebag. Anyhow, the tinker's nag threw her weight suddenly into +the collar, the wheel of the cart passed over the tinker's toe, and the +tinker uttered a sudden exclamation. + +In the circumstances it was a pardonable enough ebullition of feeling +and ought not to have caused the passing pedestrian to spin round on +his heel, astonishment on every line of his face. The next moment, +however, he recovered himself. "Did you call out to me?" he shouted. + +The tinker was nursing his toe, apparently unconscious of having given +anyone more food for thought than usual. "No," he replied gruffly. "I +'urt myself." + +The passer-by turned and pursued his way to the village. The tinker +lit his lamps and followed. He was a retiring sort of tinker, and +employed no flamboyant methods to advertise his wares. He jingled +through the village without attracting any customers--or apparently +desiring to attract any--and followed the sandy coast road for some +miles. + +At length he pulled up, and from his seat on the off-shaft sat +motionless for a minute, listening. The horse, as if realising that +its dreams of a warm stable were dreams indeed, hung its head +dejectedly, and in the faint gleam, of the lamp its breath rose in thin +vapour. The man descended from his perch on the shaft and, going to +his nag's head, turned the cart off the road. + +For some minutes the man and horse stumbled through the darkness; the +cart jolted, and the tin merchandise rattled dolefully. The tinker, +true to the traditions of his calling, swore again. Then he found what +he had been looking for, an uneven track that wound among the +sand-dunes towards the shore. The murmur of the sea became suddenly +loud and distinct. + +With a jerk the horse and cart came to a standstill. In a leisurely +fashion the tinker unharnessed his mare, tied a nosebag on her, and +tethered her to the tail of the cart. In the same deliberate manner he +rummaged about among his wares till he produced a bundle of sticks and +some pieces of turf. With these under his arm, he scrambled off across +the sand-hills to the sea. + +The incoming tide sobbed and gurgled along miniature headlands of rock +that stretched out on either side of a little bay. The sand-hills +straggled down almost to high-water mark, where the winter storms had +piled a barrier of kelp and debris. At one place a rough track down to +the shingle had been worn in the sand by the feet of fishermen using +the cove in fine weather during the summer. + +The tinker selected a site for his fire in a hollow that opened to the +sea. He built a hearth with flat stones, fetched a kettle from the +cart, kindled the fire, and busied himself with preparations for his +evening meal. This concluded, he laid a fresh turf of peat upon the +embers, banked the sand up all round till the faint glow was invisible +a few yards distant, and lit a pipe. + +The night wore on. Every now and again the man rose, climbed a +sand-hill, and stood listening, returning each time to his vigil by the +fire. At length he leaned forward and held the face of his watch near +the fire-glow. Apparently the time had come for action of some sort, +for he rose and made off into the darkness. When he reappeared he +carried a tin pannikin in his hand, and stood motionless by the fire, +staring out to sea. + +Ten minutes he waited; then, suddenly, he made an inaudible +observation. A light appeared out of the darkness beyond the headland, +winked twice, and vanished. The tinker approached his fire and swilled +something from his pannikin on to the glowing embers. A flame shot up +about three feet, and died down, flickering. The tin contained +paraffin, and three times the tinker repeated the strange rite. Then +he sat down and waited. + +A quarter of an hour passed before something grated on the shingle of +the beach, scarcely perceptible above the lap of the waves. The tinker +rose to his feet, shovelled the sand over the embers of his fire, and +descended the little path to the beach. The night was inky dark, and +for a moment he paused irresolute. Then a dark form appeared against +the faintly luminous foam, wading knee deep and dragging the bows of a +small skiff towards the shore. The tinker gave a low whistle, and the +wader paused. + +"_Fritz!_" he said guardedly. + +"_Ja! Hier!_" replied the tinker, advancing. + +"_Gott sei dank!_" said the other. He left the boat and waded ashore. +The two men shook hands. "Where's the cart?" asked the low voice in +German. + +"Among the sand-hills. You will want assistance. Have you more than +one with you in the boat?" + +"Yes." The new-comer turned and gave a brusque order. Another figure +waded ashore and joined the two men, a tall, bearded fellow in duffel +overalls. As his feet reached the sand he spat ostentatiously. The +tinker led the way to the cart. + +"It is dark," said the first man from the sea. "How many cans have you +got?" + +"Forty-eight. I could get no more without exciting suspicion. They +have requisitioned one of my cars as it is." + +The other gave a low laugh. "What irony! Well, that will last till +Friday. But you must try and get more then. I will be here at the +same time; no, the tide will not suit--at 8 a.m. We can come inside +then. Did you remember the cigarettes?" + +"Yes." The tinker climbed into the cart and handed a petrol tin down +to the speaker. "_Ein!_" he said. "Count them," and lifted out +another. "_Zwei!_" The third man, who had not hitherto spoken, +received them with a grunt, and set off down to the boat with his +burden. + +Eight times the trio made the journey to and from the beach. Three +times they waited while the tiny collapsible boat ferried its cargo out +to where, in the darkness, a long, black shadow lay, with the water +lapping round it, like a partly submerged whale. The last time the +tinker remained alone on the beach. + +He stood awhile staring out into the darkness, and at length turned to +retrace his steps. As he reached the shelter of the sand-dunes a tall +shadow rose out of the ground at his feet, and the next instant he was +writhing on his face in the grip of an exceedingly effective +neck-and-arm lock. + +"If you try to kick, my pippin," said the excited voice of James +Thorogood, "I shall simply break your arm--so!" + +The face in the sand emitted a muffled squark. + +"Keep still, then." + +The two men breathed heavily for a minute. + +"Don't swear, either. That's what got you into this trouble, that +deplorable habit of swearing aloud in German. But I will say, for a +tinker, you put a very neat West Country whipping on that bit of broken +harness. I've been admiring it. Didn't know they taught you that in +the German navy--_don't_ wriggle." + + + +3 + +James Thorogood, retaining a firm hold on his companion's arm, bent +down and gathered a handful of loose earth from a flower-bed at his +feet. The moonlight, shining fitfully through flying clouds, illumined +the face of the old house and the two road-stained figures standing +under its walls. It was a lonely, rambling building, partly sheltered +from the prevailing wind by a clump of poplars, and looking out down an +avenue bordered by untidy rhododendrons. + +"Won't Uncle Bill be pleased!" said James, and flung his handful of +earth with relish against one of the window-panes on the first floor. +He and his captive waited in silence for some minutes; then he repeated +the assault. Soon a light wavered behind the curtains, the sash +lifted, and a head and shoulders appeared. + +"Hallo!" said a man's voice. + +"Uncle Bill!" called James. There was a moment's silence. + +"Well?" said the voice again, patiently. + +"Uncle Bill! It's me--Jim. Will you come down and open the door? And +don't wake Janet, whatever you do." Janet was the housekeeper, stone +deaf these fifteen years. + +The head and shoulders disappeared. Again the light flickered, grew +dim, and vanished. "This way," said James, and led his companion round +an angle of the house into the shadow of the square Georgian porch. +The bolts were being withdrawn as they reached the steps, and a tall, +grey-haired man in a dressing-gown opened the door. He held a candle +above his head and surveyed the wayfarers through a rimless monocle. + +"Didn't expect you till to-morrow," was his laconic greeting. "Brought +a friend?" + +"He's not a friend exactly," said James, pushing his companion in +through the door, and examining him curiously by the light of the +candle. "But I'll tell you all about him later on. His name's Fritz. +D'you mind if I lock him in the cellar?" + +"Do," replied Uncle Bill dryly. He produced a bunch of keys from the +pocket of his dressing-gown. "It's the thin brass key. There's some +quite decent brandy in the farthest bin on the right-hand side, if +you're thinking of making a night of it down there. Take the candle; +I'm going back to bed." + +"Don't go to bed," called James from the head of the stairs. "I want +to have a yarn with you in a minute. Light the gas in the dining-room." + +Five minutes later he reappeared carrying a tray with cold beef, bread, +and a jug of beer upon it. Uncle Bill stood in front of the dead ashes +of his hearth considering his nephew through his eyeglass. "I hope you +made--er--Fritz comfortable? You look as if you had been doing a +forced march. Nerves better?" + +James set down his empty glass with a sigh and wiped his mouth. "As +comfortable as he deserves to be. He's a spy, Uncle Bill. I caught +him supplying petrol to a German submarine." + +"Really?" said Uncle Bill, without enthusiasm. "That brandy cost me +180s. a dozen. Wouldn't he be better in a police station? Have you +informed the Admiralty?" + +"I venerate the police," replied James flippantly, "and the Admiralty +are as a father and mother to me; but I want to keep this absolutely +quiet for a few days--anyhow, till after Friday. I couldn't turn Fritz +over to a policeman without attracting a certain amount of attention. +Anyhow, it would leak out if I did. I've walked eighteen miles already +since midnight, and it's another fifty-nine to the Admiralty from here. +Besides, unless I disguise Fritz as a performing bear, people would +want to know why I was leading him about on a rope's end----" + +"Start at the beginning," interrupted Uncle Bill wearily, "and explain, +avoiding all unnecessary detail." + +So James, between mouthfuls, gave a brief résumé of the night's +adventure, while Sir William Thorogood, Professor of Chemistry and +Adviser to the Admiralty on Submarine Explosives, stood and shivered on +the hearthrug. + +"And it just shows," concluded his nephew, "what a three-hours' swim in +the North Sea does for a chap's morals." He eyed his Uncle Bill +solemnly. "I even chucked the fellow's seamanship in his teeth!" + +Sir William polished his eyeglass with a silk handkerchief and replaced +it with care. + +"_Did_ you!" he said. + + + +4 + +A squat tub of a boat, her stern piled high with wicker crab-pots, came +round the northern headland and entered the little bay. The elderly +fisherman who was rowing rested on his oars and sat contemplating the +crab-pots in the stem. A younger man, clad in a jersey and sea boots, +was busy coiling down something in the bows. "How about this spot," he +said presently, looking up over his shoulder, "for the first one?" The +rower fumbled about inside his tattered jacket, produced something that +glistened in the sunlight, and screwed it into his eye. + +"Uncle Bill!" protested the younger fisherman, "do unship that thing. +If there _is_ anyone watching us, it will give the whole show away." + +Sir William Thorogood surveyed the harbour with an expressionless +countenance. "I consider that having donned these unsavoury +garments--did Janet bake them thoroughly, by the way?--I have already +forfeited my self-respect quite sufficiently. How much of the circuit +have you got off the drum?" + +"Six fathoms." + +"That's enough for the first, then." The speaker rose, lifted a +crab-pot with an effort, and tipped it over the side of the boat. The +cable whizzed out over the gunwale for a few seconds and stopped. +Uncle Bill resumed paddling for a little distance, and repeated the +manoeuvre eight times in a semi-circle round the inside of the bay, +across the entrance. "That's enough," he observed at length, as the +last crab-pot sank with a splash. "Don't want to break all their +windows ashore. These will do all they're intended to." He propelled +the boat towards the shore, while James paid out the weighted cable. +The bows of the boat grated on the shingle, and the elder man climbed +out. "Hand me the battery and the firing key--in that box under the +thwart there. Now bring the end of the cable along." + +As they toiled up the shifting flank of a sand-dune, James indicated a +charred spot in the sand. "That's where he showed the flare, Uncle +Bill." + +Uncle Bill nodded disinterestedly. Side by side they topped the tufted +crest of the dune and vanished among the sand-hills. + + * * * * * + +Somewhere across the marshes a church clock was striking midnight when +a big covered car pulled up at the roadside in the spot where, a few +nights before, the tinker's cart had turned off among the sand-hills. +The driver switched the engine off and extinguished the lights. Two +men emerged from the body of the car; one, a short, thick-set figure +muffled in a Naval overcoat, stamped up and down to restore his +circulation. "Is this the place?" he asked. + +"Part of it," replied the voice of Uncle Bill from the driving seat. +"My nephew will show you the rest. I shall stay here, if Jim doesn't +mind handing me the Thermos flask and my cigar-case--thanks." + +James walked round the rear of the car and began groping about in the +dry ditch at the roadside. + +"Don't say you can't find it, Jim," said Sir William. He bent forward +to light his cigar, and the flare of the match shone on his dress +shirt-front and immaculate white tie. He refastened his motoring coat, +and leaned back puffing serenely. + +"Got it!" said a voice from the ditch, and James reappeared, carrying a +small box and trailing something behind him. He held it out to the +short man with gold oak leaves round his cap-peak. His hand trembled +slightly. + +"Here's the firing key, sir!" + +"Oh, thanks. Let's put it in the sternsheets of the car till I come +back. I'd like to have a look at the spot." + +"You'll get your boots full of sand," said Uncle Bill's voice under the +hood. + +James lifted a small sack and an oil-can out of the motor, and the two +figures vanished side by side into the night. + +Half an hour later the elder man reappeared. "He's going to blow a +whistle," he observed, and climbed into the body of the car, where Sir +William was now sitting under a pile of rugs. He made room for the +new-comer. + +"Have some rug . . . and here's the foot-warmer. . . . I see. And +then you--er--do the rest? The box is on the seat beside you." + +The other settled down into his seat and tucked the rug round himself. +"Thanks," was the grim reply. "Yes, I'll do the rest!" He lit a pipe, +and smoked in silence, as if following a train of thought. "My boy +would have been sixteen to-morrow. . . ." + +"Ah!" said Uncle Bill. + +An hour passed. The Naval man refilled and lit another pipe. By the +light of the match he examined his watch. "I suppose you tested the +contacts?" he asked at length in a low voice. + +"Yes," was the reply, and they lapsed into silence again. The other +shifted his position slightly and raised his head, staring into the +darkness beyond the road whence came the faint, continuous murmur of +the sea. + +Seaward a faint gleam of light threw into relief for an instant the +dark outline of a sand-dune, and sank into obscurity again. + +Uncle Bill's eyeglass dropped against the buttons of his coat with a +tinkle. The grim, silent man beside him lifted something on to his +knees, and there was a faint click like the safety-catch of a gun being +released. + +A frog in the ditch near by set up a low, meditative croaking. Uncle +Bill raised his head abruptly. Their straining ears caught the sound +of someone running, stumbling along the uneven track that wound in from +the shore. A whistle cut the stillness like a knife. + +There was a hoarse rumble seaward that broke into a deafening roar, and +was succeeded by a sound like the bursting of a dam. The car rocked +with the concussion, and the fragments of the shattered wind-screen +tinkled down over the bonnet and footboard. + +Then utter, absolute silence. + + + + +II + +THE DRUM + +1 + +Ole Jarge put down the baler and wiped the perspiration from his +forehead. A few fish scales transferred themselves from the back of +his oakum-coloured hand to his venerable brow. + +"'Tain't no use," he murmured. "'Er's nigh twenty year' ole--come nex' +month. Tar ain't no use neither. 'Tis new strakes 'ers wantin'." He +thumbed the seams of the old boat that lay on the shingle, with the +outgoing tide still lapping round her stern. "An' new strakes do cost +tarrible lot." He sat puffing his clay pipe, and transferred his gaze +from the bottom of the boat to the whitewashed cottages huddled under +the lee of the cliffs. A tall figure was moving about the nets that +festooned the low wall in front of the cottages. + +Ole Jarge removed his pipe from his mouth, substituted two fingers of +his right hand, and gave a long, shrill whistle. It was a +disconcerting performance. For one thing, you associated the trick +with irrepressible boyhood, and, for another, the old man squinted +slightly as he did it. As a matter of fact, he had learned it on the +Dogger Bank fifty years before; fog-bound in a dory, it was a useful +accomplishment. + +Young Jarge straightened up, raised one hand in acknowledgment of the +summons, and came crunching slowly across the shingle towards the boat. +Ole Jarge sat smoking in philosophical silence till his son was beside +him. Then he removed his pipe and spat over the listed gunwale. + +"'Er's daid," he observed laconically. + +Young Jarge bent stiffly and tapped the seams, inside and out, much as +a veterinary surgeon runs his hand over a horse's legs. + +"Ya-a-is," he confirmed, and sat down on the stem of the old boat. +"'Er's very nigh's ole 's what us be," he added, after a pause, and +began shredding some tobacco into the palm of his hand. + +Ole Jarge nodded. Then he lifted his head quickly. "'Er's bound to +last 'nother year." For the first time there was concern in his voice. +Adversity does not grip the mind of the Cornish fisherfolk suddenly. +It filters slowly through the chinks of the armour God has given them. +Cornish men (and surely Cornish maids) were kind to the survivors of +the wrecked Armada. It may be that they, in their turn, bequeathed a +strain of Southern fatalism to many of their benefactors. + +"'Er's bound to," repeated Ole Jarge. He got ponderously out of the +boat and removed a tattered sou'wester to scratch his head with his +thumbnail--another trick that had survived the adventurous days of the +Dogger Bank. + +The unfamiliar note of anxiety in his father's voice stirred Young +Jarge. He rose to his feet with perplexity in his dark eyes, +mechanically pulling up the bleached leather thigh-boots he wore afloat +and ashore, "rainy-come-fine." + +Inspiration had come, as it does to men of the West once the need is +realised to the full. + +"Du 'ee mind that there li'l' ole copper boiler--what come out o' +granfer's house when 'er blawed down--back tu '98?" asked Young Jarge +slowly. + +Ole Jarge nodded. + +"S'pose us was to hammer 'n out flat like an' nail un down to bottom, +'long wi' oakum an' drop o' white lead--what du 'ee say?" + +Ole Jarge silently measured the area of the sprunk strakes with the +stumpy thumb and little finger of an outstretched hand. Then he +puckered his forehead and stared out to sea, apparently making mental +calculations connected with the "li'l' ole copper boiler." + +"Ya-a-ais." He replaced the piece of perished tarpaulin that had once +been a sou'-wester on his head, and set off slowly across the shingle +towards the village. Young Jarge followed, staring at his boots as he +walked. + +"Us 'll hammer 'n out after tea," said Ole Jarge over his shoulder. +His great, great, very great grandfather would have said "_Mañana!_" + + * * * * * + +The setting sun had tipped the dancing wavelets with fire and was +glowing red in each pool left by the receding tide when Ole Jarge +emerged from his cottage door. In one hand he carried a hammer, and in +the other a tin of white lead. Young Jarge joined him with a small, +square copper boiler in his arms. + +"Where'll us put un tu, feyther?" + +Ole Jarge set off across the beach in the direction of the boat. +"Bring un along!" he commanded in a manner dimly suggestive of a lord +high executioner. + +Young Jarge followed, and dumped his burden down alongside the boat. + +"Now!" said Ole Jarge grimly. He spat on his hands and prepared to +enjoy himself. Bang! bang! bang-a-bang! bang! went the hammer. Young +Jarge sat down on the gunwale of the boat and contemplated his parent's +exertions. + +"It du put Oi in mind of a drum," he said appreciatively. + + + +2 + +"Now we can talk!" Margaret settled her back comfortably against a +ridge of turf and closed her eyes for a moment. + +"Isn't it heavenly up here? The wind smells of seaweed, and there must +be some shrub or flower----" She opened her eyes and looked along the +cliffs, "There's something smelling divinely. Wild broom, is it?" + +Her gaze travelled along the succession of ragged headlands and +crescents of sand formed by each little bay of the indented coast. The +coastguard track, a brown thread winding adventurously among the clumps +of gorse at the very edge of the cliffs, drew her eyes farther and +farther to the west. In the far distance the track dipped sharply over +a headland where the whitewashed coastguard station stood, and was lost +to view. She turned and smiled at her companion. "Now we can talk," +she repeated. + +Torps, sitting beside her, met her eyes with his grave, gentle smile. +"I'm so glad to see you again," he said, "that I can't think of +anything else to say. It was nice of you to write and tell me you were +here." + +As if by common consent, they had discussed nothing but generalities +during the half-hour's walk that brought them to this sheltered hollow +in the cliffs. The woman was, of the two, the more reluctant to bridge +the years that lay between to-day and their last meeting. Yet, +womanlike, it was she that spoke first. + +"I knew your ship was quite close. I wanted to see you again, Trevor, +after all these years. Tell me about yourself. Your letters--yes, I +know; but you never talked much about yourself in your letters." + +He shook his head quietly. "No, you tell first." + +"There isn't much to tell." She interlaced her fingers round her +updrawn knees. Her grey eyes were turned to the sea, and Torps watched +her profile against the sky wistfully, studying the pure brow, the +threads of silver appearing here and there in her soft brown hair, the +strong, almost boyish lines of mouth and chin. _En profile_, thus, she +looked very like a handsome boy. + +"I've been teaching at one of those training institutes for girls on +the East Coast. The principal, Miss Dacre is her name"--Margaret +paused as if expecting some comment from her companion: none +came--"Pauline Dacre; she was at school with mother: they were great +friends; and when mother died she offered me a home. . . . I had a +little money--enough to go through a course of training. I learned +things----" + +"What sort of things?" + +"Oh, cooking and laundry, and hygiene--domestic science it's called." +Torps nodded. "And then, when I knew enough to teach others, I went +to--to this place; I've been there ever since. And that's all. Now +it's your turn." + +Torps studied the traces of overwork and strain which showed in the +faintly accentuated cheekbones and which painted little tired shadows +about her eyelids. + +"No, it's not all. Why have you come down here?" + +"I--I----" She coloured as if accused. "I got a little run down . . . +that was all. But I've saved some money; I can afford a rest. I'm +what is called 'an independent gentlewoman of leisure' for a while." +She laughed, a gay little laugh. + +"Do you mean you are going back there again?" + +She looked at him with frank surprise. "Of course I am, silly!" + +"Don't go back . . . not to that life again. How can you? Shut up in +a sort of convent. . . . You can't be a school-marm all your life; you +were meant for other things. . . . I suppose you have to sleep on a +hard bed, and get up in the dark when a bell rings. There aren't any +carpets, and they don't give you enough to eat, as likely as not. +Margaret, why should you? It's the sort of work anyone can do-teaching +kids to mangle." + +"But . . . what do you think I am going to do with the remainder of my +days--crochet? embroider slippers for the curate? Trevor, you wouldn't +like me to come to that in my old age, would you?" She spoke with +gentle banter, as if to fend off something she feared. Had Torps known +it, she was fencing for the happiness of them both. + +He shook his head gravely. + +"I hoped--because you had written to me--that you weren't going +back. . . ." His thin, strong hand closed over hers, resting on the +turf between them. He bent his head as if considering their fingers. +"Margaret, dear----" + +"Ah, Trevor, don't--please don't. . . . Not again. I thought all that +was dead and buried years ago. And do you really think"--she smiled a +little sadly--"if I--if things were different--that I should have +written to ask you to meet me to-day? Have you learned so little of +women in all these years?" There was something besides sadness in her +eyes now: a wistful, half-maternal tenderness. He raised his head. + +"I've learned nothing about women, Margaret, but what I learned from +you." + +She gently withdrew her hand. "Trevor, we're not children any longer. +We're older and wiser. We----" + +"We're older--yes. But I don't see what that has to do with it, except +that my need is greater. . . . I'm a little lonelier. There's never +been anyone but you. I've never looked across the road at a woman in +my life--except you. I know we're not children, and for that reason we +ought to know our own minds. Do you know yours, Margaret?" + +Margaret bowed her head, collecting her thoughts and setting them in +order, before she answered: + +"It isn't easy to say what I have to say. You must be +patient--generous, as you can be, Trevor, of all the men I know." She +hesitated and coloured again a little. "You say you want me. If there +were no one else who I thought had a greater claim, you should--no, +hush! listen, dear--I would give you--what you want . . . gladly--oh, +gladly! But the children need me--my influence. . . . Miss Dacre said +it is doing the highest service one could for the Empire . . . theirs +is the higher claim. Can you understand? Oh, can you?" + +Torps made no reply, staring out to sea with sombre eyes. + +Gaining confidence with his silence, she continued the shy unfolding of +her ideals. "Nothing is too good for boys; no training is high enough, +because they are to be the builders and upholders of our Empire. Don't +you think that little girls, who are destined some day to be the mates +of these boys, should be prepared in a way that will make them worthy +of their share of the inheritance? They have to be taught ideals of +honour and courage and intelligent patriotism, so that they can help +and encourage their men in years to come. They must learn to cook and +sew, learn the laws of Nature and hygiene, so that they can make the +home not 'an habitation enforced'--as it is for so many women--but a +place where they may with all honour bring into the world other little +girls and boys. . . ." She drew her breath quickly. "Ah, that is not +a thing anyone can do, teaching all that! It must be someone who gives +all--and who gives herself gladly . . . as I have." + +Torps turned his head as if to speak, but checked himself. + +"Don't think I am setting myself upon a pedestal. Don't think my heart +is too anaemic to--to care for you, and that I am trying to shelter +myself behind talk of a life's mission. Oh!" she cried, "be generous. +Don't try to make it harder." + +She leaned towards him a little as he sat with lowered eyes. "This is +a time of grave anxiety, isn't it?" she continued gently, as if +explaining something to an impatient child. "You naval men ought to +know. There is talk of war everywhere--of war with Germany. They say +we are on the brink of it to-day." Torps nodded. "Supposing it came +now . . . and you were recalled. How do they recall you? Sound a +bugle--beat a drum?" + +Torps smiled faintly. "Something of the sort--no, not a drum; a bugle, +perhaps." + +"Well, we'll suppose it is a drum. One somehow associates it with war +and alarms. Would you hesitate to obey?" Torps refrained from the +obvious answer and plucked a grass-stem to put between his teeth. "You +would obey, wouldn't you, because it is your duty--however much you'd +like to sit here with me? Will you try to realise that I shall be only +answering the drum, too, when--I go back." + +The breeze that strayed about the floor of the Channel fanned their +faces and set the bright sea-poppies nodding all along the edge of the +cliffs. The sun was low in the west, and a snake-like flotilla of +destroyers crept out across the quiet sea from the harbour hidden by a +fold in the hills. Torps watched them with absent eyes, and there was +a long silence. The wind had loosened a strand of his companion's +hair, and she was busy replacing it with deft fingers. + +"Margaret," he replied at last, "you said just now that I understood +very little about women. I think you are right. Perhaps if I +understood more I might know how to muffle the drum so that you +wouldn't hear it. I might have learned to pipe a tune that would make +you not want to hear it. . . . I don't know. . . . But I accept all +you say--although deep down in my heart I know you are wrong. There +will come a day when you, too, will know you are wrong. I shall come +back then. And till then, since I must"--he smiled in a whimsical, sad +way that somehow relaxed the tension--"I lend you to the children." + +She returned his smile quite naturally, with relief in her eyes. "Dear +Trevor, yes . . . because they need me so. . . . Believe me, I am not +wrong: and we keep our friendship still, sweet and sane----" She broke +off suddenly and raised a slim forefinger, holding her head sideways to +listen, the way women and birds and children seem to hear better. +"Hark! Did you hear? How odd! Listen, Trevor!" + +Torps brought himself back with an effort. "Hear what?" + +"Listen!" + +He listened. + +"I can hear the waves along the shingle." + +"No, no. . . . There--now!" + +"Oh! . . . Yes, I can hear. . . . It sounds like a drum." + +"Trevor, it _is_ a drum, somewhere out at sea! How odd when we were +just talking about drums--hush! Oh, do listen. . . ." + +The sound, borne to them on the light wind, seemed to grow nearer; then +it waned till they could scarcely catch the beats. Anon it swelled +louder: the unmistakable "Dub! dub! rub-a-dub! dub! . . . Dub! dub! +dub!" of a far-off drum. + +Margaret shook his sleeve. "Of course it's a drum. It can't be +anything else, can it?" + +"It's Drake's Drum!" he replied, with mock solemnity. "There's a +legend in the West Country, you know----" + +"I know!" She nodded, bright eyed with interest, and rose to a +kneeling position to gaze beneath her palms out towards the west. The +sun had set, and a thin grey haze slowly veiled the horizon. Already +the warm afterglow was dying out of the sky. + +"He has 'quit the Port of Heaven,'" she quoted half-seriously, playing +with superstition as only women can, "and he's 'drumming up the +Channel'! They say it foretells war . . . that noise. . . ." Margaret +gave a little shiver and rose to her graceful height, extending both +her ringless hands to him. "It's getting chilly--come!" + +Torps rose to his feet, too, and for a moment faced her, with his +grave, patient eyes on hers. For the first time she noticed that his +hair was going grey about the temples, and, had he known it, Margaret +came very near to wavering in that moment. Perhaps he did realise, and +with quick, characteristic generosity helped her. + +"I think I understand," he said, "something of their need--the need of +the children for such as you. It--it----" He turned abruptly towards +the sea. The noise that resembled a distant drum had ceased, and there +was only the faint surge of the waves on the beaches far below. + +It was the only sound in all the land and sea. + + * * * * * + +In the whitewashed coastguard station a mile away the bearded occupant +on duty was finishing his tea. The skeleton of a herring lay on the +side of his plate, the centre of which the boatman was scouring with a +piece of bread (preparatory to occupying it with damson jam), when the +telephone bell rang. A man of economical habits, he put the bread in +his mouth, and, rising from the table, picked up the receiver. + +"_. . . Portree Signal Station--Yes._" + +"_. . . 'Oo? Yes._" + +He stood motionless with the receiver to his ear, his jaws moving +mechanically about the last of the piece of bread. Outside the little +room the wind thrummed in the halliards of the signal-mast. The clock +over the desk ticked out the deliberate seconds. A cat, curled up by +the window, rose, stretching itself, and yawned. + +"_. . . Prepare to mobilise. All officers and men are recalled from +leave. Detailed orders will follow. Right. Good-bye._" + +He replaced the receiver and rang off. Then, still masticating, he +executed a species of solemn war-dance in the middle of the floor. + +"Crikey!" he said aloud. "That means war, that do! Bloody war!" + +He snatched up a telescope and ran outside, still talking aloud to +himself after the manner of men who live much alone. "I see a bloke +an' 'is young woman along there this afternoon. I'd ha' said he was a +naval orficer if anyone was to ask me." He scanned the hills through +his glass for a moment, and then set off along the track that skirted +the edge of the cliffs. + +Margaret saw him first, a broad, blue-clad figure, threading his way +among the furze bushes. "And you won't be unhappy, will you, Trevor?" +she was saying. "You will understand, you----" She broke off to watch +the coastguard hurrying towards them. "Does that sailor want to speak +to us, do you think? He seems in a great hurry." + +Torps stood at her side staring. + +The coastguard drew near, wiping his face with a vast blue and white +spotted handkerchief, for he had been running. "Beg pardon, sir," he +called as he came within earshot, "but would you be a naval officer?" + +"I am," replied Torps. "Why?" + +The man saluted. "There's a telephone message just come through, sir, +'Prepare to mobilise. All officers and men are recalled from leave.'" + +Torps stared at him. "Where did it come from--the message?" + +"From the port, sir. I was to warn anyone I saw out this way . . ." + +"Right; thank you. I'm going back now." He turned towards Margaret. +"Did you hear that?" There was a queer note of relief in his voice. + +"Yes," she replied quietly. "The Drum." + + + + +III + +A CAPTAIN'S FORENOON + +The Captain came out of his sleeping-cabin as the last chord of the +National Anthem died away on the quarter-deck overhead with the roll of +kettledrums. + +"Carry on!" sang the bugle; and the ship's company, their animation +suspended while the colours crept up the jackstaff, proceeded to +"breakfast and clean." The signalman whose duty it was to hoist the +Ensign at 8 a.m. turned up the halliards to his satisfaction, and +departed forward in the wake of the band. + +The Captain had "cleaned" already, and his breakfast was on the table +in his fore-cabin. He sat down, glanced at the pile of letters beside +his plate, propped the morning paper against the teapot, and commenced +his meal. He ate with the deliberate slowness of a man accustomed to +having meals in solitude, who has schooled himself not to abuse his +digestion. + +As he ate his quick eye travelled over the headlines of the paper, +occasionally concentrating on a paragraph here and there. Ten minutes +sufficed to give him a complete grasp of the day's affairs. The naval +appointments he read carefully. His memory for names and individuals +was unfailing; he never forgot anyone who had served under his command, +and followed the careers of most with interest. His daily private +correspondence, which was large, testified to the fact that not many +forgot him. + +Breakfast over, he laid aside the paper, lit a cigarette, and turned +over the little pile of letters, identifying the writers with a glance +at the handwriting on each envelope. Only one was unknown to him: that +he placed last, and carried them into the after-cabin to read, leaning +his shoulder against the mantel of the tiled and brass-bound fireplace. + +The first letter he opened was from his wife, and, in consequence, its +contents were nobody's affair but his own. He read it twice, and +smiled as he returned it to the envelope. + +The next, written on thick notepaper stamped with the Admiralty crest, +he also read twice, and mused awhile. Apparently this also was +nobody's concern but his, for, still deep in thought, he tore it up and +put the pieces in the fire before taking up the third. This was an +appeal for assistance from a former watch-keeper who aspired to the +Flying Corps. The next was also a request for assistance from a young +officer, who, having recently taken a wife to his bosom, apparently +considered the achievement a qualification for the command of one of +H.M. torpedo-boat destroyers. + +The Captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I sent him a silver +photograph frame. . . . He'll want me to be godfather next." He +occasionally spoke aloud when alone. + +An appeal for funds for a memorial to someone or another followed. +Then two advertisements from wine merchants and a statement of his +account with his outfitter were consigned in turns into the fire. The +last envelope, in the unknown hand, he scrutinised for a moment before +opening. The postmark was local, the caligraphy illiterate. He opened +the letter and read it with an inscrutable face. Then, with a quick +movement as of disgust, he crumpled it up and threw it into the flames. +It was anonymous, and was a threat, couched in lurid and ensanguined +terms, to murder him. + +Judges, and post-captains of the Royal Navy, perhaps as a reminder of +their great responsibilities, occasionally receive communications of +this nature. Their life insurance policies, however, appear to remain +much the same as those of other people. + + * * * * * + +The after-cabin, where the Captain perused his correspondence, was an +airy, chintz-upholstered apartment leading aft through two heavy steel +doors on to the stern-walk. The doors were open on that particular +morning, and the high, thin cries of seagulls quarrelling under the +stern drifted through almost unceasingly. + +Forward, the white-enamelled bulkhead was pierced by two entrances. +One led from a diminutive sleeping-cabin and bathroom, the other from +the fore-cabin, which the Captain had just quitted, and which in turn +communicated with a lobby where a marine sentry paced day and night. + +The after-cabin was lit by a skylight overhead and scuttles in the +ship's side. The sunlight, streaming in through the starboard ones, +winked on the butterfly clamps of burnished brass and small rods from +which the little chintz curtains hung. A roll-topped desk occupied a +corner near the fireplace, and round the bulkheads, affixed to white +enamelled battens, hung water-colour paintings of his ships. A sloop +of war under full sail; a brig, close-hauled, beating out of Plymouth +Sound; a tiny gunboat at anchor in a backwater of the Upper Yangtse. +There were spick-and-span cruisers; a quaint, top-heavy looking +battleship that in her day had been considered the last word in naval +construction, and whose name to-day provokes reminiscences from the +older generation and from the younger half-dubious smiles; then, near +the door, came modern men-of-war of familiar aspect. They represented +the milestones of a long career. + +A chart lay folded on a table in the centre of the cabin, with a pair +of dividers and a parallel ruler lying on it. Another table stood in a +corner near the door--a small, glass-topped table such as collectors of +curios gather their treasures in. The contents of this table, however, +were not curios in the strict sense of the word. A number of them were +very commonplace objects, but each one held its particular associations. + +You will find just such a collection of insignificant mysteries in a +boy's pocket or a jackdaw's nest. Bits of string, a marble polished by +friction, a piece of coloured glass, an old nail--in themselves +rubbish, but doubtless linking the possessor to some amiable memory, +and cherished for no better reason. + +Some men retain this instinct of boyhood. But whereas the boy is +secretive and reticent about the particular associations his pocket +holds, the man will talk about his hoard. + +In the glass-topped table in that corner of the after-cabin were ties +with all the seven seas and the shores they wash. Mementoes of folly +or friendship, sport or achievement; fragments of the mosaic that is +life. + +A bit of brick from the Great Wall of China recalled a bag of geese in +the clear cold dusk of Northern Asia. Memories, too, of the whaler's +beat back to the fleet in the teeth of a rising gale that swept in from +the Pacific, when the bravest unlaced his boots and they baled with the +empty guncase. + +There was a piece of the sacred pavement of Mecca, brought back in the +days when few Europeans had brought anything back from there--even +their lives. A gold medal in a morocco-leather case, won by an essay +that had called for months of unrelaxed study. A copper bangle from +the wrist of a Korean dancing-girl (it was somebody else's story, +though). A wooden ju-ju from Benin, dark-stained and repulsive; a tiny +clay godling that had guarded the mummied heart of an Egyptian queen. +A flint arrow-head picked up on Dartmoor during a long summer tramp +after the speckled trout. A jewelled cigarette-case, gift of an +empress who could give no more than that, however much she may have +wanted to. + +Rubbish, all rubbish. Yet occasionally, when two or three +post-captains, contemporaries and fleet-mates, gathered here to smoke +after-dinner cigars, the host would unlock the glass-topped table, +select some object from his miscellany, and hold it up with a "D'you +remember----?" And one or other of his guests--sometimes all of +them--would laugh and nod and blow great clouds of smoke and slide into +eager reminiscence. Yesterday is the playground of all men's hearts, +but more especially those of sailor men. These odds and ends were only +keys that unlocked the gate. + +A few photographs stood on the shelf above the hearth. Some books +occupied a revolving bookcase within reach of anyone sitting at the +desk; not very interesting books: old Navy Lists, a "King's +Regulations," a "Manual of Court Martial Procedure," one or two volumes +on International Law, and a treatise on so-called 'modern' +seamanship--which, by the way, is a misnomer, seamanship, like love, +being of all time. + +The revolving bookcase supported a bowl of flowers. The Captain's +Coxswain had personally arranged them that morning; had, in fact, had a +slight difference of opinion with the Captain's valet (conducted _sotto +voce_) over the method of their arrangement. The Coxswain won on the +claim of being a married man and understanding mysteries beyond the ken +of bachelors. The result in either case would have brought tears to +the eyes of any woman. + + * * * * * + +The Captain finished his cigarette and opened the roll-topped desk, +slipped his letters into a pigeon-hole, and closed the desk again. As +he did so the Commander entered the cabin, tucking his cap under his +arm. + +"Nine o'clock, sir; all ready for divisions. The Chaplain is +sick--will you read prayers?" + +"Sick, is he? What's the matter?" + +"He twisted his knee yesterday playing football. The Fleet Surgeon has +made him lie up." + +The Captain nodded. "All right; I'll read them." As the Commander +turned to go he spoke again: "By the way, that fellow I gave ninety +days to yesterday--was there a woman in the case, d'you happen to know? +There was nothing in the evidence, of course, but I wondered----" + +The Commander paused while the busy brain searched among its dockets. +The man whose business it is as Executive Officer to control the +affairs of close on a thousand of his fellow men must of necessity +sometimes learn curiously intimate details of their lives. + +"Yes; the Master-at-Arms mentioned to me that a woman was at the bottom +of it. She's a wrong 'un, I understand." + +"Thank you." + +The Commander went out, and a moment later the bugle overhead blazed +forth "Divisions." + +"I thought it was a woman's writing," added the Captain musingly. + +"Divisions correct, sir!" The Commander saluted and made his report. + +The Captain returned the salute briskly. "Sound the 'Close.'" + +The bugle sounded again, the bell began to toll for prayers, and the +band on the after shelter-deck struck up a lively march as the men came +aft. + +Anyone interested in the study called physiognomy might with advantage +have taken his stand at this moment on the after part of the +quarter-deck, where the shadow of the White Ensign curved and flickered +across the planking. Perhaps the Captain, who stood there, was himself +a student of the art. At any rate, as the men marched aft through the +screen doors his level eyes passed from face to face, reflective, +observant, intensely alert. + +The last division reached its allotted position on the quarter-deck, +turned inboard, and stood easy. The band stopped abruptly. The bell +ceased tolling. In the brief ensuing silence the Commander's voice was +clearly audible as he made his report. + +"Everybody aft, sir." + +The Captain slipped a small prayer-book out of a side pocket. The +Commander gave a curt order, and five hundred heads bared to the +sunlight. + +"Stand easy!" + +There is much beauty in the sonorous periods of the English Rubric. +Read in the strong, clear voice of a man who for thirty years had known +calm and tempest, sunset and dawn at sea, the familiar words--of appeal +and praise alike--assumed somehow an unwonted significance; and when he +closed the book, slipped it back into his pocket, and looked up, the +face he raised was the face of one who, whatever else his creed had +taught him, found in all success the answer to some prayer, in every +disaster a call to courage and high endeavour. + + * * * * * + +Down in the after-cabin, five minutes later, the Fleet Surgeon handed +the sick-list to the Captain, who read it with care. For the first +time that day his brow clouded. The two men looked at one another. + +"It is heavy," said the Fleet Surgeon; "but----" He made an +imperceptible upward movement of the shoulders, for his mother had been +French. + +For some moments after he had gone the Captain stood staring out +through the after doorway. A barge, heavily freighted, was passing +slowly down-stream. His eyes followed the brown sail absently as long +as it was within his field of vision. The anger had gone from his brow +and left a shadow of sadness. + +"'_Si j'etais Dieu_,'" he murmured, following some train of thought and +musing aloud as was his habit. Then, still in a brown study, he opened +the roll-topped desk and pressed a bell. + +"Tell Mr. Gerrard I'll sign papers," he said to the marine sentry who +appeared in the doorway. + +"Double-O" Gerrard (so called because he wore glasses with circular +lenses and his name made you think of telephones) answered the summons, +carrying a sheaf of papers. He was the Captain's Clerk: that is to +say, the junior accountant officer, detailed by the Captain to conduct +his official correspondence and perform secretarial work generally. +The position is not one commonly sought after, but Double-O Gerrard +appeared to enjoy his duties, and as a badge of office carried a +perpetual inkstain on the forefinger-tip of his right hand. + +The Captain sat down at his desk with a little sigh. If the truth be +known, he had small relish for this business of "papers." He picked up +his pen and examined the nib. + +"Do you ever use your pen to clean a pipe out?" he asked his Clerk. + +"Oh no, sir." + +"I suppose it depends on the nib one uses whether it suffers much." +With a piece of blotting paper the Captain removed fragments of tobacco +ash and nicotine from the nib, and dipped it in the ink. "It doesn't +seem to hurt mine. Now then, what have we got here?" + +A quarter of an hour later he pushed aside the last of the pile of +documents and lit a cigarette with the air of a man who had earned a +smoke. + +"Any defaulters?" + +"No, sir, none for you to-day." + +"Humph! Tell the Commander I'll buy him a pair of white kid gloves +when I go ashore. Request-men?" + +His Clerk placed a book upon the desk open at a list of names. The +Captain ran down them with a pencil. + +"Badges, all entitled? . . . Stop allotment--who does he allot to? +Mother? . . . Restoration to first class for leave. . . . To be rated +Leading Seaman--Jones. Jones? Oh, yes, I know: youngster in the +quarter-deck division with a broken nose. The Commander spoke to me +about him." The pencil slowly descended to the bottom of the page, +ticking off each man's request as it was gone into and explained. He +stopped at the last one. "'To see Captain about private affairs.' +What's his trouble?" + +"I don't know, sir. He put in his request to see you through the +Master-at-Arms. He didn't say what it was about." + +The Captain closed the book. "All seamen, eh? No Marine request-men?" + +"No, sir." + +"Right. I'll see 'em at eleven." The Clerk gathered the papers +together and departed. As he went out there was a tap at the door. +The Captain frowned. The tap was repeated. + +"Don't knock," he called out. "If you've got anything to report, come +in and report it." + +The Chief Yeoman of Signals entered with an embarrassed air. He was +new to the ship, and, as everyone knows, all captains have their little +peculiarities. Here he was up against one right away. He'd never had +much luck. + +"I don't want anyone to knock when they come into my cabin on duty. +I'm not a young woman in her boudoir." + +"Aye, aye, sir," said the Chief Yeoman. "Signal log, sir." + + * * * * * + +"Don't forget now," counselled the Master-at-Arms to the request-men +fallen in on the starboard side of the quarter-deck. "When your names +is called out, step smartly up to the table, an' keep your caps on. +You salutes when you steps up to the table an' when you leaves it." + +The request-men, who had heard all this a good many times before, +sucked their teeth in acquiescence. + +The Captain was walking up and down the other side of the deck talking +to the Commander. They turned together and came towards the table. +The Captain's Clerk opened the request-book and laid it before the +Captain. + +"'Erbert Reynolds," intoned the Master-at-Arms in a stentorian voice. +"Able seaman. Requests award of first Good Conduct Badge." + +The Captain put his finger on the first name at the top of the page, +glanced keenly at the applicant, and nodded. "Granted." + +"Granted," echoed the Chief of Police, and Able Seaman Reynolds +departed with authority to wear on his left arm the triangular red +badge that vouched to his exemplary behaviour for the last three years. + +Five others followed in quick succession with similar requests, and +trotted forward again at a dignified and amiable gait through the +screen door. + +"To stop allotment." The Captain raised his head. + +"Who do you allot to?" + +"Me mother, sir." + +"Doesn't she want it?" + +The request-man was a young stoker, little more than a boy, and his +eyes were troubled. + +"She don't deserve it," he replied; "she drinks, sir. I got letters +from fr'en's----" He thrust his hand inside the breast of his jumper +and produced his sad evidence--a letter from a clergyman, one or two +from lay-workers in some north-country slum, and one from his mother +herself, an incoherent, abusive scrawl, with liquor stains still upon +the creased paper. + +"I send 'er my 'arf-pay reg'lar ever since I were in the Navy, sir. +But she ain't goin' ter 'ave no more." He made the statement without +heat or sorrow. + +"Stopped," said the Captain, with a nod. + +"Allotment stopped," repeated the Master-at-Arms, and the allotter +passed forward out of sight to whatever destiny awaited him. + +"To be rated Leading Seaman, sir." + +A tall, young Able Seaman stepped forward and fixed eyes of a clear +blue on the Captain's face. + +The Captain met his gaze, and for a moment threw all the weight of +thirty years' experience of men into the scales of judgment. "There is +a vacancy for a Leading Seaman's rate in the ship," he said. "The +Commander has recommended you for it. You're young. Keep it." + +"Rated Leading Seaman. 'Bout turn." + +The newly created Leading Seaman, whose nose was a reminder of the +vagaries of the main sheet block of a cutter when going about, flushed +with pleasure and turned smartly on his heel. The vacant rate was due +to a lapse from rectitude on the part of one Biggers, leading hand of +the quarter-deck, who had returned from leave with a small flat flask +tucked inside his cholera belt. The flask contained whisky, and had +been thrust there by a friend ashore in an access of maudlin +good-fellowship on parting. The night had been a convivial one, and +Leading Seaman Biggers overlooked the gift until, coming on board, the +keen-eyed officer of the watch drew his attention to it. He paid for +the misplaced generosity of his well-wisher with his "Killick."[1] + +He happened, moreover, to be employed in coiling down a rope--in the +capacity he had reverted to--while his supplanter received the rating; +but he eyed the ceremony stoically and without resentment. He had +failed, and, of his less frail brethren, another was raised up in his +stead. It was the immutable law. + +"To be restored to the first class for leave." + +A stout Able Seaman stepped forward, and, from force of a habit +engendered by long familiarity with the etiquette of the defaulters' +table, removed his cap. + +"_Put_ yer cap on," added the Master-at-Arms in a fierce undertone. + +The suppliant deftly replaced his cap. As he did so a packet of +cigarettes, a skein of darning worsted and a picture postcard +(depicting a stout lady in a pink costume surf bathing) fell out on to +the deck in the manner of an unexpected conjuring trick. An attendant +ship's corporal retrieved them, while the conjurer affected an air of +complete detachment. + +The Captain glanced at the conduct book. "Clean sheet? +Right--restored to the first class. And see if you can't stop in it +this time." + +The stout one made guttural noises in his throat intended to convey +assurances of future piety, and departed with an expression that +suggested a halo had not only descended upon his head, but had been +crammed inextricably over his ears. + +The last request-man--the man with "private affairs"--was a small +leading stoker with a face seamed by innumerable tiny wrinkles. His +skin resembled a piece of parchment that somebody had crumpled in a fit +of petulance and made a half-hearted attempt to smooth out again; even +his ears were crumpled. His brown eyes, big and sad, were like the +eyes of a suffering monkey. + +The Commander interposed with an explanation: "This man wishes to see +you about a private matter, sir." + +The Captain made a little gesture with his hand, and the small group of +officers and ship's police near the table stepped back a few paces out +of earshot. The Commander, perhaps the busiest man on board, snatched +the moment's respite to confer with the Carpenter, who had been +hovering round waiting for his opportunity. The Master-at-Arms was +standing by the bollards alternately sucking a stump of pencil and +making cryptic notations in his request-book. The two ship's corporals +had removed themselves with great delicacy of feeling to the screen +door, where in an undertone they settled an argument as to whose turn +it was to make out the leave tickets. The Captain's Clerk became +interested in the progress of work in an ammunition lighter alongside. + +The Captain, with knitted brows, was reading a letter that had been +handed to him across the table. He folded it up when read, and handed +it back to the recipient; then, holding his chin in his fist and +supporting the elbow with the other hand, he listened to the tale the +small man with the crumpled ears had to unfold. It was an old +tale--old when Helen first met the eyes of Paris. But there was no +veil of romance to soften the outline of its crude tragedy. It was +just sordid and pitiful. + +For five minutes, perhaps, the two men faced each other. At the end of +that time the Captain was leaning forward resting both hands on the +table, talking in grave, kindly tones. He talked, not as Captains +commonly talk to Leading Stokers, but as one man might talk to another +who turned to him for advice in the bitter hour of need, drawing on the +deep well of his experience, education, and kindly judgment. + +"Troubles shared are troubles halved." The Captain had said so, and +the tot of rum served out at one-bell to the little man with the +crumpled ears went some way to complete the conviction. + + * * * * * + +Jeremiah Casey, Petty Officer and Captain's Coxswain, hauled himself +nimbly up the Jacob's ladder to the quarter-boom and came inboard. The +Captain was walking up and down, deep in thought, with his hands linked +behind his back. Casey pattered up and saluted. + +"I've bent on that noo mainsail, sir. . . . There's a nice li'l +sailin' breeze, sir." Casey, hinting at a spin in the galley, somehow +reminded one of a spaniel when he sees the gun-case opened. Had he +been blessed with a tail, he would most certainly have wagged it. + +The Captain walked slowly aft and looked down into the galley lying at +the quarter-boom. Few men could have resisted the appeal of that long +slim boat with the water lapping invitingly against her clinker-built +sides. The brasswork in her gleamed in the sun like jewels set in +ivory, for the woodwork was as near the whiteness of ivory as holystone +and sharkskin could make it. She had little white mats with blue +borders on the thwarts and in the sternsheets, and her yoke, of curious +Chinese design, had a history as mysterious and legendary as the +diamonds of Marie Antoinette. + +"Get her alongside," said the Captain. "I want to try that mainsail." + +Five minutes later the galley was spinning across the sparkling waters +of the harbour. + +Once the Captain spoke, and the bowman moved his weight six inches +forward. Then she sailed to his light touch on the helm as a violin +gives out sound under the bow of a master. + +Casey, sitting motionless on the bottom boards with the mainsheet in +his hands, gazed rapturously at the new mainsail, and thence into the +stolid countenance of the second stroke. + +"Ain't she a _witch_?" he whispered. + +For half an hour the galley skimmed to and fro among the anchored +fleet, now running free like a white-winged gull, anon close-hauled, +the razor bows cleaving a path through the dancing water in a little +sickle of creaming foam. + +The Captain brought her alongside the gangway with faultless judgment +and stood up. Like Saul, he had taken the cares of high command to a +witch, and lo! his brow was clear and his eyes twinkled. + +"Yes," he said in even tones as he stepped out of the boat, "that +mainsail sets all right," and ran briskly up the ladder two steps at a +time. + +Casey thumbed the lacing on the yard. "Perfection is finality, and +finality is death." + +"I don't know but what I wouldn't shift the strop '_arf_ an inch +aft--mebbe a quarter . . ." + +Inboard the ship's bell struck eight times, and the boatswain's mate +began shrilly piping the hands to dinner. + + + +[1] Anchor. The distinctive badge of a leading rating. + + + + +IV + +THE SEVEN-BELL BOAT + +The last answering pendant from the Fleet shot up above the bridge +rails, and the impatient semaphore on the Flagship's bridge commenced +waving its arms. + +The Yeoman of the Watch in the second ship of the line steadied his +glass against an angle of the chart house. "'Ere y'are! Write down, +one 'and." A Signal-boy stepped to his elbow with a pad and pencil in +readiness. + +"Flag--general: Leave may be granted to officers from 8.30 to 7 p.m. +Officers are not to leave the vicinity of the town, and are to be +prepared for immediate recall." He lowered the glass sharply. +"Finish. Down Answer!" + +Obedient to the order, a Signal-man brought the long tail of bunting +down hand over hand. He hitched the slack of the halliard to the +bridge rail and puckered his eyes, staring across the waters of the +harbour to where the roofs of houses showed among the trees. "'Ow I +pities orficers!" he observed under his breath, and walked to the end +of the bridge. + +The advertisement of a cinema theatre occupied a hoarding near the +landing place; away to the left the sloping roof of what was +unmistakably a brewery bore in huge block letters the exhortation: + + DRINK PALE ALE + +"Not 'arf," murmured the cynic at the end of the battleship's bridge. +He mused darkly and added, "I don't think." + +The Yeoman of the Watch took the pad from the boy's hand, scribbled a +notation on it, and handed it back: "Commander an' Officer of the +Watch, Wardroom, Gunroom, an' Warrant Officers' Mess. Smart!" + +The boy flung himself down the ladder, sped aft along the fore-and-aft +bridge, turned at the shelter-deck, descended another ladder, and +brought up in the battery. Here the Commander came in view, conferring +mysteriously with the Boatswain over a length of six-inch wire hawser +that lay along the upper deck. The Boatswain, with gloom in his +countenance, was indicating a section where the strands were flattened +and the hemp "heart" protruded in a manner indicating that all was not +well with the six-inch wire hawser. In fact, it rather resembled a +snake that had been run over. The Commander was rubbing his chin +thoughtfully. + +The Signal-boy hovered on the outskirts of the conference. Bitter +experience in the past had taught him not to obtrude when deep called +thus to deep. + +"We must cut it where it's nipped, and put a splice in it, Mr. +Cassidy," the Commander was saying, and turned his head. + +The boy seized the opportunity to thrust the pad within range of the +Commander's vision, one eye cocked on his face to note the effect of +this momentous communication. He half expected that the Commander +would throw his cap in the air and shout "Hurrah!" + +The Commander read it unmoved. "Show it to the Officer of the Watch," +he said, and turned again to the wire hawser. Truly a man of iron, +reflected the Signal-boy as he saluted and ran aft in search of the +Officer of the Watch. + +The Officer of the Watch received the intelligence with almost equal +unconcern, but when the boy had departed out of earshot he said +something in an undertone and added: "Just my blooming luck." Then, +raising his voice, he shouted: "Quartermaster! Picket-boat alongside +at three-thirty for officers." + +A head emerged from the hood of the after turret. The Gunnery +Lieutenant, wearing over-alls, a streak of dirt running diagonally down +one cheek, emerged and drew off a greasy glove to wipe his face. + +"Did I hear you say anything about a seven-bell boat?" + +The Officer of the Watch nodded. "There's leave from three-thirty to +seven p.m. It's three o'clock now, so I advise you to smack it about +and clean if you're going ashore." + +The Gunnery Lieutenant slid gracefully down the sloping shield of the +turret. Fortunately, the consideration of paint-work vanished with the +red dawn of August 5th, 1914. + +"My word!" he said, staring towards the distant town. "My missus----" +and vanished down the hatchway. + +In the meanwhile the Signal-boy had descended to the wardroom, where he +swiftly pinned the signal on to the notice board. The occupants of the +arm-chairs and settee followed his movements with drowsy interest. + +The Young Doctor rose and walked to the notice board. + +"Snooks!" he ejaculated. "Leave!" And, with a glance at the clock, +hurried out of the mess. + +The remainder of his messmates sat up with excitement. + +"What time?" + +"When till?" + +"What about a boat?" + +The head of the Officer of the Watch appeared through the open skylight +overhead. "Wake up, you Weary Willies. There's a boat to the beach at +seven-bells." + +"Come along, chaps," snorted the Major of Marines. "_Allons nous +shifter_--let us shift." And he, too, made tracks for his cabin, +followed by everybody who could be spared by "the exigencies of the +service" to experience for three blessed hours the joys of the land. + +The shrill voices of the Midshipmen at their toilet in the after flat +proclaimed that the precious moments were flying. Three were +simultaneously performing their ablutions in one basin, the supply of +water to the bathroom having failed with a suddenness that could only +be attributed to the malignant agency of the Captain of the Hold. + +Another burrowed feverishly in the depths of his sea-chest, presenting +to the flat much the same appearance as a terrier does when busy at a +rabbit-hole. He emerged flushed but triumphant with a limp garment in +his grasp. "I knew I had a clean shirt," he confided to his neighbour. +"I told my servant so a fortnight ago. He swore that every one I +possessed had been left behind in the wash at Malta." + +His neighbour made no reply, being in the throes of buttoning a collar +which fitted him admirably at Osborne College, but which somehow had +lately exhibited an obstinate determination to meet no more round his +neck. However, physical strength achieved the miracle, and he breathed +deeply. "I shouldn't sweat to shift your shirt," he consoled. "It +looks all right. Turn the cuffs up." + +"I've turned them up three times already," replied the excavator, +donning his find. "There are limits." + +Another Midshipman came across the crowded flat and calmly rummaged in +the open till of the speaker's sea-chest. "Where's your hair juice? +All right, I've got it." He anointed himself generously with a +mysterious green fluid out of a bottle. "My people are staying at a +pub ashore here. Will you come and have tea, Jaggers? Kedgeree's +coming, too." + +The owner of the green unguent, who was feverishly dusting his boots +with a pyjama jacket, signified his pleasure in accepting the +invitation. + +The sentry on the aft-deck stepped to the head of the ladder with a +bellows, on the mouth of which a small fog-horn was fitted, and gave a +loud blast. It was the customary warning that the officers' boat would +be alongside in five minutes. + +The Assistant Clerk ran distractedly for the ladder. + +"There's one 'G'! Have I got time to borrow five bob from the messman +before the boat shoves off?" + +"You might borrow five bob for me while you're about it," shouted a +belated Engineroom Watchkeeper, struggling into his clothes. + +"And me, too," called another. "Buck up, for the Lord's sake, and +we'll have poached eggs for tea." + +"And cherry jam," supplemented another visionary voluptuously, "and +radishes." + +Here a figure, who had been sitting on the lid of his chest swinging +his legs, tilted his cap on to the back of his head with a snort that +suggested outlawry and defiance to the world at large. + +"Hallo!" exclaimed a neighbour, wielding a clothes-brush with energy. +"What's up? Aren't you coming ashore? It isn't your First Dog, is it?" + +The outlaw shook his head. "No; my leave's jambed. You know that +beastly six-inch wire hawser? We were bringing it to the after capstan +yesterday, and the Commander----" + +The aft-deck sentry gave two blasts on his fog-horn. Chest lids +banged, keys rattled. + +"Jolly rough luck!" commiserated his friend, and joined the stampede +for the quarterdeck. + +In thirty seconds the flat was deserted save for the disconsolate +figure swinging his legs. Presently he climbed down from his chest and +wended his way by devious and stealthy routes to the after +conning-tower, where he smoked a surreptitious cigarette in defiance of +the King's Regulations and Admiralty Instructions (his age being +sixteen) and felt better. + +In the meanwhile the picket-boat was driving her way shoreward with the +emancipated members of Wardroom and Gunroom clustered on top of the +cabin and in the stern sheets. + +"Bunje," said the First Lieutenant, "come to the club and have tea and +play 'pills' afterwards?" + +The Indiarubber Man shook his head. "No, thanks; I'm afraid I--I've +got something else to do." + +The Paymaster contemplated him thoughtfully. "Bunje, my lad, the +darkest suspicions fill my breast. Wherefore these carefully creased +trousers, this liberal display of fine linen and flashing cuff-links +withal? Our Sunday monkey-jacket, too. Can it be----? No." He +appealed to the occupants of the stern sheets: "Don't tell me the lad +is going poodle-faking!"[1] + +"His hands are warm and moist," confirmed one of the Watchkeepers. "He +wipes them furtively on the slack of his trousers in frightened +anticipation." + +The Indiarubber Man reddened. "You silly asses!" + +The Junior Watchkeeper squirmed with delight. "He is--he _is_! He's +going poodle-faking. And in war time, too! You dog, Bunje!" + +"Can't a fellow know people ashore without a lot of untutored clowns +trying to be funny about it?" demanded the victim. + +"It's the spring," said the Young Doctor. "Bunje's young fancy is +lightly turning--yes, it is." The Surgeon sniffed the air judicially. +"The bay rum upon your hair proclaims it. Ah, me! The heyday of +youth!" He sighed. "'Time was when love and I were well acquainted.'" + +"That's a fact," retorted the Indiarubber Man bitterly. "But you +needn't brag about it. I haven't been shipmates with you for four +years for nothing. There's nothing you can tell me about your hideous +past that I don't know already." + +The picket-boat slid alongside the landing place and went astern. + +The Engineer Commander made his way towards the little cabin. As the +senior officer of the party, his was the privilege of embarking last +and disembarking first. "Don't wait for me," he said. "Unstow! I've +got to get my golf-clubs." + +The Indiarubber Man took him at his word. "Right. I'll carry on, if I +may." He leaped ashore, and set off with long strides in the direction +of the town. + +The First Lieutenant gazed after him. There was a general feeling that +the Indiarubber Man had suddenly assumed an unfamiliar and inexplicable +role. "Now, what the devil is he up to, I wonder?" + +The others, mystified, shook their heads. + + + +2 + +The mothers of Midshipmen have a means of scenting the whereabouts of a +fleet that mere censorship of letters cannot balk. There were at least +half a dozen mothers in the _foyer_ of the big, garish hotel on the +sea-front. Some were tête-à-tête with their sons in snug, upholstered +corners, learning aspects of naval warfare that no historian will ever +record. Others presided over heavily laden tea-tables at which their +sons and their sons' more intimate friends were dealing with eggs and +buttered toast, marmalade, watercress, plum-cake, and toasted scones in +a manner which convinced their half-alarmed relatives that famine must +have stalked the British Navy ever since the War started. + +"We shall never have time," said one mother, "to hear all you have to +tell, dear." + +"There's really nothing very much to tell you about, mother. Can I +order some more jam? And Jaggers could scoff some more eggs, couldn't +you, Jag? Waiter, two more poached eggs and some more strawberry jam. +You see, dear, we haven't done anything exciting yet. That's all been +the luck of the battle-cruisers and destroyers. They've had a topping +rag--three of our term have been wounded already. But we aren't +allowed to gas about what we're going to do--why, that waiter might be +a German spy, for all we know." + +"Didn't know the Admiral confided his plans for the future to +Midshipmen," commented an amused father, who had run down from the War +Office for the day. + +"He doesn't _confide_ them," admitted another, "but my chest is in the +flat outside his steward's cabin, and, of course, _he_ hears an awful +lot." + +"But, Georgie, tell us about your life. Do you get enough sleep?" +queried his mother. + +"Rather," replied her son, whose horizon three months before had been +bounded by the playing fields of Dartmouth College, where the +dormitories are maintained at an even temperature by costly and +hygienic methods. "We're in four watches, you know--we get one night +in in four. At sea we sleep at our guns. I've got one of the +six-inch, and we get up quite a good fug in our casemate at night. +Jaggers dosses in the after-control. It's a bit breezy up there, isn't +it, Old Bird?" + +The Old Bird signified that the rigours of Arctic exploration were as +nothing to what he had undergone. + +"And your swimming-jacket--the one Aunt Jessie sent you? The outfitter +said it was quite comfortable to wear. I hope you always do wear it at +sea, in case--in case you should ever need it." + +Her son chuckled. "The pneumatic one? Well, we liked it awfully when +it came, and we blew it up; and then we thought we'd have a bit of +scrum practice one night after dinner, and we rolled it up for a ball, +and--and the half wasn't nippy enough in getting it away to the +three-quarters, and somehow or another it got punctured. But I wear it +all right, mother. It's jolly warm at nights." + +"And do you like your officers--is the Captain kind to you all?" + +The boy stirred his tea thoughtfully. + +"They're a topping lot. One has got the Humane Society's gold medal +for jumping on top of a shark at Perim when it was just going to collar +a fellow bathing--you'd never think it to look at him. There's another +we call the Indiarubber Man, who takes us at physical drill every +morning. He's frightfully strong, and they say he licked the Japanese +ju-jitsu man they had at the School of Physical Training. And, of +course, there's old Beggs. You know, he was captain of +England--Rugger--some years ago. He's broken his nose three +times. . . ." + +"We all skylark together in the dog-watches," added another. "We put a +seining-net round the quarter-deck, and play cricket or deck hockey +every evening after tea to keep fit." + +"And they come into the gun-room when we have a sing-song on guest +nights, and kick up a frightful shine. Oh, they're an awful fine lot." + +"The Captain is a topper, too. He has us to breakfast in turns." + +A third took up the epic. If you have ever heard schoolboys vie with +each other to laud and honour the glory of their own particular House +among strangers in a strange land, you can imagine much that cannot be +conveyed with the pen. There were similar tea parties in various +corners of the hotel and in lodgings along the sea-front, but the +conversation at all of them ran on much the same lines, and this may be +considered a fair sample of the majority. + +"He gives a lecture every few days showing what is going on at the +front. His brother's a General, and, of course, he gets any amount of +tips from him. The brother of one of our Snotties--Karrard--was killed +at Mons, and the Captain sent for Karrard (who's rather a kid and felt +it awfully) and showed him a letter from the General about Karrard's +brother--he had seen him killed--which bucked Karrard up tremendously. +In fact, he rather puts on side now, because he's the only one in the +gun-room who has lost a brother." + +"And you don't wish you were back at Dartmouth again?" + +"Dartmouth!" The speaker's voice was almost scornful. "Why, mother. +Kedgeree here would have got his First Eleven cap this term if we'd +stayed, and even he----" + +A small midshipman with remarkable steel-grey eyes, who had not +hitherto spoken much, shook his head emphatically and flushed at +hearing his nickname pronounced in open conversation ashore. "We were +treated like kids there," he explained. "But now----" He jerked his +head towards the north with that unfailing sense of the cardinal points +of the compass which a seaman acquires in earliest youth, or not at +all. Somewhere in that direction the German fleet was presumed to be +skulking. "It's different," he ended a little lamely. + +Suddenly the son leaned forward and pressed his mother's knee under the +table. A tall, sinewy Engineer Commander was walking across the +_foyer_ on his way to the billiard room. + +"There, mother, that's old Beggs. He had our term at Osborne. Did you +see his nose? . . . Captain of England!" . . . The speaker broke off +and lifted his head, listening. + +Through the doorway opening on to the sea-front there drifted a faint +sound, the silvery note of a distant bugle. + +"Hush!" said one of the others, raising a warning hand. "Listen!" + + + +3 + +At the window of one of the detached houses in the residential part of +the town a small Naval Cadet stood with his nose flattened against the +window-pane. + +"I say, Betty," he ejaculated presently, "they're giving leave to the +Fleet. I can see crowds of officers coming ashore." + +His sister continued to knit industriously. "Well, I don't suppose any +of them are coming here. You needn't get so excited." + +Her brother watched the uniformed figures filing along the distant road +from the landing place. "I hope this war goes on for another couple of +years," he sighed. + +"Joe! You mustn't say such dreadful things. You don't know what +you're talking about." + +"That's all jolly fine, but you haven't got to do another year at +Osborne---- I say, Betty, one of them _is_ coming here! How jolly +exciting! He's coming up the avenue now. He's got red hair. . . . I +believe--yes, it's--what was the name of that Lieutenant at Jack's +wedding, d'you remember? The funny man. He made you giggle all the +time." + +For a moment the knitting appeared to demand his sister's undivided +attention; she bent her head over it. "That was a long time +ago--before I put my hair up. I'm sure I didn't giggle either. Oh, +yes, I think I remember who you mean. Is he coming here? I +wonder--come away from the window, Joe!" + +The front door bell rang in a distant part of the house; she dropped +her knitting on a small side table and walked quietly out of the room. +"I'll tell mother," she said as she went out. + +"You needn't trouble to do that," said Joe. "She's out--I thought you +knew." But the door had closed. + +A moment later the Indiarubber Man was ushered in. The two +representatives of His Majesty's Navy shook hands. "I recognised you +from your photograph," said the host. "D'you remember the wedding +group? You were a groomsman when Jack and Milly were married, weren't +you?" + +"I was," replied the Indiarubber Man. "I performed a number of menial +offices that day. But were you there? I don't seem to remember you." + +Joe shook his head. "No, I had mumps. Wasn't it rot? It must have +been an awful good rag. But I remember about you because Betty told me +afterwards--she's my sister, you know. She said you were--oh, here she +is." + +Betty entered. She cast one swift glance at her brother that might +have been intended to convey interrogation or admonition, or both, and +then greeted the Indiarubber Man with friendly composure. "How nice of +you to come and see us! Mother is out, I'm afraid, but she will +probably be in presently. Do sit down. Yes, of course I remember +you--Joe, ring the bell, and we'll have tea." + +"We were 'opposite numbers' at your brother's wedding," said the +Indiarubber Man, taking a seat, and nervously hitching up the legs of +his trousers to an unnecessary extent. + +"Yes, I remember restraining you with difficulty from going into the +garden to eat worms! Nobody----" she broke off abruptly. "What a long +time ago that seems!" She laughed quietly and considered him with +merriment in her pretty eyes. The Indiarubber Man made a swift mental +comparison between the schoolgirl bridesmaid who vied with midshipmen +in devouring ices, and his hostess of three years or so later. + +"Doesn't it?" he said. For one instant their eyes met, shyly +questioning, a little curious. The laughter died out of hers. + +"My eldest brother's in the North Sea now. We haven't seen him since +the War started." + +The Indiarubber Man nodded. "Yes, he's in a battle-cruiser, isn't he? +We don't get ashore much either, as a matter of fact. But to-day----" +He entered into a lengthy statement of naval policy that led up to his +visit and the circumstances connected with it. It was a rather tedious +explanation, but it filled in the time till tea arrived, when Betty +busied herself among the tea-cups; her brother drew his chair close to +their guest, and sat regarding him with breathless expectancy. Was +this the side-splitting humorist Betty had talked so much about for +months after the wedding--and then abruptly refused to mention again? + +Joe experienced a growing sense of disillusionment. There was nothing +about the Indiarubber Man's conversation to justify high hopes of +laughter-provoking humour. In fact, the guest's general demeanour +compared unfavourably with that of the curate--a shy young man, victim +(had Joe but known it) of a hopeless and unrequited passion. + +Joe handed the Indiarubber Man his cup with the air of one prepared to +enjoy at all events the spectacle of a juggling trick with the teaspoon +or saucer. The guest's chief concern, however, appeared to be in +finding a more secure resting-place for it than his knee, coupled with +anxiety not to drop crumbs on the carpet. + +Betty, presiding behind the silver tea-tray, had adopted her most +grown-up manner. Decidedly it was all Betty's fault, therefore. The +most confirmed humorist could hardly be expected to indulge in +drolleries in the presence of a girl who stuck her nose in the air and +put on enough side for six. It became increasingly obvious that the +depressed jester must straightway be removed from this blighting +influence or ever the cap and bells would jingle. + +No sooner was tea over, therefore, than Joe sprang to his feet. "I +say, would you like to go for a walk?" Once outside, the flower of wit +would expand without a doubt. + +The Indiarubber Man appeared nonplussed at the proposal. "I--it's very +kind of you----" Then he turned to Betty. "Shall we all three go for +a walk?" + +"Oh, it's no use asking her to go for a proper walk," interposed the +alarmed Joe. "Her skirts are too narrow; she can't keep step, or jump +ditches, or anything." + +Betty laughed. "Are you anxious to jump ditches, Mr. Standish? +Because, if not, I think I might be able to keep up with you both." +She rose to her feet, a slim, gracefully modelled young woman who +looked perfectly capable of keeping up with anyone--or of jumping +ditches, too, for that matter. "I'll get my things if you will wait a +second." Joe, unseen by their guest, made a face at her of unfeigned +brotherly disgust. + +In the open air, however, the guest's spirits gave no more evidence of +an upward tendency than they had indoors. The trio walked, via the sea +front, to the gardens on top of the cliffs that overlooked the harbour. +Joe directed the conversation; it was largely concerned with battle and +bloodshed. + +"Mr. Standish, what do you do in action?" he asked presently. + +"Nothing," was the reply. "I just put my fingers in my ears and shut +my eyes--I'm the officer of the after turret. But when it's all over I +put on overalls and crawl about the works on my stomach and get a dirty +face with the best of them. A wit once defined a turret as a bundle of +tricks done up in armour." + +"Is it thick armour?" asked Betty. + +"They tell me it is--fellows on board who pretend to know everything. +But I suspect that to be a mere ruse to get me to stay inside it." + +Joe sighed. "I _do_ envy you," he said. "Everyone seems to have +something to do, 'cept me. Even Betty here----" + +The Indiarubber Man turned his head sharply. "Why, what----" + +Betty turned pink. "I'm going to nurse--on the East Coast. My old +school has been turned into a hospital. And the other day Miss +Dacre--she was the principal, you know, and she is nursing there +now--wrote to mother and said they would take me." + +"But," said the Indiarubber Man, "d'you think you could stick +it--hacking off fellows' legs, and that sort of thing? Blessed if I +could do it." + +"Oh, yes," was the calm reply. "I passed all my exams, a long time +ago--in fact, I've been working down here at this hospital for the last +six months. We learned a good deal at school, you see. Home nursing, +and so on." + +"Did you, by Jove! Simple dishes for the sick-room and spica bandages, +and all the rest of it?" + +Betty laughed. "Oh, yes, all that." + +The Indiarubber Man glanced at her small, capable hands, and from them +to the dainty profile beside him. "Well," he said, "if I get bent by +an eight-inch shell I shall know where to come." + +Betty laughed again; "I should have to look that up in a book, then, +before I nursed you. It might mean complications!" + +"It might," replied the Indiarubber Man. + +From the town below, where here and there a window went suddenly aflare +with the reflection of the sunset-light, there drifted up to them the +faint, clear call of a bugle. Another took it up along the front, and +yet another. The Indiarubber Man raised his head abruptly. + +"That's the recall!" he said, and turned towards the ships. "Yes, +they've hoisted the Blue Peter. I wonder--the boats are coming in, +too." + +"Does that mean you must go at once?" + +He nodded soberly. "I'm afraid so," and held out his hand. "Good-bye." + +"Hallo!" said Joe. "I say, you're not off, are you? What's up?" + +"That's what I'm going to find out," was the reply. "I believe it's +another of their dodges to lure me inside my turret. Good-bye, Miss +Betty. Don't forget to read up the book of the words--in case of +complications. . . . Good-bye!" The Indiarubber Man departed down one +of the steep paths that led to the lower road and the landing-place. +The brother and sister turned and walked slowly back to the house. + +Their conversation on the way was confined to speculation on the part +of Joe as to the reason for this sudden recall. His theories covered a +wide range of possibilities. Only when they reached the house did +Betty volunteer a remark, and then in the privacy of her own room, +whose window looked out across the harbour and the sea. + +"Oh, I hate the War," she said. "I hate it, I _hate_ it. . . ." + + + +[1] Paying calls. + + + + +V + +THE KING'S PARDON + +Ask the first thousand bluejackets you meet ashore, any afternoon the +Fleet is giving leave, why they joined the navy. Nine hundred and +ninety-nine will eye you suspiciously, awaiting the inevitable tract. If +none is forthcoming they will give a short, grim laugh, shake their +heads, and, as likely as not, expectorate. These portents may be taken +to imply that they really do not know themselves, or are too shy to say +so, if they do. + +The thousandth does not laugh. He may shake his head; spit he certainly +will. And then, scenting silent sympathy, he guides you to a quiet +bar-parlour where you can pay for his beer while he talks. + +This is the man with a past and a grievance. + + * * * * * + +Nosey Baines, Stoker Second-class, was a man with a past. He also owned +a grievance when he presented himself for entry into His Majesty's Navy. +They were about his only possessions. + +"Nosey" was not, of course, his strict baptismal name. That was +Orson--no less. Therein lay the past. "Nosey" was the result of facial +peculiarities quite beyond his control. His nose was out of proportion +to the remainder of his features. This system of nomenclature survives +from the Stone Age, and, sailors being conservative folk, still finds +favour on the lower-decks of H.M. Ships and Vessels. + +The Writer in the Certificate Office at the Naval Depot, where Nosey +Baines was entered for service as a Second-class Stoker under training, +had had a busy morning. There had been a rush of new entries owing to +the conclusion of the hop-picking season, the insolvency of a local +ginger-beer bottling factory, and other mysterious influences. Nosey's +parchment certificate (that document which accompanies a man from ship to +ship, and, containing all particulars relating to him, is said to be a +man's passport through life) was the nineteenth he had made out that +morning. + +"Name?" + +Nosey spelt it patiently. + +"Religion?" + +Nosey looked sheepish and rather flattered--as a Hottentot might if you +asked him for the address of his tailor. The Writer gave the surface of +the parchment a preparatory rub with a piece of indiarubber. "Well, come +on--R. C., Church of England, Methodist . . . ?" + +Nosey selected the second alternative. It sounded patriotic at all +events. + +"Next o' kin? Nearest relative?" + +"Never 'ad none," replied Nosey haughtily. "I'm a norfun." + +"Ain't you got _no_ one?" asked the weary Writer. He had been doing this +sort of thing for the last eighteen months, and it rather bored him. +"S'pose you was to die--wouldn't you like no one to be told?" + +Nosey brought his black brows together with a scowl and shook his head. +This was what he wanted, an opportunity to declare his antagonism to all +the gentler influences of the land. . . . If he were to die, even . . . + +The Ship's Corporal, waiting to guide him to the New Entry Mess, touched +him on the elbow. The Writer was gathering his papers together. A +sudden wave of forlornness swept over Nosey. He wanted his dinner, and +was filled with emptiness and self-pity. The world was vast and +disinterested in him. There were evidences on all sides of an unfamiliar +and terrifying discipline. . . . + +"You come allonger me," said the voice of the Ship's Corporal, a deep, +alarming voice, calculated to inspire awe and reverence in the breast of +a new entry. Nosey turned, and then stopped irresolutely. If he were to +die---- + +"'Ere," he said, relenting. "Nex' o' kin--I ain't got none. But I +gotter fren'." He coloured hotly. "Miss Abel's 'er name; 14 Golder's +Square, Bloomsbury, London. Miss J. Abel." + +This was Janie--the Grievance. It was to punish Janie that Nosey had +flung in his lot with those who go down to the sea in ships. + +Prior to this drastic step Nosey had been an errand-boy, a rather +superior kind of errandboy, who went his rounds on a ramshackle bicycle +with a carrier fixed in front. Painted in large letters on the carrier +was the legend: + + J. HOLMES & SON, + FISHMONGER ICE, ETC., + +and below, in much smaller letters, "Cash on delivery." + +Janie was a general servant in a Bloomsbury boarding-house. She it was +who answered the area door when Nosey called to deliver such kippers and +smoked haddock as were destined by the gods and Mr. Holmes for the +boarding-house breakfast table. + +It is hard to say in what respect Janie lit the flame of love within +Nosey's breast. She was diminutive and flat-chested; her skin was sallow +from life-long confinement in basement sculleries and the atmosphere of +the Bloomsbury boarding-house. She had little beady black eyes, and a +print dress that didn't fit her at all well. One stocking was generally +coming down in folds over her ankle. Her hands were chapped and +nubbly--pathetic as the toil-worn hands of a woman alone can be. +Altogether she was just the little unlovely slavey of fiction and the +drama and everyday life in boarding-house-land. + +Yet the fishmonger's errand-boy--Orson Baines, by your leave, and captain +of his soul--loved her as not even Antony loved Cleopatra. + +Janie met him every other Sunday as near three o'clock as she could get +away. The Sunday boarding-house luncheon included soup on its menu, +which meant more plates to wash up than usual. They met under the third +lamp-post on the left-hand side going towards the British Museum. + +Once a fortnight, from 8 p.m. till 10 p.m., Janie tasted the penultimate +triumph of womanhood. She was courted. Poor Janie! + +No daughter of Eve had less of the coquette in her composition. Not for +a moment did she realise the furrows that she was ploughing in Nosey's +amiable soul. Other girls walked out on their Sundays. The possession +of a young man--even a fishmonger's errand-boy on twelve bob a week--was +a necessary adjunct to life itself. Of all that "walking out" implied: +of love, even as it was understood in Bloomsbury basements, Janie's +anaemic little heart suspected very little; but romance was there, +fluttering tattered ribbons, luring her on through the drab fog of her +workaday existence. + +It was otherwise with Nosey. His love for Janie was a very real affair, +although what sowed the seeds was not apparent, and although the soil in +which they took root and thrived--the daily interviews at the area door +and these fortnightly strolls--seemed, on the face of it, inadequate. +Perhaps he owed his queer gift of constancy to the mysterious past that +gave him his baptismal name. They were both unusual. + +A certain Sunday afternoon in early autumn found them sitting side by +side on a seat in a grubby London square. Janie, gripping the handle of +cook's borrowed umbrella, which she held perpendicularly before her, the +toes of her large boots turned a little inwards, was sucking a peppermint +bull's-eye. + +To Nosey the hour and the place seemed propitious, and he proposed heroic +marriage. + +"Lor!" gasped Janie, staring before her at the autumn tints that were +powdering the dingy elms with gold-dust. There was mingled pride and +perplexity in her tones; slowly she savoured the romantic moment to the +full, turning it over in her mind as the bull's-eye revolved in her +cheek, before finally putting it from her. Then: + +"I couldn't marry you," she said gently. "You ain't got no prospecks." +Walking out with twelve bob a week was one thing; marriage quite a +different matter. + +In the Orphanage where she had been reared from infancy the far-seeing +Sisters had, perhaps, not been unmindful of the possibility of this +moment. A single life of drudgery and hardship, even as a boarding-house +slavey, meant, if nothing more, meals and a roof over her head. +Improvident marriage demanded, sooner or later, starvation. This one +star remained to guide her when all else of the good Sisters' teaching +grew dim in her memory. + +Prospecks--marry without and you were done. So ran Janie's philosophy. +The remains of the bull's-eye faded into dissolution. + +Nosey was aghast. The perfidy of women! "You led me on!" he cried. +"You bin carry in' on wiv me. . . . 'Ow could you? Pictur' palaces an' +fried fish suppers an' all." He referred to the sweets of their +courtship. "'Ow, Janie!" + +Janie wept. + +After that the daily meetings at the area door were not to be thought of. +Nosey flung himself off in a rage, and for two successive nights +contemplated suicide from the parapet of Westminster Bridge. The irksome +round of duties on the ramshackle bicycle became impossible. The very +traffic murmured the name of Janie in his ears. London stifled him; he +wanted to get away and bury himself and his grief in new surroundings. +Then his eye was caught by one of the Admiralty recruiting posters in the +window of a Whitehall post office. It conjured up a vision of a roving, +care-free life . . . of illimitable spaces and great healing winds. . . . +A life of hard living and hard drinking, when a man could forget. + +But somehow Nosey didn't forget. + + * * * * * + +The Navy received him without emotion. They cut his hair and pulled out +his teeth. They washed and clothed and fed him generously. He was +taught in a vast echoing drill-shed to recognise and respect authority, +and after six months' preliminary training informed that he was a +Second-class Stoker, and as such drafted to sea in the Battle-Cruiser +Squadron. + +Here Nosey found himself an insignificant unit among nearly a thousand +barefooted, free-fisted, cursing, clean-shaven men, who smelt perpetually +of soap and damp serge, and comprised the lower-deck complement of a +British battle-cruiser. + +He worked in an electric-lit, steel tunnel, with red-hot furnaces on one +side, and the gaping mouths of coal caverns on the other. You reached it +by perpendicular steel ladders descending through a web of hissing steam +pipes and machinery; once across greasy deck-plates and through a maze of +dimly lit alleys, you would find Nosey shovelling coal into the furnaces +under the direction of a hairy-chested individual afflicted, men said, by +religious mania, who sucked pieces of coal as an antidote to chronic +thirst, and spat about him indiscriminately. + +There were eight-hour intervals in this work, during which Nosey slept or +ate his meals or played a mouth-organ in the lee of one of the +turret-guns on deck, according to the hour of the day. He slept in a +hammock slung in an electric-lit passage far below the water-line; the +passage was ten feet wide, and there were six hammocks slung abreast +along the entire length of it. + +He ate his meals in a mess with twenty other men, the mess consisting of +a deal plank covered with oilcloth for a table, and two narrower planks +on either side as seats; there were shelves for crockery against the +ship's side. All this woodwork was scrubbed and scoured till it was +almost as white as ivory. Other messes, identical in every respect, +situated three feet apart, ranged parallel to each other as far as the +steel, enamelled bulkheads. There were twenty men in each mess, and +seventeen messes on that particular mess-deck, and here the members +simultaneously ate, slept, sang, washed their clothes, cursed and +laughed, skylarked or quarrelled all round during the waking hours of +their watch-off. + +Still Nosey did not forget. + + * * * * * + +Then came Janie's letter from the Middlesex Hospital. Janie was in a +"decline." + +The men who go down into trenches in the firing-line are, if anything, +less heroic than the army of cooks and Janies who descend to spend their +lives in the basement "domestic offices" of Bloomsbury. Dark and +ill-ventilated in summer, gas-lit and airless throughout the foggy +winter. Flight upon flight of stairs up which Janie daily toiled a +hundred times before she was suffered to seek the attic she shared with +cook under the slates. Overwork, lack of fresh air and recreation--all +these had told at last. + +Nosey availed himself of week-end leave from Portsmouth to journey up to +London, and was permitted an interview with her in the big airy ward. +Neither spoke much; at no time had they been great conversationalists, +and now Janie, more diminutive and angular than ever, lost in the folds +of a flannel nightgown, was content to hold his hand as long as he was +allowed to remain. + +The past was ignored, or nearly so. "You didn't orter gone off like +that," said Janie reproachfully. "But I'm glad you're a sailor. You +looks beautiful in them clothes. An' there's prospecks in the Navy." +Poor little Janie: she had "prospecks" herself at last. + +He left the few flowers he had brought with the sister of the ward when +the time came to leave. The nurse followed him into the corridor. "Come +and see her every visiting day you can," she said. "It does her good and +cheers her. She often speaks of you." + +Nosey returned to Portsmouth and his ship. His mess--the mess-deck +itself--was agog with rumours. Had he heard the "buzz"? Nosey had not. +"I bin to London to see a fren'," he explained. + +Then they told him. + +The battle-cruiser to which he belonged had been ordered to join the +Mediterranean Fleet. That was Monday; they were to sail for Malta on +Thursday. + +And Janie was dying in the Middlesex Hospital. + + * * * * * + +The next visiting day found him at Janie's bedside. But, instead of his +spick-and-span serge suit of "Number Ones" and carefully ironed blue +collar, Nosey wore a rusty suit of "civvies" (civilian clothes). Instead +of being clean-shaven, an inconsiderable moustache was feeling its way +through his upper lip. + +"Where's your sailor clothes?" asked Janie weakly. + +Nosey looked round to reassure himself that they were not overheard. "I +done a bunk!" he whispered. + +Janie gazed at him with dismayed eyes. "Not--not deserted?" + +Nosey nodded. "Don't you take on, Janie. 'S only so's I can stay near +you." He pressed her dry hand. "I got a barrer--whelks an' periwinkles. +I've saved a bit o' money. An' now I can stay near you an' come 'ere +visiting days." + +Janie was too weak to argue or expostulate. It may have been that she +was conscious of a certain amount of pride in Nosey's voluntary outlawry +for her sake; and she was glad enough to have someone to sit with her on +visiting days and tell her about the outside world she was never to see +again. She even went back in spirit to the proud days when they walked +out together. . . . It brought balm to the cough-racked nights and the +weary passage of the days. + +Then the streets echoed with the cries of paper-boys. The nurses +whispered together excitedly in their leisure moments; the doctors seemed +to acquire an added briskness. Once or twice she heard the measured +tramp of feet in the streets below, as a regiment was moved from one +quarters to another. + +England was at war with Germany, they told her. But the intelligence did +not interest Janie much at first. That empires should battle for +supremacy concerned her very little--till she remembered Nosey's late +calling. + +It was two days before she saw him again, and he still wore his "civvy" +suit. Janie smiled as he approached the bed, and fumbled with the +halfpenny daily paper that somebody had given her to look at. + +'"Ere," she whispered, "read that." + +Nosey bent over and read the lines indicated by the thin forefinger. + + +His Majesty the King has been graciously pleased to approve of pardons +being granted to all deserters from the Royal Navy and Marines who +surrender themselves forthwith. + + +There was silence in the ward for a moment. Far below in the street +outside a transport wagon rumbled by. Janie braced herself for the +supreme act of her life. + +"You gotter go," said she. + +Nosey stared at her and then back at the newspaper. "Not me!" he +retorted, and took possession of her hand. + +"That's the King's pardon," said Janie, touching the halfpenny news-sheet +with transparent fingers. "'Tain't no use you comin' 'ere no more, 'cos +I won't see you. I'll ask 'em at the door not to let you in." + +Nosey knew that note of indomitable obstinacy in the weak voice. He +knew, as he sat looking down upon the fragile atom in the bed, that he +could kill her with the pressure of a finger. + +But there was no way of making Janie go back on her decision once her +mind was made up. "If there's a war, you orter be fightin'," she added. +"There's prospecks . . ." Her weak voice was almost inaudible, and the +nurse was coming down the ward towards them. + +Nosey lifted the hot, dry little claw to his lips. "If you sez I gotter +go, I'll go," and rose to his feet. + +"'Course you gotter go. The King sez so, an' I sez so. Don't you get +worritin' about me; I'll be all right when you comes 'ome wiv yer medals. +. . ." + +Nosey caught the nurse's eye and tiptoed out of the ward. Janie turned +her face to the Valley of the Shadow. + + + + +VI + +AN OFF-SHORE WIND + +The circular rim of the fore-top took on a harder outline as the sky +paled at the first hint of dawn. + +From this elevation it was possible to make out the details of the +ships astern, details that grew momentarily more distinct. Day, +awakening, found the Battle Fleet steaming in line ahead across a +smooth grey sea. The smoke from the funnels hung like a long dark +smear against the pearly light of the dawn; but as the pearl changed to +primrose and the primrose to saffron, the sombre streamers dissolved +into the mists of morning. + +Somewhere among the islands on our starboard bow a little wind awoke +and brought with it the scent of heather and moist earth. It was a +good smell--just such a smell as our nostrils had hungered for for many +months--and it stirred a host of vagrant memories as it went sighing +past the halliards and shrouds. + +It was the turn of the Indiarubber Man (with whom I had shared the +night's vigil aloft) to snatch a "stretch off the land" with his back +against the steel side of our erie [Transcriber's note: eyrie?]. He +shifted his position uneasily, and the hood of his duffel-suit fell +back: his face, in the dawning, looked white and tired and unshaven. +Cinders had collected in the folds of the thick garment as wind-blown +snow lies in the hollows of uneven ground. + +As I stood looking down at him an expression of annoyance passed across +his sleeping countenance. + +"Any old where----" he said in a clear, decisive voice. "Down a +rabbit-hole . . ." + +And I laughed because the off-shore wind had fluttered the same page in +the book of pleasant memories that we both shared. The petulant +expression passed from his face, and he sank into deeper oblivion, +holding the Thermos flask and binoculars against him like a child +clasping its dolls in its sleep. + +It was just before we mobilised for the summer--a mobilisation which, +had we but known it, was to last until our book of pleasant memories +was thumbed and dog-eared and tattered with much usage--that the +Indiarubber Man suggested taking a day off and having what he called a +"stamp." He fetched our ordnance map and spread it on the ward-room +table, and we pored over it most of the evening, sucking our pipes. + +All Devon is good; and for a while the lanes had called us, winding +from one thatched village to another between their fragrant, +high-banked hedges. "Think of the little pubs . . ." said the +Indiarubber Man dreamily. We thought of them, but with the vision came +one of cyclists of the grey-sweater variety, and motorists filling the +air with petrol fumes and dust. + +There was the river: woodland paths skirting in the evening a world of +silver and grey, across which bats sketched zigzag flights. Very nice +in the dimpsey light, but stuffy in the daytime. So the moor had it in +the end. We would trudge the moor from north to south, never seeing a +soul, and, aided by map and compass, learn the peace of a day spent off +the beaten tracks of man. + +We had been in the train some time before the Indiarubber Man made his +electrifying discovery. + +"Where's the map?" We eyed one another severely and searched our +pockets. "We were looking at it before I went to get the tickets," he +pursued. "I gave it to you to fold up." + +So he had. I left it on the station seat. + +At a wayside station bookstall we managed to unearth an alleged +reproduction of the fair face of South Devon to replace the lost map. + +The Indiarubber Man traced the writhings of several caterpillars with +his pipe-stem. "These are tors," he explained generously. After this +we studied the map in silence, vainly attempting to confirm our +recollections of a course marked out the previous evening on an +ordnance survey map. + +We were both getting slightly confused when, with a screech of brakes, +the train pulled up at the little moorside station that was our +destination by rail. Sunlight bathed the grey buildings on the +platform and the sleepy village beyond. From the blue overhead came +the thin, sweet notes of a lark, and as we listened in the stillness we +heard a faint whispering "swish" like the sound of a very distant +reaper. It was the wind flowing across miles of reeds and grass and +heather from the distant Atlantic. But it was not until half an hour +later, when we breasted the crest of the great hog-back that stretched +before us like a rampart, that we ourselves met the wind. It came out +of the west, athwart the sun's rays, a steady rush of warm air; and +with it came the tang of the sea and hint of honey and new-mown hay +that somehow clings to Devon moorland through all the changing seasons. + +A cluster of giant rocks piled against the sky to our left drew us +momentarily out of our course. With some difficulty we scrambled up +their warm surfaces, where the lichen clung bleached and russet, and +stood looking out across the rolling uplands of Devon. Worthier +adventurers would have improved the shining hour with debate as to the +origin of this upflung heap of Nature's masonry. Had it served +departed Phoenicians as an altar? Heaven and the archaeologists alone +knew. + +To the northward the patchwork of plough and green corn, covert and +hamlet commenced at the edge of the railway and stretched undulating +over hill and dale to where a grey smudge proclaimed the sea. + +South lay the moor, inscrutable and mysterious, dotted with the +monuments of a people forgotten before walls ringed the seven hills of +Rome. The outlines of tors, ever softening in the distance, led the +eye from rugged crest to misty beacon till, forty miles away, they +dissolved into the same grey haze. + +The Indiarubber Man pointed a lean, prophetic forefinger to the rolling +south. "There's Wheatwood," he said. "Come on." And so, shouldering +our coats, with the hot sunlight on our right cheeks and the day before +us, we started across Dartmoor. + +For nearly two hours the tor from which we had started watched with +friendly reassurance over intervening hills; then it dipped out of +sight, and we were conscious of a sudden loneliness in a world of +enigmatic hut-circles, peopled by sheep and peewits. We were working +across a piece of ground intersected by peat-cuttings, and after half +an hour of it the Indiarubber Man fished out the map and compass from +his pocket. + +"There ought to be a clump of trees, a hut-circle, and a Roman road +knocking about somewhere. Can you see anything of them?" + +I searched the landscape through glasses from my recumbent position in +the heather, but prolonged scrutiny failed to reveal a single tree, nor +was the Roman road startlingly obvious in the trackless waste. Our map +had proved too clever for us. In the circumstances there was only one +thing to be done. With awful calm we folded the sheet, tore it into +little pieces, and hid them in a rabbit-hole. + +For about five miles after that we kept along a promontory that +shouldered its way across an undulating plain, ringed in the distance +by purple hills; then we sighted our distant landmark--a conical +beacon--that we had been steering for. We were descending, thigh-deep +in bracken, when the wind bore down to us from a dot against the +skyline of a ridge the tiniest of thin whistles. A few minutes later a +sheep-dog raced past in the direction of a cluster of white specks. +For a while we watched it, and each lithe, effortless bound, as it +passed upon its quest, struck a responsive chord within us--we who +floundered clumsily among the boulders in our path. + +But, for all this momentary exhilaration, it seemed a long time later +that we struck the source of the burn which would in time guide us to +our half-way halting place. To us, who had been nurtured on its broad +bosom,[1] there was something almost pathetic--as in meeting an old +nurse in much reduced circumstances--about this trickle among the peat +and moss. Lower down, however, it widened, and the water poured over +granite boulders, with a bell-like contralto note, into a succession of +amber pools. + +There we shed our few garments on the bank, and the moments that +followed, from the first exultant thrill as the water effervesced over +our bodies till we crawled out dripping to dry in the wind and sun, +seemed to hold only gratitude--an immense undefined gratitude to the +Power that held all life. At its heels came hunger, wonderfully well +defined. + +Lower down, where the road that stretches like a white ribbon over the +bosom of the moor crosses the river, there is an inn. I will not name +it: writers of poems and guide-books--worthier penmen all--have done +that. Besides, quite enough people go there as it is. We dropped, via +a kine-scented yard and over a seven-foot bank, into the road abreast +the inn door, and here a brake, freighted with tourist folk, brought us +suddenly back to the conventions that everyday life demands. + +True, we were never fain to cling to these; but, standing there on the +King's high-road, clad in football knickers and thin jerseys, sun-burnt +and dishevelled, we were conscious of a sudden immense embarrassment. +And, in sooth, had we dropped from the skies or been escaping from the +grey prison not far distant, the tenants of the brake could hardly have +been less merciful in their scrutiny or comments. + +After the clean wind of the moor, the taint of the last meal and +over-clad fellow-beings seemed to cling unpleasantly to the +low-ceilinged room whither we fled, and I do not think we breathed +comfortably again till we had paid our bill and returned to the +sunlight. Before leaving we inquired the time, and learned it was +nearly four o'clock. + +One ought to "know the time," it seems, among men's haunts; but, once +out of sight of these, it suffices, surely, to eat when hungry, sleep +when tired, roam as long as daylight and legs will let one--in fine, to +share with the shaggy ponies and browsing sheep a lofty disregard for +all artificial divisions of the earth's journey through space. And our +joint watch happened at the time to be undergoing repairs in Plymouth. + +To follow the ramifications of a road gives one no lasting impression +of the surrounding country, but directly a wanderer has to depend on +landmarks as a guide, all his powers of observation quicken. One +ragged hill-top guided us to another, across valleys scored with the +workings of forgotten tin-mines. A brook, crooning its queer, +independent moor-song between banks of peat, rambled beside us for some +time. Then, as if wearying of our company, it turned abruptly and was +lost to view; in the summer stillness of late afternoon we heard it +babbling on long after our ways separated. + +If the truth be known, I suspect it deemed us dullish dogs. But we +were tiring--not with the jaded weariness begotten of hard roads, when +the spine aches and knees stiffen; no, a comfortable lassitude was +slackening our joints and bringing thoughts of warm baths and supper. +However, our shadows, valiant fellows, swung along before us across the +rusty bracken with a cheerful constancy, and, encouraged by their +ever-lengthening strides and by the solitude, we even found heart to +lift our voices in song. Now and again small birds fled upwards with +shrill twitters at our approach, and settled again to resume their +interrupted suppers; but after a while they left for their roosts in +the rowans and sycamores to the south, and rabbits began to show +themselves in the open spaces among the furze. As if reluctantly, the +perfect day drew to its close. + +We raced up the flank of a long ridge to keep the setting sun in view, +reaching the crest as it dipped to meet a ragged tor, and sank in a +golden glow. A little wind, like a tired sigh, ruffled the tops of the +heather, swayed the grass an instant, and was gone. + +"Ah-h-h!" breathed the Indiarubber Man in the stillness. + +A thousand feet below us smoke was curling from the thickly wooded +valley. It was five miles away, but somewhere amid those trees men +brewed and women baked. + +"Come on," he added tensely. "Beer!" + +As we descended into the lowlands a widening circle of night was +stealing up into the sky--the blue-grey and purple of a pigeon's +breast. A single star appeared in the western sky, intensifying the +peace of the silent moor behind us. Stumbling through twilit woods and +across fields of young barley, we met a great dog-fox _en route_ for +someone's poultry-run. He bared his teeth with angry effrontery as he +sheered off and gave us a wide berth across the darkening fields. +Doubtless he claimed his supremacy of hour and place, as did the +sheep-dog that passed us so joyously earlier in the day. And, after +all, what were we but interlopers from a lower plane! + +The thirty-odd miles of our ramble reeled up like a tape-measure as we +reached the lane, splashed with moonlight, that led us to the village. +The gateway to every field held a pair of lovers whispering among the +shadows: yet inexplicably they seemed an adjunct of their surroundings +and the faintly bewildering night-scents. A dog sitting at the gate of +a cottage uttered a short bark as we neared his domain; then, with a +queer grumbling whimper, he came to us across the dust, and perhaps +because--as far as is given to man in his imperfections--we had not +wittingly done evil that day, he slobbered at our hands. + +In the flagged and wainscotted parlour of the village inn a child +brought us bread and cheese and froth-crested mugs of beer. While we +ate and drank, she watched us with tranquil interest in violet-coloured +eyes that foretold a sleepless night for some bucolic swain in years to +come. + +The Indiarubber Man finished his last draught and stood up with a +mighty sigh to loosen his belt. Then, bending down, he took the +child's flower-like face between his hands: + +"'Now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace,'" he said gravely. +Beer was ever prone to lend a certain smack of Scripture to his remarks. + +"Surt'nly," said the little maid, all uncomprehending, and ran out to +fetch our reckoning. + + * * * * * + +The Thermos flask slid with a clatter on to the steel deck of the top, +and the Indiarubber Man opened his eyes. He yawned and stretched +himself and rose stiffly to his feet. + +The first rays of the sun were rising out of the sea. "Hai-yah!" He +yawned. "Another bloomin' day. . . . I was dreaming . . . about . . . +blowed if I can remember what I was dreaming about." He adjusted the +focus of his glasses and stared out across the North Sea. "I wonder if +they're coming out to-day." + +It was the two hundred and seventy-third morning we had wondered that. + + + +[1] The River Dart. + + + + +VII + +THE DAY + +Although it all happened in that dim, remote period of time "Before the +War," Torps and the First Lieutenant, the Indiarubber Man (who was the +Lieutenant for Physical Training Duties), the Junior Watchkeeper, and +others who participated, long afterwards referred to it as "The Day." + +Since then they have seen their own gunfire sink an enemy's ship as a +well-flung brick disposes of an empty tin on the surface of a pond. +The after twelve-inch guns, astride whose muzzles David and Freckles +once soared to the giddy stars, have hurled instantaneous and awful +death across leagues of the North Sea. The X-ray apparatus, by the +agency of which Cornelius James desired to see right through his own +"tummy," has enabled the Fleet Surgeon to pick fragments of steel out +of tortured bodies, as a conjurer takes things out of a hat. The +after-cabin, that had witnessed so many informal tea-and-muffin +parties, has been an ether-reeking hospital. + +Yet these memories grew blurred in time, as mercifully such memories +do. It was another and more fragrant one that sweetened the grim +winter vigil in the North, when every smudge of smoke on the horizon +might have been the herald of Armageddon. They were yet to see men die +by scores in the shambles of a wrecked battery, by hundreds on the +shell-torn decks of a ship that sank, fighting gallantly to the last. +And the recollection of what I am about to relate doubtless supplied +sufficient answer to the question that at such times assails the minds +of men. + +Two who helped in that unforgettable good-night scene on the aft-deck +were destined to add their names to the Roll of Britain's Honour. It +is not too much to hope that the echo of children's merriment guided +their footsteps through that dark Valley of the Shadow to the peaks of +Eternal Laughter which lie beyond. + + * * * * * + +It all started during one of those informal tea-parties the Skipper's +Missus sometimes held in the after-cabin. They were delightful +affairs. You needn't accept the Invitation if you didn't want to; +there was no necessity to put on your best monkey-jacket if you did. +You were just told to "blow in" if you wanted some tea, and then you +made your own toast, and there was China tea, in a big blue-and-white +pot, that scented the whole cabin. + +The Skipper's Missus sat by the fire, with her hands linked round her +knees in her habitually graceful and oddly characteristic attitude; +Torps and Jess, those gentle philosophers, occupied the chintz-covered +settee; the A.P. sat on the hearth-rug, cross-legged like a tailor, so +that he could toast and consume the maximum number of muffins with the +minimum amount of exertion; the Junior Watchkeeper, who by his own +admission "went all the bundle on his tea," and the Indiarubber Man, +who was clumsy with a tea-cup, shared the table and a jam-pot, and sat +munching, tranquil-eyed, like a pair of oxen in a stall. + +The Captain and the First Lieutenant were rummaging through the drawers +of the knee-hole table in search of an ancient recipe of the former's +for manufacturing varnish of a peculiar excellence wherewith to +beautify the corticene on the aft-deck. + +"How are the children?" asked the Torpedo Lieutenant, helping himself +to milk and Jess to a lump of sugar. "Out of quarantine yet?" + +"Yes," replied the youthful mother of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius +James. "At last, poor things! Christmas is such a wretched time to +have measles. No parties, no Christmas-tree----" + +The A.P. looked up from the absorbing task of buttering a muffin to his +satisfaction. "D'you remember the Christmas when you all came on +board--wasn't it a rag? I broke my glasses because I was a tiger. I +was that fierce." + +"And I was chased by the dockyard police all the way from the Admiral +Superintendent's garden with a young fir-tree under my arm. We had it +for a Christmas-tree in the wardroom. Do you remember?" + +They were all old friends, you see, and had served two commissions in +succession with this Captain. + +"Isn't it rather hard on the _Chee-si's_?" asked Torps, "being done out +of their parties--no, Jess, three lumps are considered quite enough for +little dogs to consume at one sitting." + +The Skipper's Missus looked across the cabin at her husband: "Tim, your +tea's getting cold. Why shouldn't we have a children's party on board +one day next week? It isn't too late, is it?" + +"Yes, sir," chimed in the Indiarubber Man. "A _pukka_ children's +party, with wind-sails for them to slither down and a merry-go-round on +the after-capstan?" + +The Captain drank his tea thoughtfully; his blue eyes twinkled. "Let +us have a definition of _children_, Standish. I seem to remember a +certain bridesmaid at the Gunnery Lieutenant's wedding of what I +believe is technically called the 'flapper' age----" + +"Quite right, sir," cut in the Torpedo Lieutenant. "Our lives were a +misery for weeks afterwards. He burbled about 'shy flowerets' in his +sleep, sir----" + +The Indiarubber Man blushed hotly. "Not 't'll, sir. They're talking +rot. She thought I was ninety, and daft at that. They always do," he +added sighing, the sigh of a sore heart that motley traditionally +covers. + +"I propose that we have no one older than Georgina or younger than +Cornelius James," suggested the Junior Watchkeeper. "That limits the +ages to between ten and seven, and then I think Standish's susceptible +heart would be out of danger." + +"How many children do you propose to turn loose all over the ship?" +inquired the First Lieutenant dourly. "No one seems to have taken my +paint-work into consideration. It's all new this week." + +The Skipper's Missus laughed softly. "We were so concerned about Mr. +Standish's heart, Mr. Hornby, that we quite forgot your paint-work. +Couldn't it be all covered up just for this once? Besides, they are +such tiny children . . ." + +There are many skippers' missuses, but only one mother of Georgina, +Jane, and Cornelius James. + +The First Lieutenant capitulated. + +"I vote we don't have any grown-ups, either," contributed the Junior +Watchkeeper, "except ourselves. Mothers and nurses always spoil +children's parties." + +The mother of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius James wrung her hands in +mock dismay. "Oh, but mayn't I come? I promise not to spoil +anything--I love parties so!" + +The A.P. rushed in where an angel might have been excused for +faltering. "Glegg means that you don't count as a grown-up at a +children's party," he explained naively, regarding the Skipper's Missus +through his glasses with dog-like devotion. + +She laughed merrily. "You pay a pretty compliment, Mr. Gerrard!" + +"Double-O" Gerrard reddened and lapsed into bashful silence. + +"It is agreed, then. We are to have a children's party, and I may +come. Won't the children be excited!" + +"Torps, what are you going to do with them," asked the First +Lieutenant, "besides breaking their necks by pushing them down the +windsails?" He spoke without bitterness, but as a man who had in his +youth embraced cynicism as a refuge and found the pose easier to retain +than to discard. + +The Torpedo Lieutenant regarded him severely. "It's no good adopting +this tone of lofty detachment, Number One. You're going to do most of +the entertaining, besides keeping my grey hairs company." + +The First Lieutenant laughed, a sad, hard laugh without any laughter in +it. "I don't amuse children, I'm afraid. In fact, I frighten them. +They don't like my face. No, no----" + +"Mr. Hornby," interposed the Skipper's Missus reproachfully, "that +isn't quite true, is it? You know Jane prays for you nightly, and +Corney wouldn't for worlds sleep without that wooden semaphore you made +him----" + +"I think Hornby would make an admirable Father Neptune," said the +Captain, considering him mischievously, "with a tow wig and beard----" + +"And my green bath kimono," supplemented the A.P. "I bought it at +Nagasaki, in the bazaar. It's got green dragons all over it----" He +met the First Lieutenant's eye and lapsed into silence again. + +"Yes! Yes! And oyster-shells sewn all over it, and seaweed +trailing . . ." The Skipper's Missus clapped her hands. "And +distribute presents after tea. Oh, Mr. Hornby, _wouldn't_ that be +lovely!" + +The First Lieutenant took no further part in the discussion. But late +that night he was observed to select a volume of the "Encyclopaedia +Britannica" (L-N) from the wardroom library, and retire with it to his +cabin. His classical education had been scanty, and left him in some +doubt as to what might be expected of the son of Saturn and Rhea at a +children's party. + + + +2 + +"I doubt if any of 'em'll face it," said the First Lieutenant +hopefully, when The Day arrived. "There's a nasty lop on, and the +glass is tumbling down as if the bottom had dropped out. It's going to +blow a hurricane before midnight. Anyhow, they'll all be sick coming +off." + +The Torpedo Lieutenant was descending the ladder to the picket-boat. +"Bunje and I are going in to look after them. It's too late to put it +off now." He glanced at the threatening horizon. "They'll be all snug +once we get them on board, and this'll all blow over before tea-time." + +Off went the steamboats, the Torpedo Lieutenant in the picket-boat and +the Indiarubber Man in the steam pinnace, and a tremor of excitement +ran through the little cluster of children gathering at the jetty steps +ashore. + +"It's awfully rough outside the harbour," announced Cornelius James, +submitting impatiently to his nurse's inexplicable manipulation of the +muffler round his neck. "I'm never sick, though," he confided to a +small and rather frightened-looking mite of a girl who clung to her +nurse's hand and looked out to the distant ship with some trepidation +in her blue eyes. "My daddy's a Captain," continued Cornelius James; +"and I'm _never_ sick--are you?" + +She nodded her fair head. "Yeth," she lisped sadly. + +"P'r'aps your daddy isn't a Captain," conceded Cornelius James +magnificently. + +The maiden shook her head. "My daddy's an Admiral," was the slightly +disconcerting reply. + +"I shall steer the boat," asserted Cornelius James presently, by way of +restoring his shaken prestige. + +"Oh, Corney, you can't," said Jane. "Casey always lets Georgie steer +father's galley--you know he does. You're only saying that to show +off." + +"'M not," retorted Cornelius James. "I'm a boy: girls can't steer +boats. 'Sides, Georgie'll be sick." + +"Oh, I hope there'll be a band and dancing," said Georgina rapturously. + +"That's all you girls think about," snorted a young gentleman of about +her own age, with deep scorn. "_I_ hope there'll be a shooting +gallery, an' those ras'berry puffs with cream on top. . . ." His eye +followed the pitching steamboats, fast drawing near. "Anyhow, I hope +there'll be a shooting gallery. . . . I say, it's rather rough, isn't +it?" + +The children, cloaked and muffled in their wraps, watched the boats +buffet their way shoreward in clouds of spray. The parting injunctions +of nurses and governesses fell on deaf ears. How could anyone be +expected to listen to prompted rigmaroles about "bread and butter +before cake" and "don't forget to say thank you for asking me" with the +prospect of this brave adventure drawing so near? + +Georgina, standing on tip-toe with excitement, suddenly emitted a +shrill squeal of emotion. "Oh! there's Mr. Mainwaring in the first +boat!" + +"Who's Mr. Mainwaring?" inquired a small girl with a white bow over one +ear, secretly impressed by Georgina's obvious familiarity with the +inspiring figure in the stern sheets of the picket-boat. + +"_Dear_ Mr. Mainwaring!" repeated Georgina under her breath, gazing +rapturously at her idol. + +White Bow repeated her query. + +"He's--he's Mr. Mainwaring," replied Georgina. "My Mr. Mainwaring." +Which is about as much information as any young woman may reasonably be +expected to give another who betrays too lively an interest in her +beloved. + +The Torpedo Lieutenant waved his arm in a gesture of indiscriminate +greeting, and the children responded with a fluttering of hands and +dancing eyes. The steam pinnace was following hard in the wake of the +picket-boat. + +Jane, with the far-seeing eye of love, recognised the occupant +instantly. "There's Mr. Standish," she said. "_My_ Mr. Standish!" + +The nurse of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius James turned to the +Providence that brooded over a small boy with a freckled face. "Did +you ever hear such children?" she asked in an aside. "_Her_ Mr. +Standish! That's the way they goes on all day!" + +The other nodded. "Mine's like that, too; only it's our ship's +Sergeant of Marines with him." Master Freckles's choice in the matter +of an idol had evidently not lacked the wise guidance of his nurse. + +The boats swung alongside in the calm waters of the basin. The Torpedo +Lieutenant handed his freight of frills and furbelows to the Coxswain's +outstretched arms. The small boys to a man disdained the helping hand, +but scrambled with fine independence into the stern sheets. + +"Sit still a minute." The Indiarubber Man counted. ". . . +Eight--twelve! Hallo! Six absentees---- No, Corney, you can't steer, +because I'm going to clap you all below hatches the moment we get +outside." He raised his voice, hailing the picket-boat. "All right, +Torps?" The Torpedo Lieutenant signified that they were all aboard the +lugger, and off they went. + +The nurses assembled on the end of the jetty waved their handkerchiefs +with valedictory gestures; the wind caught their shrill farewells and +tossed them contemptuously to where the gulls wheeled far overhead. + +"My! Isn't it blowing!" said the small boy in freckles, indifferent to +his nurse's lamentations of farewell. "Look at Nannie's skirts, like a +balloon. . . ." + +"Yes," agreed the Torpedo Lieutenant gravely. "It's what's called a +typhoon. I've only seen one worse, and that was the day I sailed in +pursuit of Bill Blubbernose, the Bargee Buccaneer." + +Georgina cast him a glance of passionate credence. + +"Oh!" gasped Freckles, "have you really chased pirates?" The Torpedo +Lieutenant nodded. A certain three weeks spent in an open cutter off +the coast of Zanzibar as a midshipman still remained a vivid +recollection. + +"Tell us about it," said the children, and snuggled closer into the +shelter of the Torpedo Lieutenant's long arms. + +The steamboats drew near the ship, and in the reeling stern-sheets of +the steam-pinnace the Indiarubber Man stood holding two small figures +by the collars--two small figures whose heads projected far beyond the +lee gunwale. They were Cornelius James and the young gentleman whose +valiant soul had yearned for shooting galleries and eke raspberry +puffs. And, horror of horrors! the little girls were laughing. + +The picket-boat had no casualties to report, and as she went plunging +alongside, the Junior Watchkeeper (in sea-boots at the bottom of the +ladder) heard the Torpedo Lieutenant say: + +"We cut their noses off and nailed them to the flying jibboom." + +"And what happened then?" gasped the enthralled Freckles as he was +picked up and hoisted over the rail on to the spray-splashed ladder. + +"And they all lived happily ever afterwards," murmured the Torpedo +Lieutenant absently. "Come on, who's next? One, two, three--on the +next wave. _Hup_ you go!" + +At the top of the ladder to greet each small guest stood the mother of +Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius James. She had lunched on board with her +husband and had spent the early part of the afternoon fashioning a +garment for Father Neptune-- + + "That the feast might be more joyous, + That the time might pass more gaily, + And the guests be more contented," + +quoted the First Lieutenant with his twisted smile, as he tried it on. + +The quarterdeck had been closed in with an awning and side curtains of +canvas that made all within as snug as any nursery. The deck had been +dusted with French chalk; bright-coloured flags draped the canvas +walls; the band was whimpering to start. + +Cornelius James and his fellow sufferer were not long in recovering +from their indisposition; a glass of milk and biscuits soon restored +matters to the normal, and together they sallied forth to sample the +joys that had been prepared for them. + +There were windsails stretched from the after-bridge to mattresses on +the quarter-deck, down which one shot through the dizzy darkness to end +in a delicious "wump" at the bottom. The after-capstan was a +roundabout, with its squealing passengers suspended from capstan-bars. +Each grim twelve-inch gun had a saddle strapped round the muzzle, on +which one sat, thrilled and ecstatic, while the great guns rose slowly +to extreme elevation and descended again to mundane levels. + +There were pennies for the venturesome, to be extracted at great +personal risk from an electric dip; in a dark casemate a green light +shivered in a little glass tube; you placed your hand in front of it, +and on a white screen a skeleton hand appeared in a manner at once +ghostly and delightful. Cornelius James returned to the quarter-deck +as one who had brushed elbows with the Black Arts. "But I wish I could +see right froo my own tummy," he confided, sighing, to the First +Lieutenant. + +The First Lieutenant, however, was rather _distrait_; he glanced +constantly upwards at the bellying awning overhead and then walked to +the gangway to look out upon the tumbling grey sea and lowering sky. +Once or twice he conferred with a distinguished-looking gentleman who +had not joined in the revels, but, carrying a telescope and wearing a +sword-belt, remained aloof with a rather worried expression. This was +the Officer of the Watch. + +"We'll furl it while they're having tea," said the First Lieutenant. +"But how the deuce they're going to get ashore the Lord knows. I'll +have to hoist in the boats if it gets any worse. Keep an eye on the +compass and see we aren't dragging." The Captain came across the deck. + +"You must furl the awning, Hornby; we're in for a blow." He looked +round regretfully at the laughing throng of youngsters. + +"Yes, sir. And I think we ought to send the children ashore while +there's still time." As he spoke a wave struck the bottom of the +accommodation ladder and broke in a great cloud of spray. + +"Too late now, I'm afraid. They'll have to stay till it moderates. +The wind has backed suddenly. Get steam on the boat-hoist and hoist in +the boats. You'd better top-up the ladders. Pretty kettle of fish, +with my wife and all these children on board." + + + +3 + +Tea had passed into the limbo of things enjoyed, if not forgotten, and +the guests had gathered in the after-cabin. "Children!" cried the +mother of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius James, "a visitor has come on +board to see you!" As she spoke, a gaunt apparition appeared in the +doorway. He wore a gilt paper crown, and was dressed in a robe of the +brightest green. Seaweed hung in festoons from his head and shoulders, +oyster-shells clashed as he walked; in one hand he carried a trident, +and on his back a heavy pannier. His legs were encased in mighty +boots, a shaggy beard hung down over his chest; his eyes, sombre and +unsmiling, roved over the assembled children. + +There was a sudden silence: then the small girl with the white bow over +one ear burst into tears. "Boo-hoo!" she cried. "Don't like nasty +man," and ran to bury her face in her hostess's gown. Her fears were +infectious, and symptoms of a general panic ensued. "I knew it," +mumbled the visitor despairingly into his beard, "I _knew_ this would +happen." + +"Children, children, don't be silly--it's only Father Neptune. He's +got presents for you all. Won't you go and say how d'you do to him! +He's come all the way from the bottom of the sea." + +Cornelius James pulled himself together and advanced with outstretched +hand, as befitted the son of a post-captain on board his father's ship. +"I know who you are," he asserted stoutly. "You're Father Christmas's +brother!" + +The First Lieutenant hastily accepted this new mythology. "Quite +right," he replied with gratitude, "quite right!" Then, as if +realising that something further was required of him, added in a deep +bass voice: + +"_Fee! Fi! Fo! Fum!_" + +White Bow screamed, and even Cornelius James the valiant fell back a +pace. Matters were beginning to look serious, when the Torpedo +Lieutenant appeared, rather out of breath. "Sorry we had to rush away +just now, but we had to furl the awning----" His quick eye took in the +situation at a glance. + +"Hallo! old chap," he cried, and smote the dejected Father Neptune +on the back. "I _am_ delighted to see you! How are all the +mermaids and flying-fish? Bless my soul! what have you got in this +pannier--dolls . . . lead soldiers, air-guns! I _say_----" + +The children rallied round him as the children of another age must have +rallied round Saint George of England. + +"Don't like nasty old man," repeated White Bow, considering the First +Lieutenant with dewy eyes. "Nasty cross old man." The visitor from +the bottom of the sea fumbled irresolutely with his trident. + +"Is it really Father Christmas's own brother?" queried a small sceptic, +advancing warily. + +"Of course it is! Look here, look at all the things he's brought you," +and in an undertone to the First Lieutenant, "Buck up, Number One, +don't look so frightened!" They unslung the pannier and commenced to +unpack the contents; the children gathered round with slowly returning +confidence, and by twos and threes the remainder of the hosts returned +from the upper-deck. + +"Why aren't they all wet if they've come from the bottom of the sea?" +demanded Freckles the materialist. "Why isn't Father Christmas's +brother wet?" + +They looked round in vain. Father Christmas's brother had vanished. + +At that moment the Captain entered and sought his wife's eye. For a +few moments they conferred in an undertone; then she laughed, that +clear confident laugh of hers with which they had shared so many of +life's perplexities. + +"Children!" she cried, "listen! Here's an adventure! We've all got to +sleep on board to-night!" + +"Oh, mummie!" gasped Georgina with rapture, "how _lovely_!" This was a +party, and no mistake. "Can I sleep in Mr. Mainwaring's cabin?" + +"And can I sleep in Mr. Standish's cabin?" echoed Jane earnestly. "And +we needn't go to bed for hours and hours, need we?" chimed in Cornelius +James. + +"Where are they to sleep?" asked the Captain's wife, turning to the +Torpedo Lieutenant with laughter still in her eyes. "I never thought +of that. One always has spare rooms in a house, but a battleship is so +different. . . ." + +"It's all right," he replied. "I've arranged all that. There are a +lot of people ashore: the children can use their cabins, and some of us +can sling in cots for the night. They'll have to wear our +pyjamas. . . . But I don't know about baths----" + +"I think they must have plenary absolution from the tub to-night." She +glanced at the tiny watch at her wrist. "Now then, children, half an +hour before bed time: one good romp. What shall we play?" + +"Oranges and lemons," said Georgina promptly, and seized the +Indiarubber Man's hand. + +"I don't know the words," replied her partner plaintively; "I only +'knows the toon,'" as the leadsman said to the Navigator. + +So the children supplied the words to the men's bass accompaniment; the +Captain and his wife linked hands. The candle came to light them to +bed; the chopper came to chop off a head; and at the end a grand +tug-of-war terminated with two squealing heaps of humanity in miniature +subsiding on top of the Young Doctor and the A.P. + +Then they played "Hunt the slipper," at which Torps, with his long +arms, greatly distinguished himself, and "Hide the thimble," at which +Double-O Gerrard, blinking through his glasses straight at the quarry +without seeing it, was hopelessly disgraced. "General Post" and "Kiss +in the Ring" followed, and quite suddenly the mother of Georgina, Jane, +and Cornelius James decreed it was time for bed, and the best game of +all began. + +The Captain's wife gathered six pairs of vasty pyjamas over her arm. +"I'll take the girls all together and look after them in my husband's +cabin," she said. "We'll come along when we're ready. Will you all +look after the boys?" + +Freckles fell to the lot of the Junior Watchkeeper; David, specialist +in raspberry puffs, had already attached himself to the Indiarubber +Man. The A.P. found himself leading off a young gentleman with an +air-gun which he earnestly desired as a bed-fellow. The remaining two, +red-headed twins who had spent most of the afternoon locked in combat, +were in charge of Torps and the Young Doctor. + +"Where's Cornelius James?" asked the First Lieutenant suddenly. "What +a day, what a day!" A search party was promptly instituted, and the +Captain's son at last discovered forward in the Petty Officers' mess. +Here, seated on the knee of Casey, his father's coxswain, he was being +regaled with morsels of bloater, levered into his willing mouth on the +point of a clasp knife, and washed down by copious draughts of strong +tea out of a basin. + +"I went to say 'Good night' to Casey," explained the delinquent as he +was being led back to civilisation, "and Casey said I ought to be +hungry after mustering my bag this afternoon. What does that mean?" + +"I shouldn't listen to everything Casey tells you," replied the First +Lieutenant severely. + +"That's what daddy says sometimes," observed Cornelius James. "But I +like Casey awfully. Better'n Nannie. He taught me how to make a +reef-knot, an' I can do semaphore--the whole alphabet . . . nearly." + +"Here we are," interrupted his harassed mentor, stopping before the +door of his cabin. "This is where you've got to sleep." He lifted his +small charge on to the bunk. "Now then, let's get these shoes +off. . . ." + +The flat echoed with the voices of children and the sounds of +expostulation. The Marine sentry (specially selected for the post "on +account of 'im 'avin' a way with children," as the Sergeant-Major had +previously explained to the First Lieutenant) drifted to and fro on his +beat with a smile of ecstatic enjoyment on his faithful R.M.L.I. +features. For some moments he hovered outside the Junior Watchkeeper's +cabin. There were indications in the conversation drifting out through +the curtained doorway that all was not well within. At length Private +Phillips could contain himself no longer. "Better let me do it, sir. +Bein' a married man, sir, I knows the routine, in a manner o' +speakin' . . ." he said, and plunged into the fray. + +"Oh, is that you, Phillips?" the relieved voice of the Junior +Watchkeeper was heard to say. "I can't get the lead of this infernal +rice-string--don't wriggle, Jim--it's rove so taut. . . ." + +"What '_normous_ pyjamas," said Cornelius James, suffering himself to +be robed in his night-attire. The operation was conducted with some +difficulty because of the sheathed sword which the visitor had found in +a corner of his host's cabin and refused thereafter to be parted from. +"Have you ever killed anyone with this sword?" A blustering sea broke +against the ship's side and splashed the glass of the scuttle with +spray. "Hark at the waves outside! Can't I have the window open? +Shall I say my prayers to you?" + +"No," replied the First Lieutenant, with a little wry smile, as the +shadow-fingers of the might-have-been tightened momentarily round his +heart. "No, I think you'd better wait till Mummie comes." Shrill +voices and peals of laughter sounded outside. "Here she is now." + +He stepped outside, and met the mother of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius +James at the head of her flock. + +"Here we are," she exclaimed, laughing. "But, oh, Mr. Hornby, our +pyjamas are so _huge_!" + +"So are ours," said the First Lieutenant, and stooped to gather into +his arms a pathetic object whose pyjama coat of many colours almost +trailed along the deck. "Cornelius James wants you to go and hear him +say his prayers. . . . I will find sleeping quarters for this one." + +Ten minutes later the last child had been swung into its unaccustomed +sleeping quarters; the twins in adjacent cabins had ceased to hurl +shrill defiance at each other; and silence brooded over the flat. By +the dim light of the police-lamp Private Phillips paced noiselessly up +and down on his beat, and the mother of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius +James passed softly from cabin to cabin in that gentle meditation +mothers play at bedtime. + +On her way aft to the after-cabin she met the Torpedo Lieutenant. "The +children all want to say 'Good night' to you," she said softly. "Only +don't stay long. They are so excited, and they'll never go to sleep." +Of all the men on board the Torpedo Lieutenant's heart was perhaps +nearest that of a child. He tiptoed into the cabin-flat and drew the +curtain of the nearest cabin. + +"Who's in here?" + +"Me," said a small voice. Torps approached the bunk. "Who's +'me'--Georgina?" + +"Yes. Goodnight, Mr. Mainwaring." + +"Good night, shrimp," replied her idol, submitting to the valediction +of two skinny arms twined tightly round his neck. "Good night, and +sweet dreams. . . . No, I can't tell you stories to-night; it's much +too late. . . . Lie down and go to sleep." + +In the next cabin, the sound of deep breathing showed that the small +occupant had passed into dreamland. It was Freckles. Jane remained +awake long enough to kiss his left eyebrow and was asleep the next +instant. White Bow also was asleep, and nearly all the remainder +drowsy. Cornelius James, clasping the First Lieutenant's sword, +however, remained wide-eyed. "I'm so firsty," he complained +plaintively. + +"That's called Nemesis, my son," said Torps, and gave him to drink out +of the water-bottle. "Fank you," said Cornelius James, and sighed, as +children and dogs do after drinking. + +"Good night, Corney. . . . Now you must go to sleep and dream of +bloaters. Oh, aren't you really sleepy? Well, if you shut your eyes +tight perhaps the dustman won't see you," and switched out the light. +As he was leaving a drowsy voice again spoke out of the darkness. + +"What did the Buccaneer say when you nailed his nose to the flying +jibboom?" + +"Please make me a good boy," replied Torps, somewhat at random. + +"Oh, same's I do," said Cornelius James. + +"More or less; isn't that sword very uncomfortable?" + +But no answer came back, for Cornelius James, the hilt of the sword +grasped firmly in two small hands, had passed into the Valhalla of +Childhood. + + + + +VIII + +THE MUMMERS + +The sun had not long set, and its afterglow bathed the bay in pink +light. It was a land-locked harbour, and the surface of the water held +the reflections of the anchored Battle-fleet mirrored to its smallest +detail. So still was the evening that sounds travelled across the +water with peculiar acute distinctness. + +On the quarter-deck of the end ship of the lee line a thousand men were +trying to talk in undertones, lighting and relighting pipes, rallying +their friends on distant points of vantage, and humming tunes under +their breath. The resultant sound was very much like what you would +hear if you placed your ear against a beehive on a summer day, only +magnified a million-fold. + +The ship's company of a super-Dreadnought, and as many men from other +ships as could be accommodated on board, were gathered on the foremost +part of the quarter-deck, facing aft. They sat in rows on mess stools, +they were perched astride the after-turret guns, on the shields of the +turrets, clinging to rails, stanchions and superstructure, tier above +tier of men clad in night-clothing--that is to say, in blue jumper and +trousers, with the white V of the flannel showing up each seaman's +bronzed neck and face. Seamen and marines all wore their caps tilted +comfortably on the backs of their heads, as is the custom of men of +H.M. Navy enjoying their leisure. Above them all the smoke from a +thousand pipes and cigarettes trembled in a blue haze on the still air +of a summer evening. + +They were there to witness an impromptu sing-song--a scratch affair +organised at short notice to provide mirth and recreation for a ship's +company badly in need of both. It was a ship's company hungry for +laughter after endless months of watching and waiting for an enemy that +was biding his time. Their lungs ached for a rousing, full-throated +chorus ("_All_ together, lads!"). They were simply spoiling to be the +most appreciative audience in the world. + +On the after-part of the quarter-deck a stage had been hurriedly +constructed--a rude affair of planks and spars that could be disposed +of in a very few moments if necessity arose--that supported a piano. A +canvas screen, stretched between two stanchions behind the stage, did +duty as scenery, and afforded the performers a "green-room"--for, of +all the ritual connected with appearing upon a stage, the business of +"making-up" lies nearest to the sailor's heart. Provide him with a +lavish supply of grease-paint, wigs, and the contents of the chaplain's +or the officer of his division's wardrobe, and the success or otherwise +of his turn, when it ultimately comes, matters little to the +sailor-man. He has had his hour. + +In front of the stage, a little in advance of the men, rows of chairs +and benches provided sitting accommodation for the officers. They came +up from dinner, lighting pipes and cigars, a full muster from Wardroom, +Gunroom and Warrant Officers' Mess. The Captain came last, and his +appearance was the signal for a great outburst of cheering from the +closely packed audience. They had been waiting for this moment. It +gave them an opportunity of relieving their pent-up feelings; it also +gave them a chance to show the rest of the Fleet their attitude towards +this Captain of theirs. + +It was something they were rather proud that the rest of the Fleet +should see. + +Moreover, the rest of the Fleet, leaning over the forecastle rails and +smoking its evening pipe, did see, and was none the worse for it. + +A man might have been excused if he betrayed some self-consciousness at +finding himself thus suddenly the cynosure of a thousand-odd pair of +eyes whose owners were doing their best to show him, after their +fashion, that they thought him an uncommonly fine fellow. The +atmosphere was electrical with this abrupt, boyish ebullition of +feeling. Yet the Captain's face, as he took his seat, was as composed +as if he were alone in the middle of his own wide moors. He lit a pipe +and nodded to the Commander beside him to signify that as far as he was +concerned the show could start as soon as they liked. + +All happy ships own a sing-song party of some sort or another. It may +be that the singers are content to sit pipe in mouth in the lee of a +gunshield and croon in harmony as the dusk settles down on a day's work +done. Other ships' companies are more ambitious; the canteen provides +a property-box, and from a flag-decked stage the chosen performers +declaim and clog-dance with all the circumstance of the drama. + +In days of piping peace, the Operatic and Dramatic Company of this +particular ship had known many vicissitudes. Under the guidance of a +musically inclined Ship's Steward, it had faced audiences across +impromptu footlights as "The Pale Pink Pierrots," and, as such, had +achieved a meteoric distinction. But unhappily the Ship's Steward was +partial to oysters, and bought a barrelful at an auction sale ashore. +On the face of things, it appeared a bargain; but the Ship's Steward +neglected to inquire too closely into the antecedents of its contents, +and was duly wafted to other spheres of usefulness. + +The Chaplain, an earnest man but tone-deaf, rallied the leaderless +troupe of musicians. During the period of his directorship they were +known to fame as "The Musical Coons." Musical in that each one wielded +a musical instrument with which he made bold to claim acquaintance, +Coons because they blacked their faces with burnt cork and had +"corner-men." The corner-men were the weak spots in an otherwise +well-planned organisation. + +A sailor can be trusted with the integrity of a messmate's honour or +the resources of the mint, conceivably with the key of a brewery +cellar, and justify the confidence reposed in him. But he cannot be +trusted to be a corner-man, "gagging" with a black face and a pair of +bones. The Musical Coons dissolved after one performance, during which +the Captain's brow grew black and the Chaplain turned faint, and an +ecstatic ship's company shouted itself hoarse with delirious enjoyment. + +Thereafter, for a period, the breath of rebuke and disrepute clung to +the songsters; but a ship without a sing-song party is like a dog +without a tail. A committee of Petty Officers waited upon the First +Lieutenant, as men once proffered Cromwell the Protectorship of +England, lest a worse thing befell them. The First Lieutenant, with a +reluctance and a full sense of the responsibilities involved, that was +also Cromwellian, finally consented to become the titular head of the +sing-song party. + +He it was, then, who rose from his chair, holding a slip of paper, and +faced the great bank of faces with one hand raised to enjoin silence. +The cheering redoubled. + +For perhaps fifteen seconds he stood with raised hand, then he lowered +it and the smile left his eyes. His brows lowered too. The cheering +wavered, faltered, died away. They knew what Number One meant when he +looked like that. + +"The first item on the programme," he said in his clear voice, "is a +song by Petty Officer Dawson, entitled, 'The Fireman's Daughter,'" and +sat down again amid loud applause. + +The A.P. rose, hopped on to the stage, and sat down at the piano that +occupied one wing of the stage. Petty Officer Dawson, who was also the +ship's painter, emerged from behind the canvas screen, coyly wiping his +mouth on the back of his hand. The piano tinkled out the opening bars +of the song, and the concert began. + +It was a sad song; the very first verse found the fireman's daughter on +her death-bed. But the tune was familiar and pleasantly mournful, and, +as the piano thumped the opening bars of the refrain for the second +time, the hundreds of waiting men took it up readily. The melody +swelled and rose, till the sadness of the theme was somehow overwhelmed +by the sadness that is in the harmony of men's voices singing in the +open air. + +Petty Officer Dawson was a stout man addicted in daily life to the +inexplicable habit of drying his gold-leaf brush in the few wisps of +hair Nature had left him with. His role on the occasion of a concert +was usually confined to painting the scenery. The nation being at war, +and this particular concert held during the effective blockade of an +enemy's empire, scenery was out of the question. So, as one of the +recognised members of the sing-song party, he sang--with, be it added, +considerable effect. + +"The next item," announced the First Lieutenant (who knew his audience +better even than they knew him), "is a comic song entitled, 'Hold +tight, Emma!' by Stoker Williams." + +This was "Taff" Williams, Stoker First-class, comedian tenth-class, and +master of patter unintelligible (mercifully so, perhaps) to any but a +bluejacket audience. He was a wisp of a man with a pale, beardless +face and small features; incidentally, too, the scrum half of the +ship's Rugby team and the referee's terror. + +But he was more than this: he was the ship's wag, and so was greeted +with shouts and whistles of approval as he stepped on to the stage +attired in the burlesque counterfeit of an airman's costume. + +Perhaps you might not have thought his song so very funny after all. +It might even have struck you as vulgar, since it depended for its +humour upon gorgonzola cheese, the eldest son of the German Emperor, +_mal-de-mer_, and a number of other things not considered amusing in +polite society. But the sailor's susceptibilities are peculiar: they +were there to enjoy themselves, and again and again a great gust of +laughter swept over the audience as an autumn gale convulses the trees +on the outskirts of a forest. The singer's topical allusions, sly +incomprehensibilities, he flung about him like bombs that burst in an +unfailing roar of delight among his shipmates. No wonder they liked +him; and even the padre, who perforce had to knit his brows once or +twice, looked regretful when the last encore was over. + +Taff Williams's song was succeeded by a duet. The singers were also +comedians, but of a different calibre. Some odd freak of Nature had +fashioned them both astoundingly alike in face and frame. They were +baldish men, short and sturdy, with sandy eyebrows and lashes of so +light a colour as to be almost invisible. Their countenances were +round and expressionless, and their song, which was called "We are the +Brothers Boo-Hoo!" contained little beyond reiterations of the fact, +interspersed with "steps" of a solemn and intricate nature. + +Ordinarily their avocations and walks in life were separated by a wide +gulf. One was a Petty Officer and L.T.O., the other a stoker. But +Fame recognises no distinctions of class or calling, and circumstances +over which they had little control, the universal decree of the ship's +company in short, drove them on to the stage to face successive +audiences side by side as The Brothers Boo-Hoo. Neither dreamed of +appearing there without the other, although off it, save for a few +grave rehearsals, they rarely met. They were not vocalists, but they +bowed to popular demand, preserving their stolid, immobile demeanours, +and sang in accents sternly and unintelligibly Gaelic. + +Their turn over, the First Lieutenant announced a juggling display by +Boy Buggins. Boy Buggins appeared, very spick and span in a brand new +suit of Number Threes, and proceeded to juggle with canteen eggs, +Indian clubs and mess crockery (while the caterer of his mess held his +breath to the verge of apoplexy) in a manner quite bewildering. + +The Captain took his pipe out of his mouth and leaned towards the +Commander. "Where did the lad pick up these antics?" he inquired, +smiling. + +The Commander shook his head. "I don't know, sir. Probably in a +circus." + +As a matter of fact, Boy Buggins did start life (as far as his memory +carried him) in grubby pink tights and spangles. But he followed in +the train of no circus; it was in front of public-houses in a district +of London where such pitches recurred with dreary frequency that he cut +capers on a strip of carpet. He visited them nightly in the company of +a stalwart individual who also wore pink tights. After each +performance the stalwart one ordained an interval for refreshment. On +good days he used to reach home very much refreshed indeed. + +They called it home (it was a cellar) because they slept there; and as +often as not a thin woman with tragic eyes was there waiting for them. +She used to hold out her hand with a timid, shamed gesture, and there +was money in it which the man took. If he had had a good day or she a +bad one--it was always one or the other--the stalwart one beat the +woman, or, in his own phraseology, "put it acrost" her. But ultimately +he had one good day too many, or else he felt unusually stalwart, for +the woman lay motionless in the corner of the cellar where she was +flung, and wouldn't answer when he had finished kicking her. + +The police took the stalwart one away to swing for it, and "the parish" +took the thin woman away in a deal box. Boy Buggins passed, via an +industrial training ship, into the Royal Navy, and earned the +Distinguished Conduct Medal before this particular sing-song had passed +out of the minds of those who were present at it. + +One must conclude that all these things were, as the Arabs say, on his +forehead. + +"Private Mason, R.M.L.I.--Concertina Solo!" + +A great burst of laughter and cheering broke out from the sailors, and +redoubled as a private of Marines, holding a concertina in his gnarled +fists, walked on to the stage. Even the officers put their hands up to +smile behind them; one or two nearest the First Lieutenant leaned over +and patted him on the back as if he had achieved something. + +The whole audience, officers and men, were evidently revelling in some +tremendous secret reminiscence conjured up by the appearance of this +private of Marines. Yet, as he stood there, fingering the keys of his +instrument, waiting for the uproar to subside, there was little about +him to suggest high humour. He was just a thin, rather +delicate-looking man with a grizzled moustache and dreamy eyes fixed on +vacancy. His claim to notoriety, alas, lay in more than his +incomparable music. Human nature at its best is a frail thing. But +human nature, as typified by Private Mason, was very frail. Apart from +his failing he was a valuable asset to the sing-song party; but, +unhappily, it required all the resources and ingenuity of its promoters +to keep Private Mason sober on the night of an entertainment. + +When and how he acquired the wherewithal to wreck the high hopes of the +reigning stage manager was a mystery known to him alone. His messmates +drained their tots at dinner with conscientious thoroughness, and his +into the bargain, striving together less in the cause of temperance +than from a desire that he should for once do himself and his +concertina (of which he was a master) justice. + +Yet, his turn announced, on the last occasion of a concert before the +war, the curtain rose upon an empty stage. The Carpenter's party +happened upon him, as archaeologists might excavate a Sleeping Bacchus +or a recumbent Budda, in the process of dismantling the stage. Private +Mason was underneath it, breathing stertorously, a smile of beatific +contentment on his worn features, his head pillowed on his concertina. + +The Fleet Surgeon subsequently missed a large-sized bottle of +eau-de-Cologne from his cabin, which he was bringing home from +Gibraltar as a present for his wife. The discovery of the loss +assisted him in his diagnosis of the case. + +Silence fell on the audience at length, and the concertina solo began. +As has been indicated, Private Mason could play the concertina. In his +rather tremulous hands it was no longer an affair of leather and wood +(or of whatever material concertinas are constructed), but a living +thing that laughed and sobbed, and shook your soul like the Keening. +It became a yearning, passionate, exultant daughter of Music that +somehow wasn't quite respectable. + +And when he had finished, and passed his hand across his moist forehead +preparatory to retiring from the stage, they shouted for more. + +"Church bells, Nobby!" cried a hundred voices. "Garn, do the church +bells!" So he did the church bells, as the wind brings the sound +across the valley on a summer evening at home, wringing his shipmates' +sentimental heartstrings to the limit of their enjoyment. + +"Strewth!" ejaculated a bearded member of the audience when the turn +was over, relighting his pipe with a hand that shook. "I 'ear Nobby +play that at the Canteen at Malta, time Comman'er-in-Chief an' 'is +Staff was there--Comman'er-in-Chief, so 'elp me, 'e sob' like a woman. +. . ." + +The reminiscence may not have been in strict accordance with the truth, +but, even considered in the light of fiction, it was a pretty testimony +to Private Mason's art. + +The last turn of the evening came an hour later when the slightly +embarrassed Junior Watchkeeper stepped on to the stage. His appearance +was the signal for another great outburst of enthusiasm from the men. +He was not perhaps more of a favourite with them than any of his +brethren seated on the chairs below; but he was an officer, obviously +not at ease on a concert stage, only anxious to do his bit towards +making the evening a success. They realised it on the instant, with +the readiness of seamen to meet their officers half-way when the latter +are doing something they evidently dislike to help the common weal. +They knew the Junior Watchkeeper didn't want to sing, and they cared +little what he sang about, but they cheered him with full-throated +affection as he stood gravely facing them, waiting for a lull. + +It is just this spirit, of which so much has been imperfectly conveyed +to the layman--is, in fact, not comprehended in its entity by +outsiders--which is called for want of a better term "sympathy between +officers and men." It is a bond of mutual generosity and loyalty, +strong as steel, more formidable to an enemy than armaments; +strengthened by monotony and a common vigil, it thrives on hardships +shared, and endures triumphant, as countless tales shall tell, down to +the gates of Death. + +The Junior Watchkeeper's song was an old one--one that had stirred the +hearts of sailors no longer even memories with his audience. He sang +simply and tunefully in the strong voice of one who knew how to pitch +an order in the open air. When it was finished, he acknowledged the +tumultuous applause by a stiff little bow and retreated, flushing +slightly. The sing-song was over. + +The officers were rising from their chairs, the A.P. at the piano was +looking towards the Commander for permission to crash out the opening +bars of the Anthem that would swing the audience as one man to its +feet. At that moment a Signalman threaded his way through the chairs +and saluted the Captain. + +The latter took the signal-pad extended to him, and read the message. +Then he turned abruptly to the audience, his hand raised to command +silence. The last of the warm glow that lingered long in the northern +summer twilight lit his strong, fine face as he faced his men. There +was a great hush of expectancy. + +"Before we pipe down," he said, "I want to read you a message that has +just come from the Commander-in-Chief. 'One of our destroyers engaged +and sank by gunfire two of the enemy's destroyers this afternoon.'" + +A great roar of cheering greeted the curt message. The listening fleet +took it up, and in the stillness of the land-locked harbour the volume +of sound reverberated, savagely and triumphantly exultant. + +The hills ashore caught the echo and tossed it sleepily to and fro. + +Then, flushed with excitement and hoarse with shouting, they sang the +National Anthem to a close. + +Altogether, it was a very noisy evening. + + + + +IX + +CHUMMY-SHIPS + +The Lieutenant for Physical Training Duties came down into the Wardroom +and sank into the one remaining arm-chair. + +"I must say," he ejaculated, "the sailor is a cheerful animal. Umpteen +days steaming on end without seeing any enemy--just trailing the tail +of our coat about the North Sea--we come into harbour and we invite the +matelots to lie on their backs on the upper-deck (minus cap and jumper) +and wave their legs in the air by way of recreation. They comply with +the utmost good humour. They don't believe that it does them the +smallest good, but they know I get half-a-crown a day for watching them +do it, and they go through with it like a lot of portly gentlemen +playing 'bears' to amuse their nephews." + +The Indiarubber Man broke off and surveyed his messmates with a +whimsical grey eye. The majority were assimilating the contents of +illustrated weeklies over a fortnight old; two in opposite corners of +the settee were asleep with their caps tilted over their noses, +sleeping the sleep of profound exhaustion. One member of the mess was +amusing himself with a dice-box at the table, murmuring to himself as +he rattled and threw. + +The Indiarubber Man, in no wise irritated at the general lack of +interest in his conversation, wriggled lower in his arm-chair till he +appeared to be resting on the flat of his shoulder-blades, with his +chin buried in the lappels of his monkey-jacket. "I maintain," his +amiable monologue continued, "that there's something rather touching +about the way they flap their arms about and hop backwards and +forwards, and 'span-bend' and agonise themselves with such unfailing +good humour--don't you think so, Pills?" + +The Young Doctor gathered the dice again, knitting his brows. ". . . +Seventy-seven, seventy-eight--that's seventy-eight times I've thrown +these infernal dice without five aces turning up. And twenty-three +times before breakfast. How much is seventy-eight and twenty-three? +Three and eight's eleven, put down one and carry one--I beg pardon, I +wasn't listening to you. Did you ask me a question?" + +"I was telling you about the sailors chucking stunts on the +quarter-deck." + +"I don't want to hear about the sailors: they make me tired. There +isn't a sick man on board except one I've persuaded to malinger to keep +me out of mischief. They're the healthiest collection of human beings +I've ever met in my life." + +"That's me," retorted the Indiarubber Man modestly. "_I_ am +responsible for their glowing health. They haven't been ashore +for--how long is it?" + +"Ten years it feels like," said someone who was examining the pictorial +advertisements of an illustrated paper with absorbed interest. + +"Quite. They haven't had a run ashore for ten years--ever since the +war started, in fact; and yet, thanks to the beneficial effects of +physical training, as laid down in the book of the words, and +administered by the underpaid Lieutenant for Physical Training Duties, +the Young Doctor is enabled to sit in the mess all day and see how +often he can throw five aces. In short, he becomes a world's worker." + +"It's just _because_ they haven't been ashore for weeks and months, and +in spite of the Lieutenant for Physical Training--och! No, Bunje, +don't start scrapping--it's too early in the morning, and we'll +wake . . . those . . . poor devils----Eugh! Poof! There! What did I +tell you!" + +The two swaying figures, after a few preliminary cannons off sideboard, +arm-chair and deck stanchion, finally collapsed on to the settee. The +sleepers awakened with disgust. + +"Confound you, Bunje, you clumsy clown!" roared one. Between them they +seized the Young Doctor, who was a small man, and deposited him on the +deck. "Couldn't you see I was asleep, Pills?" demanded the other +hotly. "You've woken Peter, too. He's had--how many is it, +Peter?--eight morning watches running. I've brooded over him like a +Providence from the fore-top through each weary dawning, so I ought to +know." He yawned drowsily. "Peter saw a horn of the crescent moon +sticking out of a cloud this morning, and turned out the anti-aircraft +guns' crews. Thought it was the bows of a Zeppelin. Skipper was +rather peevish, wasn't he, Peter?" + +The Junior Watchkeeper grunted and turned over on to his other side. +"Well, you nearly opened fire on a northern diver in that flat calm at +dawn the other morning." The speaker cocked a drowsy eye on the mess +from under his cap-peak. "Silly ass vowed it was the periscope of an +enemy's submarine coming to the surface." + +"Truth is," said the Indiarubber Man, "your nerves are shattered. +Pills, here's a job for you. Give the lads two-penn'orth of bromide +and stop their wine and extras. In the meanwhile," he pulled a small +book out of his pocket, "I have here a dainty _brochure_, entitled, +'_Vox Humana_--Its Ascendancy over Mere Noise'--otherwise, 'Handbook +for Physical Training.' I may say I was partly responsible for its +production." + +"I believe you, faith!" said the Fleet Surgeon bitterly, over the top +of the B.M.J. + +The Indiarubber Man wheeled round. "P.M.O.! That's not the tone in +which to speak to your Little Ray of Sunshine. It lacked _joie de +vivre_." The speaker beamed on the mess. "I think we are all getting +a little mouldy, if you ask me. In short, we are not the bright boys +we were when war broke out. Supposing now--I say supposing--we +celebrated our return to harbour, and the fact that we haven't bumped a +mine-field, by asking our chummy-ship to dinner to-night, and giving +them a bit of a chuck-up! Which is our chummy-ship, by the way? +Where's the _What Ho!_ lying?" He walked to the scuttle and stuck his +head out. "Blessed if I can tell t'other from which now we're all so +beautifully disguised." + +"We haven't got a chummy-ship," replied the A.P. "We don't want a +chummy-ship. Nobody loves us. We hate each other with malignant +hatred by reason of hobnailed livers." + +"And if we had," interposed another Lieutenant gloomily, "they'd far +rather stay on board their own rotten ship. They're probably getting +used to their messman by now. The sudden change of diet might be +fatal." The speaker turned to the Young Doctor. "Pills, what d'you +get when you change your diet sudden-like--scurvy, or something awful, +don't you?" + +"Hiccoughs." The Surgeon dragged his soul from the depths of a frayed +_Winning Post_ and looked up. His face brightened. "Why? Anyone +here----" + +"No, no, that's all right, my merry leech. Only Bunje wants to ask the +_What Ho's_ to dinner." + +"Yes," interposed the Gunnery Lieutenant, with a sudden access of +enthusiasm. "Let's ask 'em. Where's the Navy List?" He flung a +tattered Navy List on the table and pored over it. + +"Hear, hear!" chimed in the Engineer Lieutenant-Commander. "Let's be a +band of brothers, an' all drinks down to the mess the whole evening." + +The mess generally began to consider the project. + +"Here's the Commander," said someone. "Casting-vote from him! D'you +mind if we ask the _What Ho's_ to dinner, sir? We all feel we should +be better, nobler men after a heart-to-heart talk with our +chummy-ships." + +"Ask anyone you like," replied the Commander, "as long as they don't +ask me to dine with them in their ship by way of revenge." + +"Carried!" exclaimed the Indiarubber Man. "'Commander, 'e sez, spoke +very 'andsome!' I will now indite a brief note of invitation. Bring +me pens, ink and paper. _Apportez-moi l'encre de mon cousin, aussi du +poivre, du moutard et des legumes--point à la ligne_! I got a prize +for French in the _Britannia_." + +Here the Fleet Surgeon said something in an undertone about a village +idiot, and left the mess. As he went out the First Lieutenant entered +with an apologetic mien which everyone appeared to recognise +instinctively. + +The Torpedo Lieutenant looked up from his book. "Oh, no, Number One, +spare us for just one morning. I've got a headache already from +listening to Bunje." + +The A.P. threw himself into an attitude of supplication. "Number One, +consider the awful consequences of your act before it's too late. +Consider what it means. If you make the wardroom untenable, I shall +have to sit in the office all the morning. I might even have to do +some work!" + +The First Lieutenant shook his head dourly. "The chipping party is +going to start in the wardroom this morning. Paint's inches thick on +the bulkheads, and a shell in here would start fires all over the +place. Bunje, if you want to write letters you'd better go somewhere +else and do it." + +The Indiarubber Man thumped the blotting-paper on his freshly written +sheets and looked up with his penholder between his teeth. "I've +finished, Number One. Admit your hired bravoes." + +As he spoke an ear-splitting fusillade of hammering commenced outside. +The steel bulkheads reverberated with blows that settled down to a +persistent rain of sound, deafening, nerve-shattering. + +"They've started outside," shouted the First Lieutenant. + +A general exodus ensued, and the Indiarubber Man gathered his writing +materials preparatory to departure. "I guessed they had," he was heard +to say. "I thought I heard a sound as it might have been someone +tapping on the bulkhead." + +The watchkeepers asleep on the settee stirred in their sleep, frowned, +and sank again into fathomless oblivion. + + * * * * * + +The Indiarubber Man entered the wardroom in company with the Paymaster +as the corporal of the ward-room servants was putting the finishing +touches to the dinner-table. They surveyed the apartment without +enthusiasm. + +"Considered as a banquet hall, I confess it does lack something," +observed the former. + +"There's a good deal of paint lacking from the bulkheads. Number One +has had a field day and a half." + +The other nodded. "In the words of the song: + + 'There's no carpet on the floor, + And no knocker on the door, + Oh, ours is a happy little home . . .' + +Phillips, bring me the menu, and let's see the messman has succeeded in +being funny without being vulgar." + +Corporal Phillips brought the menu with the air of one who connives at +a felony. "Messman says, sir, it ain't all 'e'd like it to be, what +with guests comin' and that. But I says to 'im, 'war is war,' I says, +'an' we can't expect eggs-on-meat _entrées_, same's if it was peace +time.'" + +"To-day's beautiful thought!" remarked the Indiarubber Man when the +corporal had withdrawn. "Really, Phillips has a knack of disclosing +great truths as if they were the lightest gossip." + +The Engineer Commander came in, glancing at the clock. "Five minutes +more and the _What Ho's_ will be here. Bunje, my lad, you were +responsible for this _entente_--have you any idea what we are going to +do with them after dinner?" + +"None," replied the Indiarubber Man; "none whatever. It will come to +me sudden-like. I might dress up as a bogey, and frighten you all--or +shall we try table-turning? Or we could dope their liquor and send +them all back insensible. Wouldn't that be true Oriental hospitality! +They'd wake up to-morrow morning under the impression that they'd had +the night of their lives." + +The members of the mess began to collect round the fireplace with the +funereal expressions customary whenever a mess-dinner is impending. + +"Which of the _What Ho's_ are coming?" + +"Where're they going to sit?" + +"Who asked them?" + +"Why?" + +"Are drinks going down to the mess?" + +And then the door opened and the guests arrived, smiling, a little shy, +as the naval officer is wont to be when he finds himself in a strange +mess. + +They were relieved of caps and cloaks, and, under the mellowing +influence of sherry and bitters, began to settle down. + +"Jolly good of you fellows to ask us to dinner," said the First +Lieutenant, an officer with a smiling cherubic visage and a choleric +blue eye. "We were getting a bit bored with our hooker. A fortnight +of looking for _Der Tag_ gets a bit wearisome. D'you think the devils +are ever coming out?" + +"We didn't want to ask you a bit, really," explained one of the hosts +(the advantage of having a chummy-ship is that you can insult them in +your own mess). "It's only a scheme of Bunje's for drinking +intoxicating liquor to excess at the expense of his messmates." + +The guests grinned sympathetically. As a matter of fact, most of the +company drank little else than water during those days of strain and +vigil. Frequent references to indulgence might, therefore, be regarded +as comic, in a sense. + +"We thought of bringing our own chairs," added one, "in case you'd +landed all your spare ones." + +"Yes," chimed in a third politely. "We didn't expect to find such a +wealth of furniture--it's like a Model Homes Exhibition. You should +see our mess!" + +The Gunnery Lieutenant made a gesture of deprecation. "The +watchkeepers insist on keeping the settee to caulk on in the intervals +of hogging in their cabins. The piano was retained for the benefit of +the Young Doctor. He can play _Die Wacht am Rhein_ with one +finger--can't you, Pills?" + +The Young Doctor beamed with simple pride. "My sister's German +governess taught me when I was a kid," he explained. "We have it every +night--it's the only tune I know." + +"The sideboard is to support the empty glasses of the bridge-players +after the Padre has put down one of his celebrated 'no-trumps' +hands--we had to keep the sideboard. The arm-chair is for Number One +to sit in and beat time while his funny party chip paint off the +bulkheads." The Gunnery Lieutenant looked round. "And so on, and so +on--oh, the gramophone? Bunje bu'st all the records except three, and +we're getting to know those rather well. But as you're a guest, old +thing, would you like 'Tipperary,' Tosti's 'Good-bye,' or 'A Little +Grey Home in the West'?" + +The corporal of the ward-room servants interrupted these amenities with +the announcement that dinner was ready, and a general move was made to +the table. + +Thereafter the conversation flowed evenly and generally. It was not +confined to war. The men who make war, either afloat or ashore, do not +talk about it over-much. There are others--even in this England of +ours--by tradition better qualified to do the talking, in that they see +most of the game. . . . On the whole, perhaps, more "shop" was +discussed than would have been the case in peace-time, but for the most +part it eddied round much the same subjects as Wardroom conversation +always does, with the Indiarubber Man's Puck-like humour and gay +mock-cynicism running through it like a whimsical pattern in an +otherwise conventional design. + +War had been their trade in theory from earliest youth. They were all +on nodding terms with Death. Indeed, most of the men round the long +table had looked him between the eyes already, and the obituary pages +in the Navy List had been a reminder, month by month, of others who had +looked there too--and blinked, and closed their eyes--shipmates and +fleetmates and familiar friends. + +War was the Real Thing, that was all. There was nothing about it to +obsess men's minds. You might say it was the manoeuvres of 19-- all +over again, with the chance of "bumping a mine" thrown in, and also the +glorious certainty of ultimately seeing a twelve-inch salvo pitch +exactly where the long years of preparation ordained that it should. + +A submarine specialist, whom the war caught doing exile in a "big +ship," dominated the conversation for a while with lamentations that he +was constrained to dwell in the Tents of Kedah. Two minutes of his +talk having nearly convinced everyone that the sole _raison d'être_ of +the big ship was to be sunk by submarine attack, he and his theories +passed into a conversational siding. The watchkeepers exchanged mutual +condolences on the exasperating tactics of drift-net trawlers, notes on +atmospheric conditions prevalent in the North Sea, methods of removing +nocturnal cocoa-stains from the more vital portions of a chart, and +other matters of interest to watchkeepers. + +The Commander and the First Lieutenant of the _What Ho's_ discussed the +training of setters. The Young Doctor and his opposite number, and +those near them found interest in morphia syringes, ventilation of +distributing stations, and--a section of the talk whirling into a +curious backwater--the smell of cooking prevalent in the entrance halls +of Sheerness lodging-houses. . . . + +The dinner went its course: they drank, sitting (as was their privilege +and tradition), the King's health. Then the cigarettes went round, +chairs turned a little sideways, the port circulated a second time. +The conversation was no longer general. In pairs or by threes, +according to taste, temperament or individual calling, the members of +the mess and their guests settled down to a complacent enjoyment of the +most pleasant half-hour in a battleship's long day. + +Presently, while the bridge-table was being set out, the Indiarubber +Man rose from the table, and, crossing to the piano, began to vamp +lightly on the keys, humming under his breath. A chorus quickly +gathered round. A battered Naval Song Book was propped up on the +music-rest--more from habit than necessity, since the Indiarubber Man +could not read a note of music and everybody knew the words of the +time-honoured chanties. The pianist's repertoire was limited: half a +dozen ding-dong chords did duty as accompaniment to "Bantry Bay," "John +Peel," and "The Chinese Bumboatman" alike; but a dozen lusty voices +supplied melody enough, the singers packed like herrings round the +piano, leaning over each other's shoulders, and singing with all the +strength of their lungs. + +They exhausted the favourites at length, and the player wheeled round +on his stool. + +"What about one of the guests for a song?" + +"Yes, yes!" cried several voices. "Where's Number One? He's our +Madame Patti. You ought to hear him sing '_We don't serve bread with +one fish-ball!_' It's really worth it. But it takes a lot of port to +get him started. How d'you feel about it, Number One?" They spoke +with indulgent affection, as a nurse might persuade a bashful child to +show off before company. + +He of the choleric blue eye was still sitting at the table with one of +his hosts. He turned in his chair, smiling grimly. + +"What's that about me? I don't want to start scrapping in a strange +mess, Snatcher, but if you really _are_ looking for trouble----!" + +"Don't mind us!" shouted the Indiarubber Man delightedly. "We'll put +up a scrap for you in half a jiffy if you feel like a crumpled +shirt-front!" He looked round the mess. "Wait till Flags and the +Secretary come in from dinner with the Old Man, and we'll out the +gilded Staff. They're good 'uns to scrap." + +As he spoke the door opened, and the Flag Lieutenant came in, to be met +by a volley of greetings. + +"We of the cuddy," he began in a tone of mincing severity, "are not +pleased at the raucous uproar said to be coming from a mess of officers +and gentlemen. We are pained. We come to lend our presence to what +might otherwise develop into an unseemly brawl----" He helped himself +to a walnut out of a dish on the sideboard. "Here comes my colleague +the Secretary-bird. He, too, is more grieved than angry." + +The Secretary entered warily, and intending combatants girded their +loins for battle. + +"Pouf!" he exclaimed. "What a fug!" And elevated his nose with a +sniff. The Fiery Cross was out. + +"Out Staff!" said the Indiarubber Man in a low voice. "Dogs of war! +Out gilded popinjays!" + +With a promptitude that hinted at long experience of internecine +warfare, the newcomers embraced the first maxim of war: "If you must +hit, hit first, hit hard, and keep on hitting." + +Like a flash, the two members of the Personal Staff were on the +Indiarubber Man. A chair went crashing, a broken glass tinkled on to +the deck, to the accompaniment of protests from the Paymaster, and, +before the mess could join battle, the Indiarubber Man hurtled through +the doorway on to the aft-deck, to pitch at the feet of a delighted +Marine sentry. By the rules of the game, once through the portals of +the mess there was no return until a truce was declared. The younger +members of the mess rose to a man; for a moment the guests hung back. +It is not in the best of form to scrap in a strange mess, except by +express invitation. + +"Come on!" shouted the Junior Watchkeeper. "Bite 'em in the stomach!" +and flung himself upon the Secretary. + +The guests waited for no second invitation. It was a battle royal, and +the Indiarubber Man, interned on the aft-deck, yelped encouragement to +his erstwhile conquerors because they were fighting valiantly against +hopeless odds. + +A Rugby International and a middle-weight boxer of some pretensions, +although hampered by aiguilettes and outnumbered six to one, were not +easily disposed of. But they were ultimately overpowered, and carried, +puffing with exhaustion and helpless with laughter, over the debris of +the bridge-table, gramophone and paper-rack, out through the doorway. + +The mess, breathing heavily, adjusted its ties and collars and smoothed +its dishevelled hair. The Flag Lieutenant and Secretary retired to +their cabins for more extensive repairs. The bridge-table was set upon +its legs once more, the scattered cards collected. + +"Polo!" said the Indiarubber Man. "Let's play polo!" + +"How d'you do that?" asked one of the ecstatic guests. At the bottom +of his heart he was also wondering why the greybeards of the mess stood +all this tomfoolery without protest. He had never been shipmates with +the Indiarubber Man. + +The Indiarubber Man took an orange off the sideboard, a dessert-spoon +out of a drawer, and straddled over the back of a chair. "Like this, +d'you see? We generally play three a-side, but as there are six of you +we'll play double sides." He tossed the orange on to the deck, and +hopped his chair in pursuit, brandishing the dessert-spoon. + +"That's a great game," said the First Lieutenant of the _What Ho!_ and +got him to horse. "Come on, our side, boot and saddle!" + +As the game was about to start the door opened, and the Flag Lieutenant +entered hurriedly. He carried a signal-pad in his hand, and there was +that in his face that silenced the polo players and caused the bridge +players to lay down their hands. + +"Signal," he said curtly. "Raise steam for full speed. Prepare for +immediate action on leaving harbour." And was gone. + +Those who had immediate duties elsewhere stampeded out of the mess. +Overhead there was a thud of feet and ropes ends and the shrilling of +pipes as the watch fell in. A Midshipman thrust his head inside the +door of the Wardroom. "Boat's alongside, sir!" he said, and vanished. + +The First Lieutenant of the visitors flung his boat-cloak over his +shoulders. "Well," he said, "we've had a topping evening. S'long, and +thanks very much." + +Their hosts helped the departing ones into their great-coats. "Not 't +all," they murmured politely in return. "Sorry to break up a cheery +evening. Let's hope they've really come out this time!" + +The Indiarubber Man slid on to the music-stool again, put his foot on +the soft pedal, lightly touched the familiar chords, and began humming +under his breath: + + "We don't want to lose you---- + But we _think_ you ought to go . . ." + +There are many ways of saying _Moriturus te saluto_. + + + + +X + +THE HIGHER CLAIM + +1 + +All night long the wind, blowing in across the dunes from the North +Sea, had brought the sound of firing. + +At times it was hardly perceptible: a faint reverberation of the ether +that could scarcely be defined as sound; it would resolve itself into a +low, continuous rumble, very much like distant thunder, that died away +and recommenced nearer and more distinct. Then the sashes of the open +window trembled, and Margaret, who had lain awake all night, every +nerve strained to listen, leaned on one elbow to stare from her bed out +into the darkness. + +She had tried not to listen. For hours she had lain without moving, +with limbs tense beneath the coverings, the palms of her hands pressed +against her ears. But imagination sped through the dark passages of +her mind, brandishing a torch, compelling her at length to listen again. + +She had no very clear idea, of course, what a naval action was like. A +confused recollection of pictures seen in childhood only suggested +stalwart men, stripped to the waist and bare-footed, working round the +smoking guns of ships whose decks blazed up in flame to taunt the quiet +heavens; while the ships' scuppers ran red. + +Modern naval warfare could be nothing like that, though. + +She had only seen the results of modern warfare. Men tortured till +they came near to forgetting their manhood; burnt, deaf, scalded, torn +by splinters, blinded; she had seen them smiling under circumstances +that thrilled her to feel they shared a common Flag. + +On the outbreak of war the training institute on the East Coast, of +which Margaret was the matron, had, on account of its position near the +coast and other advantages, been converted into a Naval Hospital. Miss +Dacre, the principal, Margaret, and a few others who had already +qualified in nursing, were retained as Red Cross sisters, and it was +not long before the classrooms and dormitories were occupied by very +different inmates from those for whom they were intended. Only the +more serious cases reached these wards. The less dangerously hurt +passed by rail or hospital ship to the base hospitals in the South. + +All night long the wounded men in the long wards stirred fretfully +under the white counterpanes, each man translating the sounds according +to his own imagination or experience. The night-sisters moved softly +to and fro on the beeswaxed boards, smoothing tumbled pillows, +adjusting a splint or a bandage, calming the bearded children who +fretted because they were hopelessly "out of it." + +Towards the dawn the sounds of firing gradually grew fainter, and died +away as the first pale bands of light appeared in the east. The +sparrows under the eaves stirred and commenced a sleepy twittering. +Margaret rose as soon as objects in her room were discernible, bathed +her face and hands in cold water, and stood awhile at the window +watching the day growing over the sea and sombre sky. + +The sounds of the battle that passed away to the northward had shaken +her nerves as had nothing else in all her experience. Standing there +by the open window, drinking in the indescribable freshness of the +dawn, she despised herself. She, who had devoted her life to a +Purpose, should be above the petty weakness of her sex. Yet the cold +fear that had been her bedfellow throughout the night, and was +concerned with neither defeat nor victory, haunted her still. + +She closed the window, lit a small spirit-lamp on a side table, and, +while the kettle boiled, dressed in riding things. The earliness of +the hour made it improbable that she would meet a soul, and yet she +dressed carefully, coiling her soft hair, with its silver threads, on +the nape of her neck, fastidiously dusting riding boots, and giving a +brisk rub to the single spur before she strapped it on. She was +adjusting her hard-felt hat before the glass when someone knocked at +the door. + +She turned questioningly, with hands still raised. "Come in!" + +A girl was standing in the doorway; she wore a dressing-gown, and +beneath it her slim ankles peeped out of a pair of the felt slippers +nurses wear at night. + +"Betty! What's the matter?" + +"Did you hear the firing?" + +Margaret nodded. Was the betrayal of her nerves infectious? Had it +communicated itself to the whole staff? For a swift instant she +despised her sex--she who had devoted her life to it. "Yes. Another +big engagement. We shall be busy. I was going to ride down to the +cliffs to see. . . . What's the matter, Betty--can't you sleep? Come +in and shut the door; I'll give you a cup of tea." She spoke in her +accustomed quiet tone, and crossed to the side table, where the kettle +was giving out little fitful puffs of steam. + +Betty closed the door and sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands in +the side pockets of her dressing-gown. Her hair was plaited loosely in +two long plaits, one of which hung down over her shoulder and somehow +gave her face an added effect of extreme youth. + +Margaret handed her a cup of tea. "Drink that and run back to bed. +No--hop into mine and keep warm. Haven't you slept?" + +Betty drank the tea and drew the dressing-gown closer round her young +form. "I couldn't sleep. The firing . . . No, I'm quite warm, +thanks. But it got on my nerves lying there waiting for it to get +light. I heard you moving, and I got up." She passed her hand over +her eyes. "After the last time I kept seeing those poor things. . . . +I don't mind once we start--I don't mind the operating-table. It's +when they come in . . . like dumb things--trying to smile, with their +mouths all screwed up and tight." She caught her breath half +hysterically. + +Margaret put down her cup quickly and sat down by the girl's side. +"Betty! Don't talk like that. You mustn't think about it in that way. +Listen----" + +"It's easy to be calm when you haven't any--anybody out there in the +North Sea belonging to you. But I've got a brother and a--and he's a +Gunnery Lieutenant," ended Betty a little feebly. + +"I know, dear. But you mustn't go to pieces when we all want every bit +of pluck and steadiness. We're getting used to it now, too--and I'm +sure your brother would like to think you were being as brave as--as +he. . . ." She turned her head and stared out of the window. Was she +a hypocrite, she wondered, to try to preach to anyone the virtue of +womanly courage when her own heart was sick with she knew not what? + +Betty stood up. "I'm a fool," she said abruptly. "Can I come with +you? Could you wait ten minutes while I put my riding things on? Miss +Dacre said I could take her horse when I wanted to--will you wait for +me, Margaret? I'll ride down to the sea with you." + +Margaret nodded and rose, too. "I'll get the horses saddled while you +dress. . . . Bring some biscuits." + +She descended the broad oak stairway, crossed the hall, and opened the +door of a little room adjoining the main entrance. It was her day +sanctum--in scholastic days, the matron's sitting-room, a small +apartment, with pretty chintz-covered furniture, and roses in bowls on +the table and bookstands. Margaret unhooked a pair of field-glasses +hanging on the wall, and passed out into the early morning sunlight. + +Betty joined her ten minutes later in the stables, and together they +mounted and rode down the long avenue, bordered by firs, out on to the +open wold that commanded a view of the sea. + +With the dewy turf under them, they shook their impatient horses into a +canter until they reached the highest point of a bluff promontory that +stretched out into the sea. Here they reined in and scanned the +horizon, side by side. + +The water was leaden-coloured, shot with coppery gleams. Below them to +the northward the little harbour of the fishing village was stirring to +life: wisps of smoke, curling from a score of chimneys, blended with +the mists of early morning. Small specks that were people began to +move about an arm of the breakwater, towards which a dinghy came +stealing sluggishly from one of the anchored fishing craft. + +Without speaking, Betty abruptly raised her whip and pointed towards +the north. A Torpedo Boat Destroyer was approaching the entrance to +the harbour, her funnels jagged with shot-holes pouring out smoke. In +silence Margaret handed the glasses to her companion. On the far +horizon there were faint columns of smoke north and east. Some were +smudges that dissolved and faded to nothing; others grew darker, and +presently resolved themselves into distant cruisers passing rapidly +south. Margaret's horse lowered his head and began cropping the short +grass. + +"Margaret," said Betty suddenly, "did you ever care for anybody--a man, +I mean?" To Betty's mind the thirty-five years that sat so lightly on +Margaret's brow relegated such a possibility, if it ever happened, to a +past infinitely remote. For a moment there was no reply. + +Margaret stretched out her hand for the glasses, and focused them on +the horizon. + +"Yes," she said at length, quietly. The Destroyer was entering the +harbour; faint confused sounds of cheering drifted up to them. + +"Why didn't you marry him? Did you send him away?" + +Again a pause, and again came the low-voiced affirmative. Margaret +lowered the glasses and returned them to the case slung across her +shoulder. "I thought I was doing right. . . . But I was wrong." The +night had not been without its lesson. "He's out there." She nodded +towards the North Sea, and as she spoke the blunt bows of a hospital +ship crept round a distant headland, making towards them. Silence tell +between them again. + +Margaret broke it. "Betty," she said, "if the time ever comes for you +to choose between the love of the man you love and--and anything else +in the wide world, don't be misled by other claims . . . by what may +seem to be higher claims. Loving and being loved are the highest +responsibilities that life holds." + +Betty turned her head and stared. "But," she said, "if you think duty +doesn't give you the right to----" + +"Love gives you all the right a woman wants," replied Margaret, still +in the same low, sad tone. "If it's only the right to cry. . . . If +you forego love, you forego even that." She gathered the reins and +turned her horse. "Now we must get back to bath and dress. There's a +lot of work ahead of us." + +Neither spoke again as they rode back across the downs. In the filmy +blue overhead a lark sang rapturously, pouring out its soul in gladness. + + * * * * * + +Margaret was in the hall when the first of the long line of +stretcher-bearers arrived. As each stretcher was brought in, a surgeon +made a brief examination of the wounded man, and he passed through one +or other of the wide doorways opening out on either side of the hall. +There was a subdued murmur of voices as every moment brought a fresh +arrival. Two blue-jackets, who came up the steps carrying a hooded +stretcher, stood looking about them as if for orders. The surgeons +were all occupied, but, catching sight of Margaret in uniform, with the +broad red cross on her breast, the blue-jackets crossed the hall +towards her and laid the stretcher at her feet, as if they had brought +their burden all this way for her alone. + +"Second door on the left," said Margaret. "Wait--is it a bad case?" + +"Too late, I'm afraid, Sister," said the stalwart at the head of the +stretcher. "'E's died on the way up." + +"'Emmerage, Sister," supplemented the other, anxious to display his +familiarity with the technicalities of her profession. "'E wouldn't +take 'is turn to be attended to aboard of us--we was in a Destroyer, +an' picked 'im up 'angin' on to a spar. Would 'ave the doctor fix up a +German prisoner wot was bleedin' to death. Said 'e wasn't in no +particular 'urry, speakin' for 'isself. An' 'im a-bleedin' to death, +too. As fine a gentleman as ever stepped." + +The other nodded, warming, sailor-like, to the hero-worship of an +officer. "That's right, Sister. 'E give 'is life for one of them +Germans, you might say." + +"Is he dead?" asked Margaret in her clear, incisive tones. + +"Yes, Sister." The speaker knelt down and turned back the hood, +uncovering the face and shoulders of the motionless figure on the +stretcher. + +For a moment a feeling of giddiness seized Margaret. A great blackness +seemed to close round her, shutting out the busy scene, the voices of +the bearers, and the shuffle of their feet across the tiled hall. With +a supreme effort she mastered herself, and somehow knew she had been +waiting for this moment, expecting it. . . . + +The man who had been kneeling rose to his feet, and the two stood +before her as if awaiting orders. Outside the entrance a motor +ambulance arrived and drew up with throbbing engine. + +"The mortuary----" she began. "No--bring him here . . . out of all +this." She walked across the hall and opened the door of the small +room on the left of the entrance. The scent of roses greeted them: it +was the room from which she had fetched her glasses early in the +morning. + +The two men deposited the stretcher on the floor and came out, glancing +at her white face as they passed. "Shall we carry on, Sister?" + +"What? . . . Oh, yes, please." + +They saluted awkwardly, and left her standing irresolute, as if dazed, +in the midst of all the bustle and traffic of suffering. + +He had come back to her. Torps, who in life had never broken his word, +was also faithful to it in death. + + + +2 + +The journey across the lawn to one of the seats in the shelter of the +clipped hedge of evergreens was accomplished at length. + +The Indiarubber Man lowered himself with a little grimace into the +seat, and laid the crutches down beside him. One leg, encased in +splints and bandages, was stiffly outstretched on a stool in front of +him; his uniform cap--a very disreputable one, with a tarnished +badge--was perched on top of the bandages that still swathed his head. + +"Phew!" he said; "thank you. That was a bit of a Marathon, wasn't it?" +He measured the distance across the lawn with a humorous eye. + +"It was very good for a first attempt," said Betty, considering him +professionally. "Is that leg comfortable?" + +"Quite, thank you." He leaned back and closed his eyes with a +luxurious sigh. "'Pon my word, this is what I call cutting it pretty +fat. Fancy my lolling here in the sun, and you . . . and you----" he +opened his eyes, regarding her as she stood before him in her trim, +nurse's uniform. "It's quite like a play, isn't it, where everything +comes right in the end? Miss Betty----" + +"You mustn't call me that," said Betty primly. "I told you before. +You must say 'Nurse.'" + +"Can't I say 'Nurse Betty'?" + +"My name is Elizabeth. If you wanted to distinguish me from other +nurses you might conceivably say 'Nurse Elizabeth.' But even that's +not necessary, as I'm the only nurse here at the moment." + +The Indiarubber Man looked cautiously round the sunlit enclosure. +"True. So you are----" + +"And it's time for your beef-tea," added Betty severely, marching off +in the direction of the distant wing. + +Her patient watched her slim form retreating and vanish down a green +alley. "You dear," he said, "you dear!" He meditated awhile. "It's a +rum world," he soliloquised. "Torps has gone. The Young Doc.'s gone. +The Pay's gone." + +He mused awhile. "But we gave 'em an almighty hammering. And here am +I, alive and kicking again. And there's Betty. . . . It's a rum +world." He bent forward and gathered a daisy growing in the border +beside his seat. With his bleached, rather unsteady, fingers, he began +picking the petals from it one by one. + +"She does, she doesn't. She does, she doesn't. She doesn't," repeated +the Indiarubber Man in a woeful voice. + +A thrush hopped across the lawn, and paused to regard him with one +bright eye. Apparently reassured, it deftly secured and swallowed a +worm. + +The Indiarubber Man laughed. "Doesn't anybody love you either?" he +said. + +Betty reappeared in the distance carrying a tray in her hands. The +thrush, as if realising that two is company and three none, flew away. + +Betty handed a cup to the invalid. "There's a piece of toast too--you +must soak it in the beef-tea, and here is a little bell. If you want +anything, or you aren't comfortable, you can ring it." + +"I see." The Indiarubber Man gravely accepted all three gifts and laid +them on the seat beside him. "Thank you awfully. But you aren't going +away, are you?" + +"Of course I am," said Betty. "I'm very busy. You _must_ remember +that this is a hospital, that you're a patient and I'm a nurse." She +moved off sedately. + +"Miss Betty!" called the Indiarubber Man. "I mean 'Nurse.'" Betty +turned and retraced her footsteps. "Wouldn't it be awful if I was +suddenly taken very ill indeed--if I came over all of a tremble, and +tried to ring the toast and soaked the bell in my beef-tea?" + +"From what I've seen of you during the last six weeks," replied Betty +the Hospital Nurse, "such a thing wouldn't surprise me a little bit." +She left him to his graceless self. + +For a while after she had gone the Indiarubber Man tried to read a +book. Tiring of that, he lit a pipe and smoked it without enthusiasm. +Tobacco tasted oddly flavourless and unfamiliar. Then he remembered +his beef-tea and drank it obediently, soaking the toast as he had been +bidden. Remained the bell. For a long time he sat staring at it. + +"Much better get it over," he said aloud. "One way or the other." + +Cautiously he looked round. No one was in sight; the windows at the +back of the hospital that overlooked this secluded lawn had been the +windows of class-rooms, and were of frosted glass. With the aid of his +crutches he got up unsteadily, and then, maintaining a precarious +balance with one crutch, he thrust the other one under the seat +leverwise, and with an effort tipped it over backwards on to the +flowerbed. + +This accomplished, the Indiarubber Man looked round again to convince +himself that the manoeuvre was unobserved. Reassured on this point, he +lowered himself down gingerly over the seat until he was lying on his +back with his legs in the air and his head in a clump of marigolds. In +this attitude he seized the bell and rang it furiously, feebly waving +his uninjured leg the while. + +The moments passed. From his prostrate position behind the seat he was +unable to obtain a view of the lawn, and stopped ringing the bell to +listen. He heard a faint cry in the distance, and then the flutter of +skirts. The next instant Betty was bending over him, white and +breathless. + +"Oh!" she cried, "how _did_ it happen? Did the seat tip over +backwards--are you hurt?" and kneeling beside him raised his unhallowed +head. The Indiarubber Man closed his eyes. + +"You told me to ring if I wasn't comfortable, and I wasn't a bit. I +hate the smell of marigolds too. No--please don't move; I'm very +comfortable now." Betty looked wildly in the direction of the house +for help. + +"I heard the bell," she said in a queer, breathless little voice, "and +I just came out to look . . . and then I ran. I ought to have called +someone. Ring the bell--I can't move you by myself. We must have +assistance. How _did_ this happen?" + +The Indiarubber Man opened his eyes. "The seat tipped over backwards." + +"But _how_?" + +"It--it just tipped--as it were." + +"Will you promise to lie still for one minute while I run for help--are +you in pain?" + +"No. As a matter of fact, I wanted to ask you a question." + +"What?" asked Betty, reaching for the bell with her disengaged hand. + +"Betty, will you marry me?" + +The Indiarubber Man's bandaged head was deposited once more among the +marigolds. Betty rose to her feet, astonishment and indignation +joining forces to overcome laughter within her. The resultant of all +three was something suspiciously like tears. + +"_What_? Oh, I do believe--I don't believe it was an accident at +all----" + +"Will you, Betty?" queried the Indiarubber Man from the depths of the +marigolds. + +Voices sounded beyond the yews. A white-coated orderly appeared in the +distance, stood a moment in astonishment, and came running across the +grass towards them. + +"Quick! There's someone coming. I swear I won't be budged till you +answer." + +The orderly arrived panting. "What's up, miss, an accident?" + +"Oh," gasped Betty. "Yes!" + +The Indiarubber Man suffered himself to be moved. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALL SHIP*** + + +******* This file should be named 25749-8.txt or 25749-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/7/4/25749 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/25749-8.zip b/25749-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..748edc5 --- /dev/null +++ b/25749-8.zip diff --git a/25749.txt b/25749.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb903de --- /dev/null +++ b/25749.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5251 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Tall Ship, by Sir Lewis Anselm da Costa +Ritchie + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: A Tall Ship + On Other Naval Occasions + + +Author: Sir Lewis Anselm da Costa Ritchie + + + +Release Date: June 10, 2008 [eBook #25749] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALL SHIP*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Transcriber's note: + + "Bartimeus" is the pseudonym of Captain Lewis Ritchie, R.N. + + + + + +A TALL SHIP + +On Other Naval Occasions + +by + +"BARTIMEUS" + +Author of "Naval Occasions" + + + + + + + + . . . "All I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, + * * * + And a laughing yarn from a merry fellow rover, + And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over." + JOHN MASEFIELD + + + + +Cassell and Company, Ltd +London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne + +First published September 1915. +Reprinted September and October 1915. + + + + +To + +H. M. S. + + + + +PREFACE + +It is almost superfluous to observe that the following sketches contain +no attempt at the portrait of an individual. The majority are etched +in with the ink of pure imagination. A few are "composite" sketches of +a large number of originals with whom the Author has been shipmates in +the past and whose friendship he is grateful to remember. + +Of these, some, alas! have finished "the long trick." To them, at no +risk of breaking their quiet sleep--_Ave atque vale_. + +"Crab-Pots," "The Day," and "Chummy-Ships" appeared originally in +_Blackwood's Magazine_, and are reproduced here by kind permission of +the Editor. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + 1. CRAB-POTS + 2. THE DRUM + 3. A CAPTAIN'S FORENOON + 4. THE SEVEN-BELL BOAT + 5. THE KING'S PARDON + 6. AN OFF-SHORE WIND + 7. THE DAY + 8. THE MUMMERS + 9. CHUMMY-SHIPS + 10. THE HIGHER CLAIM + + + + +A TALL SHIP + + +I + +CRAB-POTS + +1 + +In moments of crisis the disciplined human mind works as a thing +detached, refusing to be hurried or flustered by outward circumstance. +Time and its artificial divisions it does not acknowledge. It is +concerned with preposterous details and with the ludicrous, and it is +acutely solicitous of other people's welfare, whilst working at a speed +mere electricity could never attain. + +Thus with James Thorogood, Lieutenant, Royal Navy, when he--together +with his bath, bedding, clothes, and scanty cabin furniture, revolver, +first-aid outfit, and all the things that were his--was precipitated +through his cabin door across the aft-deck. The ship heeled violently, +and the stunning sound of the explosion died away amid the uproar of +men's voices along the mess-deck and the tinkle and clatter of broken +crockery in the wardroom pantry. + +"Torpedoed!" said James, and was in his conjecture entirely correct. +He emerged from beneath the debris of his possessions, shaken and +bruised, and was aware that the aft-deck (that spacious vestibule +giving admittance on either side to officers' cabins, and normally +occupied by a solitary Marine sentry) was filled with figures rushing +past him towards the hatchway. + +It was half-past seven in the morning. The Morning-watch had been +relieved and were dressing. The Middle-watch, of which James had been +one, were turning out after a brief three-hours' spell of sleep. +Officers from the bathroom, girt in towels, wardroom servants who had +been laying the table for breakfast, one or two Warrant-officers in sea +boots and monkey jackets--the Watch-below, in short--appeared and +vanished from his field of vision like figures on a screen. In no +sense of the word, however, did the rush resemble a panic. The +aft-deck had seen greater haste on all sides in a scramble on deck to +cheer a troopship passing the cruiser's escort. But the variety of +dress and undress, the expressions of grim anticipation in each man's +face as he stumbled over the uneven deck, set Thorogood's reeling mind, +as it were, upon its feet. + +The Surgeon, pyjama clad, a crimson streak running diagonally across +the lather on his cheek, suddenly appeared crawling on all-fours +through the doorway of his shattered cabin. "I always said those +safety-razors were rotten things," he observed ruefully. "I've just +carved my initials on my face. And my ankle's broken. Have we been +torpedoed, or what, at all? An' what game is it you're playing under +that bath, James? Are you pretending to be an oyster?" + +Thorogood pulled himself together and stood up. "I think one of their +submarines must have bagged us." He nodded across the flat to where, +beyond the wrecked debris of three cabins, the cruiser's side gaped +open to a clear sky and a line of splashing waves. Overhead on deck +the twelve-pounders were barking out a series of ear-splitting +reports--much as a terrier might yap defiance at a cobra over the +stricken body of its master. + +"I think our number's up, old thing." Thorogood bent and slipped his +arms under the surgeon's body. "Shove your arms round my neck. . . . +Steady!--hurt you? Heave! Up we go!" A Midshipman, ascending the +hatchway, paused and turned back. Then he ran towards them, spattering +through the water that had already invaded the flat. + +"Still!" sang a bugle on deck. There was an instant's lull in the +stampede of feet overhead. The voices of the officers calling orders +were silent. The only sounds were the lapping of the waves along the +riven hull and the intermittent reports of the quick-firers. Then came +the shrill squeal of the pipes. + +"Fall in!" roared a voice down the hatchway. "Clear lower deck! Every +soul on deck!" The bugle rang out again. + +Thorogood staggered with his burden across the buckled plating of the +flat, and reached the hatchway. The Midshipman who had turned back +passed him, his face white and set. "Here!" called the Lieutenant from +the bottom of the ladder. "This way, my son! Fall in's the order!" +For a moment the boy glanced back irresolute across the flat, now ankle +deep in water. The electric light had been extinguished, and in the +greenish gloom between decks he looked a small and very forlorn figure. +He pointed towards the wreckage of the after-cabin, called something +inaudible, and, turning, was lost to view aft. + +"That's the 'Pay's' cabin," said the Doctor between his teeth. "He was +a good friend to that little lad. I suppose the boy's gone to look for +him, and the 'Pay' as dead as a haddock, likely as not." + +Thorogood deposited the Surgeon on the upper deck, fetched a lifebuoy, +and rammed it over the injured man's shoulders. "God forgive me for +taking it," said the latter gratefully, "but my fibula's cracked to +blazes, an' I love my wife . . ." + +All round them men were working furiously with knives and crowbars, +casting off lashings from boats and baulks of timber on the booms, +wrenching doors and woodwork from their fastenings--anything capable of +floating and supporting a swimmer. The officers were encouraging the +men with words and example, steadying them with cheery catch-words of +their Service, ever with an eye on the forebridge, at the extreme end +of which the Captain was standing. + +On the after shelter-deck the Gunner, bare-headed and clad only in a +shirt and trousers, was, single-handed, loading and firing a +twelve-pounder as fast as he could snap the breech to and lay the gun. +His face was distorted with rage, and his black brows met across his +nose in a scowl that at any other time would have suggested acute +melodrama. Half a mile away the shots were striking the water with +little pillars of white spray. + +The figure on the forebridge made a gesture with his arm. "Fall in!" +shouted the Commander. "Fall in, facing outboard, and strip! Stand by +to swim for it!" Seven hundred men--bluejackets, stokers, and +marines--hurriedly formed up and began to divest themselves of their +clothes. They were drawn up regardless of class or rating, and a burly +Marine Artilleryman, wriggling out of his cholera belt, laughed in the +blackened face of a stoker fresh from the furnace door. + +"Cheer up, mate!" he said encouragingly. "You'll soon 'ave a chance to +wash your bloomin' face!" + +The ship gave a sudden lurch, settled deeper in the water, and began to +heel slowly over. The Captain, clinging to the bridge rail to maintain +his balance, raised the megaphone to his mouth: + +"Carry on!" he shouted. "Every man for himself!"--he lowered the +megaphone and added between his teeth--"and God for us all!" + +The ship was lying over at an angle of sixty degrees, and the men were +clustered along the bulwarks and nettings as if loath to leave their +stricken home even at the eleventh hour. A muscular Leading Seaman was +the first to go--a nude, pink figure, wading reluctantly down the +sloping side of the cruiser, for all the world like a child paddling. +He stopped when waist deep and looked back. "'Ere!" he shouted, "'ow +far is it to Yarmouth? No more'n a 'undred an' fifty miles, is it? I +gotter aunt livin' there. . . ." + +Then came the rush, together with a roar of voices, shouts and cheers, +cries for help, valiant, quickly stifled snatches of "Tipperary," and, +over all, the hiss of escaping steam. + +"She wouldn't be 'arf pleased to see yer, Nobby!" shouted a voice above +the hubbub. "Not 'arf she wouldn't! Nah then, 'oo's for compulsory +bathin'. . . . Gawd! ain't it cold! . . ." + + * * * * * + +How he found himself in the water, Thorogood had no very clear +recollection; but by instinct he struck out through the welter of +gasping, bobbing heads till he was clear of the clutching menace of the +drowning. The Commander, clad simply in his wrist-watch and uniform +cap, was standing on the balsa raft, with scores of men hanging to its +support. "Get away from the ship!" he was bawling at the full strength +of his lungs. "Get clear before she goes----!" + +The stern of the cruiser rose high in the air, and she dived with +sickening suddenness into the grey vortex of waters. Pitiful cries for +help sounded on all sides. Two cutters and a few hastily constructed +rafts were piled with survivors; others swam to and fro, looking for +floating debris, or floated, reserving their strength. + +The cries and shouts grew fewer. + +Thorogood had long parted with his support--the broken loom of an +oar--and was floating on his back, when he found himself in close +proximity to two figures clinging to an empty breaker. One he +recognised as a Midshipman, the other was a bearded Chief Stoker. The +boy's teeth were chattering and his face was blue with cold. + +"W-w-what were you g-g-g-oing to have for b-b-b-breakfast in your +m-m-mess?" he was asking his companion in misfortune. + +Hang it all, a fellow of fifteen had to show somehow he wasn't afraid +of dying. + +"Kippers," replied the Chief Stoker, recognising his part and playing +up to it manfully. "I'm partial to a kipper, meself--an' fat +'am. . . ." + +The Midshipman caught sight of Thorogood, and raised an arm in +greeting. As he did so a sudden spasm of cramp twisted his face like a +mask. He relaxed his grasp of the breaker and sank instantly. + +The two men reappeared half a minute later empty handed, and clung to +the barrel exhausted. + +"It's all chalked up somewhere, I suppose," spluttered James, gasping +for his breath. + +"Child murder, sir, I reckon that is," was the tense reply. "That's on +their slop ticket all right. . . . 'Kippers,' I sez, skylarkin' +like . . . an' 'e sinks like a stone. . . ." + +Among the wavetops six hundred yards away a slender, upright object +turned in a wide circle and moved slowly northward. To the south a +cluster of smoke spirals appeared above the horizon, growing gradually +more distinct. The party in one of the cutters raised a wavering cheer. + +"Cheer up for Chatham!" shouted a clear voice across the grey waste of +water. "Here come the destroyers! . . . Stick it, my hearties!" + + * * * * * + +After a month's leave James consulted a specialist. He was a very wise +man, and his jerky discourse concerned shocked nerve-centres and reflex +actions. "That's all right," interrupted the thoroughly startled James +(sometime wing three-quarter for the United Services XV.), "but what +defeats me is not being able to cross a London street without 'coming +over all of a tremble'! An' when I try to light a cigarette"--he +extended an unsteady hand--"look! . . . I'm as fit as a fiddle, +really. Only the Medical Department won't pass me for service afloat. +An' I want to get back, d'you see? There's a super-Dreadnought +commissioning soon----" + +The specialist wrote cabalistic signs on a piece of paper. "Bracing +climate--East Coast for preference. . . . Plenty of exercise. Walk. +Fresh air. Early hours. Come and see me again in a fortnight, and get +this made up. That's all right"--he waved aside James's proffered +guineas. "Don't accept fees from naval or military. . . . Least we +can do is to mend you quickly. 'Morning. . . ." + +James descended the staircase, and passed a tall, lean figure in soiled +khaki ascending, whom the public (together with his wife and family) +had every reason to suppose was at that moment in the neighbourhood of +Ypres. + +"If it weren't for those fellows I couldn't be here," was his greeting +to the specialist. He jerked his grey, close-cropped head towards the +door through which Thorogood had just passed. + + + +2 + +A ramshackle covered cart laden with an assortment of tinware had +stopped on the outskirts of the village. The owner, a bent scarecrow +of a fellow, was effecting repairs to his nag's harness with a piece of +string. Evening was setting in, and the south-east wind swept a grey +haze across the coast road and sombre marshes. The tinker completed +first-aid to the harness, and stood at the front of the cart to light +his lamps. The first match blew out, and he came closer to the body of +the vehicle for shelter from the wind. + +At that moment a pedestrian passed, humming a little tune to himself, +striding along through the November murk with swinging gait. It may +have been that his voice, coming suddenly within range of the mare's +ears, conveyed a sound of encouragement. Perhaps the lights of the +village, twinkling out one by one along the street, suggested stables +and a nosebag. Anyhow, the tinker's nag threw her weight suddenly into +the collar, the wheel of the cart passed over the tinker's toe, and the +tinker uttered a sudden exclamation. + +In the circumstances it was a pardonable enough ebullition of feeling +and ought not to have caused the passing pedestrian to spin round on +his heel, astonishment on every line of his face. The next moment, +however, he recovered himself. "Did you call out to me?" he shouted. + +The tinker was nursing his toe, apparently unconscious of having given +anyone more food for thought than usual. "No," he replied gruffly. "I +'urt myself." + +The passer-by turned and pursued his way to the village. The tinker +lit his lamps and followed. He was a retiring sort of tinker, and +employed no flamboyant methods to advertise his wares. He jingled +through the village without attracting any customers--or apparently +desiring to attract any--and followed the sandy coast road for some +miles. + +At length he pulled up, and from his seat on the off-shaft sat +motionless for a minute, listening. The horse, as if realising that +its dreams of a warm stable were dreams indeed, hung its head +dejectedly, and in the faint gleam, of the lamp its breath rose in thin +vapour. The man descended from his perch on the shaft and, going to +his nag's head, turned the cart off the road. + +For some minutes the man and horse stumbled through the darkness; the +cart jolted, and the tin merchandise rattled dolefully. The tinker, +true to the traditions of his calling, swore again. Then he found what +he had been looking for, an uneven track that wound among the +sand-dunes towards the shore. The murmur of the sea became suddenly +loud and distinct. + +With a jerk the horse and cart came to a standstill. In a leisurely +fashion the tinker unharnessed his mare, tied a nosebag on her, and +tethered her to the tail of the cart. In the same deliberate manner he +rummaged about among his wares till he produced a bundle of sticks and +some pieces of turf. With these under his arm, he scrambled off across +the sand-hills to the sea. + +The incoming tide sobbed and gurgled along miniature headlands of rock +that stretched out on either side of a little bay. The sand-hills +straggled down almost to high-water mark, where the winter storms had +piled a barrier of kelp and debris. At one place a rough track down to +the shingle had been worn in the sand by the feet of fishermen using +the cove in fine weather during the summer. + +The tinker selected a site for his fire in a hollow that opened to the +sea. He built a hearth with flat stones, fetched a kettle from the +cart, kindled the fire, and busied himself with preparations for his +evening meal. This concluded, he laid a fresh turf of peat upon the +embers, banked the sand up all round till the faint glow was invisible +a few yards distant, and lit a pipe. + +The night wore on. Every now and again the man rose, climbed a +sand-hill, and stood listening, returning each time to his vigil by the +fire. At length he leaned forward and held the face of his watch near +the fire-glow. Apparently the time had come for action of some sort, +for he rose and made off into the darkness. When he reappeared he +carried a tin pannikin in his hand, and stood motionless by the fire, +staring out to sea. + +Ten minutes he waited; then, suddenly, he made an inaudible +observation. A light appeared out of the darkness beyond the headland, +winked twice, and vanished. The tinker approached his fire and swilled +something from his pannikin on to the glowing embers. A flame shot up +about three feet, and died down, flickering. The tin contained +paraffin, and three times the tinker repeated the strange rite. Then +he sat down and waited. + +A quarter of an hour passed before something grated on the shingle of +the beach, scarcely perceptible above the lap of the waves. The tinker +rose to his feet, shovelled the sand over the embers of his fire, and +descended the little path to the beach. The night was inky dark, and +for a moment he paused irresolute. Then a dark form appeared against +the faintly luminous foam, wading knee deep and dragging the bows of a +small skiff towards the shore. The tinker gave a low whistle, and the +wader paused. + +"_Fritz!_" he said guardedly. + +"_Ja! Hier!_" replied the tinker, advancing. + +"_Gott sei dank!_" said the other. He left the boat and waded ashore. +The two men shook hands. "Where's the cart?" asked the low voice in +German. + +"Among the sand-hills. You will want assistance. Have you more than +one with you in the boat?" + +"Yes." The new-comer turned and gave a brusque order. Another figure +waded ashore and joined the two men, a tall, bearded fellow in duffel +overalls. As his feet reached the sand he spat ostentatiously. The +tinker led the way to the cart. + +"It is dark," said the first man from the sea. "How many cans have you +got?" + +"Forty-eight. I could get no more without exciting suspicion. They +have requisitioned one of my cars as it is." + +The other gave a low laugh. "What irony! Well, that will last till +Friday. But you must try and get more then. I will be here at the +same time; no, the tide will not suit--at 8 a.m. We can come inside +then. Did you remember the cigarettes?" + +"Yes." The tinker climbed into the cart and handed a petrol tin down +to the speaker. "_Ein!_" he said. "Count them," and lifted out +another. "_Zwei!_" The third man, who had not hitherto spoken, +received them with a grunt, and set off down to the boat with his +burden. + +Eight times the trio made the journey to and from the beach. Three +times they waited while the tiny collapsible boat ferried its cargo out +to where, in the darkness, a long, black shadow lay, with the water +lapping round it, like a partly submerged whale. The last time the +tinker remained alone on the beach. + +He stood awhile staring out into the darkness, and at length turned to +retrace his steps. As he reached the shelter of the sand-dunes a tall +shadow rose out of the ground at his feet, and the next instant he was +writhing on his face in the grip of an exceedingly effective +neck-and-arm lock. + +"If you try to kick, my pippin," said the excited voice of James +Thorogood, "I shall simply break your arm--so!" + +The face in the sand emitted a muffled squark. + +"Keep still, then." + +The two men breathed heavily for a minute. + +"Don't swear, either. That's what got you into this trouble, that +deplorable habit of swearing aloud in German. But I will say, for a +tinker, you put a very neat West Country whipping on that bit of broken +harness. I've been admiring it. Didn't know they taught you that in +the German navy--_don't_ wriggle." + + + +3 + +James Thorogood, retaining a firm hold on his companion's arm, bent +down and gathered a handful of loose earth from a flower-bed at his +feet. The moonlight, shining fitfully through flying clouds, illumined +the face of the old house and the two road-stained figures standing +under its walls. It was a lonely, rambling building, partly sheltered +from the prevailing wind by a clump of poplars, and looking out down an +avenue bordered by untidy rhododendrons. + +"Won't Uncle Bill be pleased!" said James, and flung his handful of +earth with relish against one of the window-panes on the first floor. +He and his captive waited in silence for some minutes; then he repeated +the assault. Soon a light wavered behind the curtains, the sash +lifted, and a head and shoulders appeared. + +"Hallo!" said a man's voice. + +"Uncle Bill!" called James. There was a moment's silence. + +"Well?" said the voice again, patiently. + +"Uncle Bill! It's me--Jim. Will you come down and open the door? And +don't wake Janet, whatever you do." Janet was the housekeeper, stone +deaf these fifteen years. + +The head and shoulders disappeared. Again the light flickered, grew +dim, and vanished. "This way," said James, and led his companion round +an angle of the house into the shadow of the square Georgian porch. +The bolts were being withdrawn as they reached the steps, and a tall, +grey-haired man in a dressing-gown opened the door. He held a candle +above his head and surveyed the wayfarers through a rimless monocle. + +"Didn't expect you till to-morrow," was his laconic greeting. "Brought +a friend?" + +"He's not a friend exactly," said James, pushing his companion in +through the door, and examining him curiously by the light of the +candle. "But I'll tell you all about him later on. His name's Fritz. +D'you mind if I lock him in the cellar?" + +"Do," replied Uncle Bill dryly. He produced a bunch of keys from the +pocket of his dressing-gown. "It's the thin brass key. There's some +quite decent brandy in the farthest bin on the right-hand side, if +you're thinking of making a night of it down there. Take the candle; +I'm going back to bed." + +"Don't go to bed," called James from the head of the stairs. "I want +to have a yarn with you in a minute. Light the gas in the dining-room." + +Five minutes later he reappeared carrying a tray with cold beef, bread, +and a jug of beer upon it. Uncle Bill stood in front of the dead ashes +of his hearth considering his nephew through his eyeglass. "I hope you +made--er--Fritz comfortable? You look as if you had been doing a +forced march. Nerves better?" + +James set down his empty glass with a sigh and wiped his mouth. "As +comfortable as he deserves to be. He's a spy, Uncle Bill. I caught +him supplying petrol to a German submarine." + +"Really?" said Uncle Bill, without enthusiasm. "That brandy cost me +180s. a dozen. Wouldn't he be better in a police station? Have you +informed the Admiralty?" + +"I venerate the police," replied James flippantly, "and the Admiralty +are as a father and mother to me; but I want to keep this absolutely +quiet for a few days--anyhow, till after Friday. I couldn't turn Fritz +over to a policeman without attracting a certain amount of attention. +Anyhow, it would leak out if I did. I've walked eighteen miles already +since midnight, and it's another fifty-nine to the Admiralty from here. +Besides, unless I disguise Fritz as a performing bear, people would +want to know why I was leading him about on a rope's end----" + +"Start at the beginning," interrupted Uncle Bill wearily, "and explain, +avoiding all unnecessary detail." + +So James, between mouthfuls, gave a brief resume of the night's +adventure, while Sir William Thorogood, Professor of Chemistry and +Adviser to the Admiralty on Submarine Explosives, stood and shivered on +the hearthrug. + +"And it just shows," concluded his nephew, "what a three-hours' swim in +the North Sea does for a chap's morals." He eyed his Uncle Bill +solemnly. "I even chucked the fellow's seamanship in his teeth!" + +Sir William polished his eyeglass with a silk handkerchief and replaced +it with care. + +"_Did_ you!" he said. + + + +4 + +A squat tub of a boat, her stern piled high with wicker crab-pots, came +round the northern headland and entered the little bay. The elderly +fisherman who was rowing rested on his oars and sat contemplating the +crab-pots in the stem. A younger man, clad in a jersey and sea boots, +was busy coiling down something in the bows. "How about this spot," he +said presently, looking up over his shoulder, "for the first one?" The +rower fumbled about inside his tattered jacket, produced something that +glistened in the sunlight, and screwed it into his eye. + +"Uncle Bill!" protested the younger fisherman, "do unship that thing. +If there _is_ anyone watching us, it will give the whole show away." + +Sir William Thorogood surveyed the harbour with an expressionless +countenance. "I consider that having donned these unsavoury +garments--did Janet bake them thoroughly, by the way?--I have already +forfeited my self-respect quite sufficiently. How much of the circuit +have you got off the drum?" + +"Six fathoms." + +"That's enough for the first, then." The speaker rose, lifted a +crab-pot with an effort, and tipped it over the side of the boat. The +cable whizzed out over the gunwale for a few seconds and stopped. +Uncle Bill resumed paddling for a little distance, and repeated the +manoeuvre eight times in a semi-circle round the inside of the bay, +across the entrance. "That's enough," he observed at length, as the +last crab-pot sank with a splash. "Don't want to break all their +windows ashore. These will do all they're intended to." He propelled +the boat towards the shore, while James paid out the weighted cable. +The bows of the boat grated on the shingle, and the elder man climbed +out. "Hand me the battery and the firing key--in that box under the +thwart there. Now bring the end of the cable along." + +As they toiled up the shifting flank of a sand-dune, James indicated a +charred spot in the sand. "That's where he showed the flare, Uncle +Bill." + +Uncle Bill nodded disinterestedly. Side by side they topped the tufted +crest of the dune and vanished among the sand-hills. + + * * * * * + +Somewhere across the marshes a church clock was striking midnight when +a big covered car pulled up at the roadside in the spot where, a few +nights before, the tinker's cart had turned off among the sand-hills. +The driver switched the engine off and extinguished the lights. Two +men emerged from the body of the car; one, a short, thick-set figure +muffled in a Naval overcoat, stamped up and down to restore his +circulation. "Is this the place?" he asked. + +"Part of it," replied the voice of Uncle Bill from the driving seat. +"My nephew will show you the rest. I shall stay here, if Jim doesn't +mind handing me the Thermos flask and my cigar-case--thanks." + +James walked round the rear of the car and began groping about in the +dry ditch at the roadside. + +"Don't say you can't find it, Jim," said Sir William. He bent forward +to light his cigar, and the flare of the match shone on his dress +shirt-front and immaculate white tie. He refastened his motoring coat, +and leaned back puffing serenely. + +"Got it!" said a voice from the ditch, and James reappeared, carrying a +small box and trailing something behind him. He held it out to the +short man with gold oak leaves round his cap-peak. His hand trembled +slightly. + +"Here's the firing key, sir!" + +"Oh, thanks. Let's put it in the sternsheets of the car till I come +back. I'd like to have a look at the spot." + +"You'll get your boots full of sand," said Uncle Bill's voice under the +hood. + +James lifted a small sack and an oil-can out of the motor, and the two +figures vanished side by side into the night. + +Half an hour later the elder man reappeared. "He's going to blow a +whistle," he observed, and climbed into the body of the car, where Sir +William was now sitting under a pile of rugs. He made room for the +new-comer. + +"Have some rug . . . and here's the foot-warmer. . . . I see. And +then you--er--do the rest? The box is on the seat beside you." + +The other settled down into his seat and tucked the rug round himself. +"Thanks," was the grim reply. "Yes, I'll do the rest!" He lit a pipe, +and smoked in silence, as if following a train of thought. "My boy +would have been sixteen to-morrow. . . ." + +"Ah!" said Uncle Bill. + +An hour passed. The Naval man refilled and lit another pipe. By the +light of the match he examined his watch. "I suppose you tested the +contacts?" he asked at length in a low voice. + +"Yes," was the reply, and they lapsed into silence again. The other +shifted his position slightly and raised his head, staring into the +darkness beyond the road whence came the faint, continuous murmur of +the sea. + +Seaward a faint gleam of light threw into relief for an instant the +dark outline of a sand-dune, and sank into obscurity again. + +Uncle Bill's eyeglass dropped against the buttons of his coat with a +tinkle. The grim, silent man beside him lifted something on to his +knees, and there was a faint click like the safety-catch of a gun being +released. + +A frog in the ditch near by set up a low, meditative croaking. Uncle +Bill raised his head abruptly. Their straining ears caught the sound +of someone running, stumbling along the uneven track that wound in from +the shore. A whistle cut the stillness like a knife. + +There was a hoarse rumble seaward that broke into a deafening roar, and +was succeeded by a sound like the bursting of a dam. The car rocked +with the concussion, and the fragments of the shattered wind-screen +tinkled down over the bonnet and footboard. + +Then utter, absolute silence. + + + + +II + +THE DRUM + +1 + +Ole Jarge put down the baler and wiped the perspiration from his +forehead. A few fish scales transferred themselves from the back of +his oakum-coloured hand to his venerable brow. + +"'Tain't no use," he murmured. "'Er's nigh twenty year' ole--come nex' +month. Tar ain't no use neither. 'Tis new strakes 'ers wantin'." He +thumbed the seams of the old boat that lay on the shingle, with the +outgoing tide still lapping round her stern. "An' new strakes do cost +tarrible lot." He sat puffing his clay pipe, and transferred his gaze +from the bottom of the boat to the whitewashed cottages huddled under +the lee of the cliffs. A tall figure was moving about the nets that +festooned the low wall in front of the cottages. + +Ole Jarge removed his pipe from his mouth, substituted two fingers of +his right hand, and gave a long, shrill whistle. It was a +disconcerting performance. For one thing, you associated the trick +with irrepressible boyhood, and, for another, the old man squinted +slightly as he did it. As a matter of fact, he had learned it on the +Dogger Bank fifty years before; fog-bound in a dory, it was a useful +accomplishment. + +Young Jarge straightened up, raised one hand in acknowledgment of the +summons, and came crunching slowly across the shingle towards the boat. +Ole Jarge sat smoking in philosophical silence till his son was beside +him. Then he removed his pipe and spat over the listed gunwale. + +"'Er's daid," he observed laconically. + +Young Jarge bent stiffly and tapped the seams, inside and out, much as +a veterinary surgeon runs his hand over a horse's legs. + +"Ya-a-is," he confirmed, and sat down on the stem of the old boat. +"'Er's very nigh's ole 's what us be," he added, after a pause, and +began shredding some tobacco into the palm of his hand. + +Ole Jarge nodded. Then he lifted his head quickly. "'Er's bound to +last 'nother year." For the first time there was concern in his voice. +Adversity does not grip the mind of the Cornish fisherfolk suddenly. +It filters slowly through the chinks of the armour God has given them. +Cornish men (and surely Cornish maids) were kind to the survivors of +the wrecked Armada. It may be that they, in their turn, bequeathed a +strain of Southern fatalism to many of their benefactors. + +"'Er's bound to," repeated Ole Jarge. He got ponderously out of the +boat and removed a tattered sou'wester to scratch his head with his +thumbnail--another trick that had survived the adventurous days of the +Dogger Bank. + +The unfamiliar note of anxiety in his father's voice stirred Young +Jarge. He rose to his feet with perplexity in his dark eyes, +mechanically pulling up the bleached leather thigh-boots he wore afloat +and ashore, "rainy-come-fine." + +Inspiration had come, as it does to men of the West once the need is +realised to the full. + +"Du 'ee mind that there li'l' ole copper boiler--what come out o' +granfer's house when 'er blawed down--back tu '98?" asked Young Jarge +slowly. + +Ole Jarge nodded. + +"S'pose us was to hammer 'n out flat like an' nail un down to bottom, +'long wi' oakum an' drop o' white lead--what du 'ee say?" + +Ole Jarge silently measured the area of the sprunk strakes with the +stumpy thumb and little finger of an outstretched hand. Then he +puckered his forehead and stared out to sea, apparently making mental +calculations connected with the "li'l' ole copper boiler." + +"Ya-a-ais." He replaced the piece of perished tarpaulin that had once +been a sou'-wester on his head, and set off slowly across the shingle +towards the village. Young Jarge followed, staring at his boots as he +walked. + +"Us 'll hammer 'n out after tea," said Ole Jarge over his shoulder. +His great, great, very great grandfather would have said "_Manana!_" + + * * * * * + +The setting sun had tipped the dancing wavelets with fire and was +glowing red in each pool left by the receding tide when Ole Jarge +emerged from his cottage door. In one hand he carried a hammer, and in +the other a tin of white lead. Young Jarge joined him with a small, +square copper boiler in his arms. + +"Where'll us put un tu, feyther?" + +Ole Jarge set off across the beach in the direction of the boat. +"Bring un along!" he commanded in a manner dimly suggestive of a lord +high executioner. + +Young Jarge followed, and dumped his burden down alongside the boat. + +"Now!" said Ole Jarge grimly. He spat on his hands and prepared to +enjoy himself. Bang! bang! bang-a-bang! bang! went the hammer. Young +Jarge sat down on the gunwale of the boat and contemplated his parent's +exertions. + +"It du put Oi in mind of a drum," he said appreciatively. + + + +2 + +"Now we can talk!" Margaret settled her back comfortably against a +ridge of turf and closed her eyes for a moment. + +"Isn't it heavenly up here? The wind smells of seaweed, and there must +be some shrub or flower----" She opened her eyes and looked along the +cliffs, "There's something smelling divinely. Wild broom, is it?" + +Her gaze travelled along the succession of ragged headlands and +crescents of sand formed by each little bay of the indented coast. The +coastguard track, a brown thread winding adventurously among the clumps +of gorse at the very edge of the cliffs, drew her eyes farther and +farther to the west. In the far distance the track dipped sharply over +a headland where the whitewashed coastguard station stood, and was lost +to view. She turned and smiled at her companion. "Now we can talk," +she repeated. + +Torps, sitting beside her, met her eyes with his grave, gentle smile. +"I'm so glad to see you again," he said, "that I can't think of +anything else to say. It was nice of you to write and tell me you were +here." + +As if by common consent, they had discussed nothing but generalities +during the half-hour's walk that brought them to this sheltered hollow +in the cliffs. The woman was, of the two, the more reluctant to bridge +the years that lay between to-day and their last meeting. Yet, +womanlike, it was she that spoke first. + +"I knew your ship was quite close. I wanted to see you again, Trevor, +after all these years. Tell me about yourself. Your letters--yes, I +know; but you never talked much about yourself in your letters." + +He shook his head quietly. "No, you tell first." + +"There isn't much to tell." She interlaced her fingers round her +updrawn knees. Her grey eyes were turned to the sea, and Torps watched +her profile against the sky wistfully, studying the pure brow, the +threads of silver appearing here and there in her soft brown hair, the +strong, almost boyish lines of mouth and chin. _En profile_, thus, she +looked very like a handsome boy. + +"I've been teaching at one of those training institutes for girls on +the East Coast. The principal, Miss Dacre is her name"--Margaret +paused as if expecting some comment from her companion: none +came--"Pauline Dacre; she was at school with mother: they were great +friends; and when mother died she offered me a home. . . . I had a +little money--enough to go through a course of training. I learned +things----" + +"What sort of things?" + +"Oh, cooking and laundry, and hygiene--domestic science it's called." +Torps nodded. "And then, when I knew enough to teach others, I went +to--to this place; I've been there ever since. And that's all. Now +it's your turn." + +Torps studied the traces of overwork and strain which showed in the +faintly accentuated cheekbones and which painted little tired shadows +about her eyelids. + +"No, it's not all. Why have you come down here?" + +"I--I----" She coloured as if accused. "I got a little run down . . . +that was all. But I've saved some money; I can afford a rest. I'm +what is called 'an independent gentlewoman of leisure' for a while." +She laughed, a gay little laugh. + +"Do you mean you are going back there again?" + +She looked at him with frank surprise. "Of course I am, silly!" + +"Don't go back . . . not to that life again. How can you? Shut up in +a sort of convent. . . . You can't be a school-marm all your life; you +were meant for other things. . . . I suppose you have to sleep on a +hard bed, and get up in the dark when a bell rings. There aren't any +carpets, and they don't give you enough to eat, as likely as not. +Margaret, why should you? It's the sort of work anyone can do-teaching +kids to mangle." + +"But . . . what do you think I am going to do with the remainder of my +days--crochet? embroider slippers for the curate? Trevor, you wouldn't +like me to come to that in my old age, would you?" She spoke with +gentle banter, as if to fend off something she feared. Had Torps known +it, she was fencing for the happiness of them both. + +He shook his head gravely. + +"I hoped--because you had written to me--that you weren't going +back. . . ." His thin, strong hand closed over hers, resting on the +turf between them. He bent his head as if considering their fingers. +"Margaret, dear----" + +"Ah, Trevor, don't--please don't. . . . Not again. I thought all that +was dead and buried years ago. And do you really think"--she smiled a +little sadly--"if I--if things were different--that I should have +written to ask you to meet me to-day? Have you learned so little of +women in all these years?" There was something besides sadness in her +eyes now: a wistful, half-maternal tenderness. He raised his head. + +"I've learned nothing about women, Margaret, but what I learned from +you." + +She gently withdrew her hand. "Trevor, we're not children any longer. +We're older and wiser. We----" + +"We're older--yes. But I don't see what that has to do with it, except +that my need is greater. . . . I'm a little lonelier. There's never +been anyone but you. I've never looked across the road at a woman in +my life--except you. I know we're not children, and for that reason we +ought to know our own minds. Do you know yours, Margaret?" + +Margaret bowed her head, collecting her thoughts and setting them in +order, before she answered: + +"It isn't easy to say what I have to say. You must be +patient--generous, as you can be, Trevor, of all the men I know." She +hesitated and coloured again a little. "You say you want me. If there +were no one else who I thought had a greater claim, you should--no, +hush! listen, dear--I would give you--what you want . . . gladly--oh, +gladly! But the children need me--my influence. . . . Miss Dacre said +it is doing the highest service one could for the Empire . . . theirs +is the higher claim. Can you understand? Oh, can you?" + +Torps made no reply, staring out to sea with sombre eyes. + +Gaining confidence with his silence, she continued the shy unfolding of +her ideals. "Nothing is too good for boys; no training is high enough, +because they are to be the builders and upholders of our Empire. Don't +you think that little girls, who are destined some day to be the mates +of these boys, should be prepared in a way that will make them worthy +of their share of the inheritance? They have to be taught ideals of +honour and courage and intelligent patriotism, so that they can help +and encourage their men in years to come. They must learn to cook and +sew, learn the laws of Nature and hygiene, so that they can make the +home not 'an habitation enforced'--as it is for so many women--but a +place where they may with all honour bring into the world other little +girls and boys. . . ." She drew her breath quickly. "Ah, that is not +a thing anyone can do, teaching all that! It must be someone who gives +all--and who gives herself gladly . . . as I have." + +Torps turned his head as if to speak, but checked himself. + +"Don't think I am setting myself upon a pedestal. Don't think my heart +is too anaemic to--to care for you, and that I am trying to shelter +myself behind talk of a life's mission. Oh!" she cried, "be generous. +Don't try to make it harder." + +She leaned towards him a little as he sat with lowered eyes. "This is +a time of grave anxiety, isn't it?" she continued gently, as if +explaining something to an impatient child. "You naval men ought to +know. There is talk of war everywhere--of war with Germany. They say +we are on the brink of it to-day." Torps nodded. "Supposing it came +now . . . and you were recalled. How do they recall you? Sound a +bugle--beat a drum?" + +Torps smiled faintly. "Something of the sort--no, not a drum; a bugle, +perhaps." + +"Well, we'll suppose it is a drum. One somehow associates it with war +and alarms. Would you hesitate to obey?" Torps refrained from the +obvious answer and plucked a grass-stem to put between his teeth. "You +would obey, wouldn't you, because it is your duty--however much you'd +like to sit here with me? Will you try to realise that I shall be only +answering the drum, too, when--I go back." + +The breeze that strayed about the floor of the Channel fanned their +faces and set the bright sea-poppies nodding all along the edge of the +cliffs. The sun was low in the west, and a snake-like flotilla of +destroyers crept out across the quiet sea from the harbour hidden by a +fold in the hills. Torps watched them with absent eyes, and there was +a long silence. The wind had loosened a strand of his companion's +hair, and she was busy replacing it with deft fingers. + +"Margaret," he replied at last, "you said just now that I understood +very little about women. I think you are right. Perhaps if I +understood more I might know how to muffle the drum so that you +wouldn't hear it. I might have learned to pipe a tune that would make +you not want to hear it. . . . I don't know. . . . But I accept all +you say--although deep down in my heart I know you are wrong. There +will come a day when you, too, will know you are wrong. I shall come +back then. And till then, since I must"--he smiled in a whimsical, sad +way that somehow relaxed the tension--"I lend you to the children." + +She returned his smile quite naturally, with relief in her eyes. "Dear +Trevor, yes . . . because they need me so. . . . Believe me, I am not +wrong: and we keep our friendship still, sweet and sane----" She broke +off suddenly and raised a slim forefinger, holding her head sideways to +listen, the way women and birds and children seem to hear better. +"Hark! Did you hear? How odd! Listen, Trevor!" + +Torps brought himself back with an effort. "Hear what?" + +"Listen!" + +He listened. + +"I can hear the waves along the shingle." + +"No, no. . . . There--now!" + +"Oh! . . . Yes, I can hear. . . . It sounds like a drum." + +"Trevor, it _is_ a drum, somewhere out at sea! How odd when we were +just talking about drums--hush! Oh, do listen. . . ." + +The sound, borne to them on the light wind, seemed to grow nearer; then +it waned till they could scarcely catch the beats. Anon it swelled +louder: the unmistakable "Dub! dub! rub-a-dub! dub! . . . Dub! dub! +dub!" of a far-off drum. + +Margaret shook his sleeve. "Of course it's a drum. It can't be +anything else, can it?" + +"It's Drake's Drum!" he replied, with mock solemnity. "There's a +legend in the West Country, you know----" + +"I know!" She nodded, bright eyed with interest, and rose to a +kneeling position to gaze beneath her palms out towards the west. The +sun had set, and a thin grey haze slowly veiled the horizon. Already +the warm afterglow was dying out of the sky. + +"He has 'quit the Port of Heaven,'" she quoted half-seriously, playing +with superstition as only women can, "and he's 'drumming up the +Channel'! They say it foretells war . . . that noise. . . ." Margaret +gave a little shiver and rose to her graceful height, extending both +her ringless hands to him. "It's getting chilly--come!" + +Torps rose to his feet, too, and for a moment faced her, with his +grave, patient eyes on hers. For the first time she noticed that his +hair was going grey about the temples, and, had he known it, Margaret +came very near to wavering in that moment. Perhaps he did realise, and +with quick, characteristic generosity helped her. + +"I think I understand," he said, "something of their need--the need of +the children for such as you. It--it----" He turned abruptly towards +the sea. The noise that resembled a distant drum had ceased, and there +was only the faint surge of the waves on the beaches far below. + +It was the only sound in all the land and sea. + + * * * * * + +In the whitewashed coastguard station a mile away the bearded occupant +on duty was finishing his tea. The skeleton of a herring lay on the +side of his plate, the centre of which the boatman was scouring with a +piece of bread (preparatory to occupying it with damson jam), when the +telephone bell rang. A man of economical habits, he put the bread in +his mouth, and, rising from the table, picked up the receiver. + +"_. . . Portree Signal Station--Yes._" + +"_. . . 'Oo? Yes._" + +He stood motionless with the receiver to his ear, his jaws moving +mechanically about the last of the piece of bread. Outside the little +room the wind thrummed in the halliards of the signal-mast. The clock +over the desk ticked out the deliberate seconds. A cat, curled up by +the window, rose, stretching itself, and yawned. + +"_. . . Prepare to mobilise. All officers and men are recalled from +leave. Detailed orders will follow. Right. Good-bye._" + +He replaced the receiver and rang off. Then, still masticating, he +executed a species of solemn war-dance in the middle of the floor. + +"Crikey!" he said aloud. "That means war, that do! Bloody war!" + +He snatched up a telescope and ran outside, still talking aloud to +himself after the manner of men who live much alone. "I see a bloke +an' 'is young woman along there this afternoon. I'd ha' said he was a +naval orficer if anyone was to ask me." He scanned the hills through +his glass for a moment, and then set off along the track that skirted +the edge of the cliffs. + +Margaret saw him first, a broad, blue-clad figure, threading his way +among the furze bushes. "And you won't be unhappy, will you, Trevor?" +she was saying. "You will understand, you----" She broke off to watch +the coastguard hurrying towards them. "Does that sailor want to speak +to us, do you think? He seems in a great hurry." + +Torps stood at her side staring. + +The coastguard drew near, wiping his face with a vast blue and white +spotted handkerchief, for he had been running. "Beg pardon, sir," he +called as he came within earshot, "but would you be a naval officer?" + +"I am," replied Torps. "Why?" + +The man saluted. "There's a telephone message just come through, sir, +'Prepare to mobilise. All officers and men are recalled from leave.'" + +Torps stared at him. "Where did it come from--the message?" + +"From the port, sir. I was to warn anyone I saw out this way . . ." + +"Right; thank you. I'm going back now." He turned towards Margaret. +"Did you hear that?" There was a queer note of relief in his voice. + +"Yes," she replied quietly. "The Drum." + + + + +III + +A CAPTAIN'S FORENOON + +The Captain came out of his sleeping-cabin as the last chord of the +National Anthem died away on the quarter-deck overhead with the roll of +kettledrums. + +"Carry on!" sang the bugle; and the ship's company, their animation +suspended while the colours crept up the jackstaff, proceeded to +"breakfast and clean." The signalman whose duty it was to hoist the +Ensign at 8 a.m. turned up the halliards to his satisfaction, and +departed forward in the wake of the band. + +The Captain had "cleaned" already, and his breakfast was on the table +in his fore-cabin. He sat down, glanced at the pile of letters beside +his plate, propped the morning paper against the teapot, and commenced +his meal. He ate with the deliberate slowness of a man accustomed to +having meals in solitude, who has schooled himself not to abuse his +digestion. + +As he ate his quick eye travelled over the headlines of the paper, +occasionally concentrating on a paragraph here and there. Ten minutes +sufficed to give him a complete grasp of the day's affairs. The naval +appointments he read carefully. His memory for names and individuals +was unfailing; he never forgot anyone who had served under his command, +and followed the careers of most with interest. His daily private +correspondence, which was large, testified to the fact that not many +forgot him. + +Breakfast over, he laid aside the paper, lit a cigarette, and turned +over the little pile of letters, identifying the writers with a glance +at the handwriting on each envelope. Only one was unknown to him: that +he placed last, and carried them into the after-cabin to read, leaning +his shoulder against the mantel of the tiled and brass-bound fireplace. + +The first letter he opened was from his wife, and, in consequence, its +contents were nobody's affair but his own. He read it twice, and +smiled as he returned it to the envelope. + +The next, written on thick notepaper stamped with the Admiralty crest, +he also read twice, and mused awhile. Apparently this also was +nobody's concern but his, for, still deep in thought, he tore it up and +put the pieces in the fire before taking up the third. This was an +appeal for assistance from a former watch-keeper who aspired to the +Flying Corps. The next was also a request for assistance from a young +officer, who, having recently taken a wife to his bosom, apparently +considered the achievement a qualification for the command of one of +H.M. torpedo-boat destroyers. + +The Captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I sent him a silver +photograph frame. . . . He'll want me to be godfather next." He +occasionally spoke aloud when alone. + +An appeal for funds for a memorial to someone or another followed. +Then two advertisements from wine merchants and a statement of his +account with his outfitter were consigned in turns into the fire. The +last envelope, in the unknown hand, he scrutinised for a moment before +opening. The postmark was local, the caligraphy illiterate. He opened +the letter and read it with an inscrutable face. Then, with a quick +movement as of disgust, he crumpled it up and threw it into the flames. +It was anonymous, and was a threat, couched in lurid and ensanguined +terms, to murder him. + +Judges, and post-captains of the Royal Navy, perhaps as a reminder of +their great responsibilities, occasionally receive communications of +this nature. Their life insurance policies, however, appear to remain +much the same as those of other people. + + * * * * * + +The after-cabin, where the Captain perused his correspondence, was an +airy, chintz-upholstered apartment leading aft through two heavy steel +doors on to the stern-walk. The doors were open on that particular +morning, and the high, thin cries of seagulls quarrelling under the +stern drifted through almost unceasingly. + +Forward, the white-enamelled bulkhead was pierced by two entrances. +One led from a diminutive sleeping-cabin and bathroom, the other from +the fore-cabin, which the Captain had just quitted, and which in turn +communicated with a lobby where a marine sentry paced day and night. + +The after-cabin was lit by a skylight overhead and scuttles in the +ship's side. The sunlight, streaming in through the starboard ones, +winked on the butterfly clamps of burnished brass and small rods from +which the little chintz curtains hung. A roll-topped desk occupied a +corner near the fireplace, and round the bulkheads, affixed to white +enamelled battens, hung water-colour paintings of his ships. A sloop +of war under full sail; a brig, close-hauled, beating out of Plymouth +Sound; a tiny gunboat at anchor in a backwater of the Upper Yangtse. +There were spick-and-span cruisers; a quaint, top-heavy looking +battleship that in her day had been considered the last word in naval +construction, and whose name to-day provokes reminiscences from the +older generation and from the younger half-dubious smiles; then, near +the door, came modern men-of-war of familiar aspect. They represented +the milestones of a long career. + +A chart lay folded on a table in the centre of the cabin, with a pair +of dividers and a parallel ruler lying on it. Another table stood in a +corner near the door--a small, glass-topped table such as collectors of +curios gather their treasures in. The contents of this table, however, +were not curios in the strict sense of the word. A number of them were +very commonplace objects, but each one held its particular associations. + +You will find just such a collection of insignificant mysteries in a +boy's pocket or a jackdaw's nest. Bits of string, a marble polished by +friction, a piece of coloured glass, an old nail--in themselves +rubbish, but doubtless linking the possessor to some amiable memory, +and cherished for no better reason. + +Some men retain this instinct of boyhood. But whereas the boy is +secretive and reticent about the particular associations his pocket +holds, the man will talk about his hoard. + +In the glass-topped table in that corner of the after-cabin were ties +with all the seven seas and the shores they wash. Mementoes of folly +or friendship, sport or achievement; fragments of the mosaic that is +life. + +A bit of brick from the Great Wall of China recalled a bag of geese in +the clear cold dusk of Northern Asia. Memories, too, of the whaler's +beat back to the fleet in the teeth of a rising gale that swept in from +the Pacific, when the bravest unlaced his boots and they baled with the +empty guncase. + +There was a piece of the sacred pavement of Mecca, brought back in the +days when few Europeans had brought anything back from there--even +their lives. A gold medal in a morocco-leather case, won by an essay +that had called for months of unrelaxed study. A copper bangle from +the wrist of a Korean dancing-girl (it was somebody else's story, +though). A wooden ju-ju from Benin, dark-stained and repulsive; a tiny +clay godling that had guarded the mummied heart of an Egyptian queen. +A flint arrow-head picked up on Dartmoor during a long summer tramp +after the speckled trout. A jewelled cigarette-case, gift of an +empress who could give no more than that, however much she may have +wanted to. + +Rubbish, all rubbish. Yet occasionally, when two or three +post-captains, contemporaries and fleet-mates, gathered here to smoke +after-dinner cigars, the host would unlock the glass-topped table, +select some object from his miscellany, and hold it up with a "D'you +remember----?" And one or other of his guests--sometimes all of +them--would laugh and nod and blow great clouds of smoke and slide into +eager reminiscence. Yesterday is the playground of all men's hearts, +but more especially those of sailor men. These odds and ends were only +keys that unlocked the gate. + +A few photographs stood on the shelf above the hearth. Some books +occupied a revolving bookcase within reach of anyone sitting at the +desk; not very interesting books: old Navy Lists, a "King's +Regulations," a "Manual of Court Martial Procedure," one or two volumes +on International Law, and a treatise on so-called 'modern' +seamanship--which, by the way, is a misnomer, seamanship, like love, +being of all time. + +The revolving bookcase supported a bowl of flowers. The Captain's +Coxswain had personally arranged them that morning; had, in fact, had a +slight difference of opinion with the Captain's valet (conducted _sotto +voce_) over the method of their arrangement. The Coxswain won on the +claim of being a married man and understanding mysteries beyond the ken +of bachelors. The result in either case would have brought tears to +the eyes of any woman. + + * * * * * + +The Captain finished his cigarette and opened the roll-topped desk, +slipped his letters into a pigeon-hole, and closed the desk again. As +he did so the Commander entered the cabin, tucking his cap under his +arm. + +"Nine o'clock, sir; all ready for divisions. The Chaplain is +sick--will you read prayers?" + +"Sick, is he? What's the matter?" + +"He twisted his knee yesterday playing football. The Fleet Surgeon has +made him lie up." + +The Captain nodded. "All right; I'll read them." As the Commander +turned to go he spoke again: "By the way, that fellow I gave ninety +days to yesterday--was there a woman in the case, d'you happen to know? +There was nothing in the evidence, of course, but I wondered----" + +The Commander paused while the busy brain searched among its dockets. +The man whose business it is as Executive Officer to control the +affairs of close on a thousand of his fellow men must of necessity +sometimes learn curiously intimate details of their lives. + +"Yes; the Master-at-Arms mentioned to me that a woman was at the bottom +of it. She's a wrong 'un, I understand." + +"Thank you." + +The Commander went out, and a moment later the bugle overhead blazed +forth "Divisions." + +"I thought it was a woman's writing," added the Captain musingly. + +"Divisions correct, sir!" The Commander saluted and made his report. + +The Captain returned the salute briskly. "Sound the 'Close.'" + +The bugle sounded again, the bell began to toll for prayers, and the +band on the after shelter-deck struck up a lively march as the men came +aft. + +Anyone interested in the study called physiognomy might with advantage +have taken his stand at this moment on the after part of the +quarter-deck, where the shadow of the White Ensign curved and flickered +across the planking. Perhaps the Captain, who stood there, was himself +a student of the art. At any rate, as the men marched aft through the +screen doors his level eyes passed from face to face, reflective, +observant, intensely alert. + +The last division reached its allotted position on the quarter-deck, +turned inboard, and stood easy. The band stopped abruptly. The bell +ceased tolling. In the brief ensuing silence the Commander's voice was +clearly audible as he made his report. + +"Everybody aft, sir." + +The Captain slipped a small prayer-book out of a side pocket. The +Commander gave a curt order, and five hundred heads bared to the +sunlight. + +"Stand easy!" + +There is much beauty in the sonorous periods of the English Rubric. +Read in the strong, clear voice of a man who for thirty years had known +calm and tempest, sunset and dawn at sea, the familiar words--of appeal +and praise alike--assumed somehow an unwonted significance; and when he +closed the book, slipped it back into his pocket, and looked up, the +face he raised was the face of one who, whatever else his creed had +taught him, found in all success the answer to some prayer, in every +disaster a call to courage and high endeavour. + + * * * * * + +Down in the after-cabin, five minutes later, the Fleet Surgeon handed +the sick-list to the Captain, who read it with care. For the first +time that day his brow clouded. The two men looked at one another. + +"It is heavy," said the Fleet Surgeon; "but----" He made an +imperceptible upward movement of the shoulders, for his mother had been +French. + +For some moments after he had gone the Captain stood staring out +through the after doorway. A barge, heavily freighted, was passing +slowly down-stream. His eyes followed the brown sail absently as long +as it was within his field of vision. The anger had gone from his brow +and left a shadow of sadness. + +"'_Si j'etais Dieu_,'" he murmured, following some train of thought and +musing aloud as was his habit. Then, still in a brown study, he opened +the roll-topped desk and pressed a bell. + +"Tell Mr. Gerrard I'll sign papers," he said to the marine sentry who +appeared in the doorway. + +"Double-O" Gerrard (so called because he wore glasses with circular +lenses and his name made you think of telephones) answered the summons, +carrying a sheaf of papers. He was the Captain's Clerk: that is to +say, the junior accountant officer, detailed by the Captain to conduct +his official correspondence and perform secretarial work generally. +The position is not one commonly sought after, but Double-O Gerrard +appeared to enjoy his duties, and as a badge of office carried a +perpetual inkstain on the forefinger-tip of his right hand. + +The Captain sat down at his desk with a little sigh. If the truth be +known, he had small relish for this business of "papers." He picked up +his pen and examined the nib. + +"Do you ever use your pen to clean a pipe out?" he asked his Clerk. + +"Oh no, sir." + +"I suppose it depends on the nib one uses whether it suffers much." +With a piece of blotting paper the Captain removed fragments of tobacco +ash and nicotine from the nib, and dipped it in the ink. "It doesn't +seem to hurt mine. Now then, what have we got here?" + +A quarter of an hour later he pushed aside the last of the pile of +documents and lit a cigarette with the air of a man who had earned a +smoke. + +"Any defaulters?" + +"No, sir, none for you to-day." + +"Humph! Tell the Commander I'll buy him a pair of white kid gloves +when I go ashore. Request-men?" + +His Clerk placed a book upon the desk open at a list of names. The +Captain ran down them with a pencil. + +"Badges, all entitled? . . . Stop allotment--who does he allot to? +Mother? . . . Restoration to first class for leave. . . . To be rated +Leading Seaman--Jones. Jones? Oh, yes, I know: youngster in the +quarter-deck division with a broken nose. The Commander spoke to me +about him." The pencil slowly descended to the bottom of the page, +ticking off each man's request as it was gone into and explained. He +stopped at the last one. "'To see Captain about private affairs.' +What's his trouble?" + +"I don't know, sir. He put in his request to see you through the +Master-at-Arms. He didn't say what it was about." + +The Captain closed the book. "All seamen, eh? No Marine request-men?" + +"No, sir." + +"Right. I'll see 'em at eleven." The Clerk gathered the papers +together and departed. As he went out there was a tap at the door. +The Captain frowned. The tap was repeated. + +"Don't knock," he called out. "If you've got anything to report, come +in and report it." + +The Chief Yeoman of Signals entered with an embarrassed air. He was +new to the ship, and, as everyone knows, all captains have their little +peculiarities. Here he was up against one right away. He'd never had +much luck. + +"I don't want anyone to knock when they come into my cabin on duty. +I'm not a young woman in her boudoir." + +"Aye, aye, sir," said the Chief Yeoman. "Signal log, sir." + + * * * * * + +"Don't forget now," counselled the Master-at-Arms to the request-men +fallen in on the starboard side of the quarter-deck. "When your names +is called out, step smartly up to the table, an' keep your caps on. +You salutes when you steps up to the table an' when you leaves it." + +The request-men, who had heard all this a good many times before, +sucked their teeth in acquiescence. + +The Captain was walking up and down the other side of the deck talking +to the Commander. They turned together and came towards the table. +The Captain's Clerk opened the request-book and laid it before the +Captain. + +"'Erbert Reynolds," intoned the Master-at-Arms in a stentorian voice. +"Able seaman. Requests award of first Good Conduct Badge." + +The Captain put his finger on the first name at the top of the page, +glanced keenly at the applicant, and nodded. "Granted." + +"Granted," echoed the Chief of Police, and Able Seaman Reynolds +departed with authority to wear on his left arm the triangular red +badge that vouched to his exemplary behaviour for the last three years. + +Five others followed in quick succession with similar requests, and +trotted forward again at a dignified and amiable gait through the +screen door. + +"To stop allotment." The Captain raised his head. + +"Who do you allot to?" + +"Me mother, sir." + +"Doesn't she want it?" + +The request-man was a young stoker, little more than a boy, and his +eyes were troubled. + +"She don't deserve it," he replied; "she drinks, sir. I got letters +from fr'en's----" He thrust his hand inside the breast of his jumper +and produced his sad evidence--a letter from a clergyman, one or two +from lay-workers in some north-country slum, and one from his mother +herself, an incoherent, abusive scrawl, with liquor stains still upon +the creased paper. + +"I send 'er my 'arf-pay reg'lar ever since I were in the Navy, sir. +But she ain't goin' ter 'ave no more." He made the statement without +heat or sorrow. + +"Stopped," said the Captain, with a nod. + +"Allotment stopped," repeated the Master-at-Arms, and the allotter +passed forward out of sight to whatever destiny awaited him. + +"To be rated Leading Seaman, sir." + +A tall, young Able Seaman stepped forward and fixed eyes of a clear +blue on the Captain's face. + +The Captain met his gaze, and for a moment threw all the weight of +thirty years' experience of men into the scales of judgment. "There is +a vacancy for a Leading Seaman's rate in the ship," he said. "The +Commander has recommended you for it. You're young. Keep it." + +"Rated Leading Seaman. 'Bout turn." + +The newly created Leading Seaman, whose nose was a reminder of the +vagaries of the main sheet block of a cutter when going about, flushed +with pleasure and turned smartly on his heel. The vacant rate was due +to a lapse from rectitude on the part of one Biggers, leading hand of +the quarter-deck, who had returned from leave with a small flat flask +tucked inside his cholera belt. The flask contained whisky, and had +been thrust there by a friend ashore in an access of maudlin +good-fellowship on parting. The night had been a convivial one, and +Leading Seaman Biggers overlooked the gift until, coming on board, the +keen-eyed officer of the watch drew his attention to it. He paid for +the misplaced generosity of his well-wisher with his "Killick."[1] + +He happened, moreover, to be employed in coiling down a rope--in the +capacity he had reverted to--while his supplanter received the rating; +but he eyed the ceremony stoically and without resentment. He had +failed, and, of his less frail brethren, another was raised up in his +stead. It was the immutable law. + +"To be restored to the first class for leave." + +A stout Able Seaman stepped forward, and, from force of a habit +engendered by long familiarity with the etiquette of the defaulters' +table, removed his cap. + +"_Put_ yer cap on," added the Master-at-Arms in a fierce undertone. + +The suppliant deftly replaced his cap. As he did so a packet of +cigarettes, a skein of darning worsted and a picture postcard +(depicting a stout lady in a pink costume surf bathing) fell out on to +the deck in the manner of an unexpected conjuring trick. An attendant +ship's corporal retrieved them, while the conjurer affected an air of +complete detachment. + +The Captain glanced at the conduct book. "Clean sheet? +Right--restored to the first class. And see if you can't stop in it +this time." + +The stout one made guttural noises in his throat intended to convey +assurances of future piety, and departed with an expression that +suggested a halo had not only descended upon his head, but had been +crammed inextricably over his ears. + +The last request-man--the man with "private affairs"--was a small +leading stoker with a face seamed by innumerable tiny wrinkles. His +skin resembled a piece of parchment that somebody had crumpled in a fit +of petulance and made a half-hearted attempt to smooth out again; even +his ears were crumpled. His brown eyes, big and sad, were like the +eyes of a suffering monkey. + +The Commander interposed with an explanation: "This man wishes to see +you about a private matter, sir." + +The Captain made a little gesture with his hand, and the small group of +officers and ship's police near the table stepped back a few paces out +of earshot. The Commander, perhaps the busiest man on board, snatched +the moment's respite to confer with the Carpenter, who had been +hovering round waiting for his opportunity. The Master-at-Arms was +standing by the bollards alternately sucking a stump of pencil and +making cryptic notations in his request-book. The two ship's corporals +had removed themselves with great delicacy of feeling to the screen +door, where in an undertone they settled an argument as to whose turn +it was to make out the leave tickets. The Captain's Clerk became +interested in the progress of work in an ammunition lighter alongside. + +The Captain, with knitted brows, was reading a letter that had been +handed to him across the table. He folded it up when read, and handed +it back to the recipient; then, holding his chin in his fist and +supporting the elbow with the other hand, he listened to the tale the +small man with the crumpled ears had to unfold. It was an old +tale--old when Helen first met the eyes of Paris. But there was no +veil of romance to soften the outline of its crude tragedy. It was +just sordid and pitiful. + +For five minutes, perhaps, the two men faced each other. At the end of +that time the Captain was leaning forward resting both hands on the +table, talking in grave, kindly tones. He talked, not as Captains +commonly talk to Leading Stokers, but as one man might talk to another +who turned to him for advice in the bitter hour of need, drawing on the +deep well of his experience, education, and kindly judgment. + +"Troubles shared are troubles halved." The Captain had said so, and +the tot of rum served out at one-bell to the little man with the +crumpled ears went some way to complete the conviction. + + * * * * * + +Jeremiah Casey, Petty Officer and Captain's Coxswain, hauled himself +nimbly up the Jacob's ladder to the quarter-boom and came inboard. The +Captain was walking up and down, deep in thought, with his hands linked +behind his back. Casey pattered up and saluted. + +"I've bent on that noo mainsail, sir. . . . There's a nice li'l +sailin' breeze, sir." Casey, hinting at a spin in the galley, somehow +reminded one of a spaniel when he sees the gun-case opened. Had he +been blessed with a tail, he would most certainly have wagged it. + +The Captain walked slowly aft and looked down into the galley lying at +the quarter-boom. Few men could have resisted the appeal of that long +slim boat with the water lapping invitingly against her clinker-built +sides. The brasswork in her gleamed in the sun like jewels set in +ivory, for the woodwork was as near the whiteness of ivory as holystone +and sharkskin could make it. She had little white mats with blue +borders on the thwarts and in the sternsheets, and her yoke, of curious +Chinese design, had a history as mysterious and legendary as the +diamonds of Marie Antoinette. + +"Get her alongside," said the Captain. "I want to try that mainsail." + +Five minutes later the galley was spinning across the sparkling waters +of the harbour. + +Once the Captain spoke, and the bowman moved his weight six inches +forward. Then she sailed to his light touch on the helm as a violin +gives out sound under the bow of a master. + +Casey, sitting motionless on the bottom boards with the mainsheet in +his hands, gazed rapturously at the new mainsail, and thence into the +stolid countenance of the second stroke. + +"Ain't she a _witch_?" he whispered. + +For half an hour the galley skimmed to and fro among the anchored +fleet, now running free like a white-winged gull, anon close-hauled, +the razor bows cleaving a path through the dancing water in a little +sickle of creaming foam. + +The Captain brought her alongside the gangway with faultless judgment +and stood up. Like Saul, he had taken the cares of high command to a +witch, and lo! his brow was clear and his eyes twinkled. + +"Yes," he said in even tones as he stepped out of the boat, "that +mainsail sets all right," and ran briskly up the ladder two steps at a +time. + +Casey thumbed the lacing on the yard. "Perfection is finality, and +finality is death." + +"I don't know but what I wouldn't shift the strop '_arf_ an inch +aft--mebbe a quarter . . ." + +Inboard the ship's bell struck eight times, and the boatswain's mate +began shrilly piping the hands to dinner. + + + +[1] Anchor. The distinctive badge of a leading rating. + + + + +IV + +THE SEVEN-BELL BOAT + +The last answering pendant from the Fleet shot up above the bridge +rails, and the impatient semaphore on the Flagship's bridge commenced +waving its arms. + +The Yeoman of the Watch in the second ship of the line steadied his +glass against an angle of the chart house. "'Ere y'are! Write down, +one 'and." A Signal-boy stepped to his elbow with a pad and pencil in +readiness. + +"Flag--general: Leave may be granted to officers from 8.30 to 7 p.m. +Officers are not to leave the vicinity of the town, and are to be +prepared for immediate recall." He lowered the glass sharply. +"Finish. Down Answer!" + +Obedient to the order, a Signal-man brought the long tail of bunting +down hand over hand. He hitched the slack of the halliard to the +bridge rail and puckered his eyes, staring across the waters of the +harbour to where the roofs of houses showed among the trees. "'Ow I +pities orficers!" he observed under his breath, and walked to the end +of the bridge. + +The advertisement of a cinema theatre occupied a hoarding near the +landing place; away to the left the sloping roof of what was +unmistakably a brewery bore in huge block letters the exhortation: + + DRINK PALE ALE + +"Not 'arf," murmured the cynic at the end of the battleship's bridge. +He mused darkly and added, "I don't think." + +The Yeoman of the Watch took the pad from the boy's hand, scribbled a +notation on it, and handed it back: "Commander an' Officer of the +Watch, Wardroom, Gunroom, an' Warrant Officers' Mess. Smart!" + +The boy flung himself down the ladder, sped aft along the fore-and-aft +bridge, turned at the shelter-deck, descended another ladder, and +brought up in the battery. Here the Commander came in view, conferring +mysteriously with the Boatswain over a length of six-inch wire hawser +that lay along the upper deck. The Boatswain, with gloom in his +countenance, was indicating a section where the strands were flattened +and the hemp "heart" protruded in a manner indicating that all was not +well with the six-inch wire hawser. In fact, it rather resembled a +snake that had been run over. The Commander was rubbing his chin +thoughtfully. + +The Signal-boy hovered on the outskirts of the conference. Bitter +experience in the past had taught him not to obtrude when deep called +thus to deep. + +"We must cut it where it's nipped, and put a splice in it, Mr. +Cassidy," the Commander was saying, and turned his head. + +The boy seized the opportunity to thrust the pad within range of the +Commander's vision, one eye cocked on his face to note the effect of +this momentous communication. He half expected that the Commander +would throw his cap in the air and shout "Hurrah!" + +The Commander read it unmoved. "Show it to the Officer of the Watch," +he said, and turned again to the wire hawser. Truly a man of iron, +reflected the Signal-boy as he saluted and ran aft in search of the +Officer of the Watch. + +The Officer of the Watch received the intelligence with almost equal +unconcern, but when the boy had departed out of earshot he said +something in an undertone and added: "Just my blooming luck." Then, +raising his voice, he shouted: "Quartermaster! Picket-boat alongside +at three-thirty for officers." + +A head emerged from the hood of the after turret. The Gunnery +Lieutenant, wearing over-alls, a streak of dirt running diagonally down +one cheek, emerged and drew off a greasy glove to wipe his face. + +"Did I hear you say anything about a seven-bell boat?" + +The Officer of the Watch nodded. "There's leave from three-thirty to +seven p.m. It's three o'clock now, so I advise you to smack it about +and clean if you're going ashore." + +The Gunnery Lieutenant slid gracefully down the sloping shield of the +turret. Fortunately, the consideration of paint-work vanished with the +red dawn of August 5th, 1914. + +"My word!" he said, staring towards the distant town. "My missus----" +and vanished down the hatchway. + +In the meanwhile the Signal-boy had descended to the wardroom, where he +swiftly pinned the signal on to the notice board. The occupants of the +arm-chairs and settee followed his movements with drowsy interest. + +The Young Doctor rose and walked to the notice board. + +"Snooks!" he ejaculated. "Leave!" And, with a glance at the clock, +hurried out of the mess. + +The remainder of his messmates sat up with excitement. + +"What time?" + +"When till?" + +"What about a boat?" + +The head of the Officer of the Watch appeared through the open skylight +overhead. "Wake up, you Weary Willies. There's a boat to the beach at +seven-bells." + +"Come along, chaps," snorted the Major of Marines. "_Allons nous +shifter_--let us shift." And he, too, made tracks for his cabin, +followed by everybody who could be spared by "the exigencies of the +service" to experience for three blessed hours the joys of the land. + +The shrill voices of the Midshipmen at their toilet in the after flat +proclaimed that the precious moments were flying. Three were +simultaneously performing their ablutions in one basin, the supply of +water to the bathroom having failed with a suddenness that could only +be attributed to the malignant agency of the Captain of the Hold. + +Another burrowed feverishly in the depths of his sea-chest, presenting +to the flat much the same appearance as a terrier does when busy at a +rabbit-hole. He emerged flushed but triumphant with a limp garment in +his grasp. "I knew I had a clean shirt," he confided to his neighbour. +"I told my servant so a fortnight ago. He swore that every one I +possessed had been left behind in the wash at Malta." + +His neighbour made no reply, being in the throes of buttoning a collar +which fitted him admirably at Osborne College, but which somehow had +lately exhibited an obstinate determination to meet no more round his +neck. However, physical strength achieved the miracle, and he breathed +deeply. "I shouldn't sweat to shift your shirt," he consoled. "It +looks all right. Turn the cuffs up." + +"I've turned them up three times already," replied the excavator, +donning his find. "There are limits." + +Another Midshipman came across the crowded flat and calmly rummaged in +the open till of the speaker's sea-chest. "Where's your hair juice? +All right, I've got it." He anointed himself generously with a +mysterious green fluid out of a bottle. "My people are staying at a +pub ashore here. Will you come and have tea, Jaggers? Kedgeree's +coming, too." + +The owner of the green unguent, who was feverishly dusting his boots +with a pyjama jacket, signified his pleasure in accepting the +invitation. + +The sentry on the aft-deck stepped to the head of the ladder with a +bellows, on the mouth of which a small fog-horn was fitted, and gave a +loud blast. It was the customary warning that the officers' boat would +be alongside in five minutes. + +The Assistant Clerk ran distractedly for the ladder. + +"There's one 'G'! Have I got time to borrow five bob from the messman +before the boat shoves off?" + +"You might borrow five bob for me while you're about it," shouted a +belated Engineroom Watchkeeper, struggling into his clothes. + +"And me, too," called another. "Buck up, for the Lord's sake, and +we'll have poached eggs for tea." + +"And cherry jam," supplemented another visionary voluptuously, "and +radishes." + +Here a figure, who had been sitting on the lid of his chest swinging +his legs, tilted his cap on to the back of his head with a snort that +suggested outlawry and defiance to the world at large. + +"Hallo!" exclaimed a neighbour, wielding a clothes-brush with energy. +"What's up? Aren't you coming ashore? It isn't your First Dog, is it?" + +The outlaw shook his head. "No; my leave's jambed. You know that +beastly six-inch wire hawser? We were bringing it to the after capstan +yesterday, and the Commander----" + +The aft-deck sentry gave two blasts on his fog-horn. Chest lids +banged, keys rattled. + +"Jolly rough luck!" commiserated his friend, and joined the stampede +for the quarterdeck. + +In thirty seconds the flat was deserted save for the disconsolate +figure swinging his legs. Presently he climbed down from his chest and +wended his way by devious and stealthy routes to the after +conning-tower, where he smoked a surreptitious cigarette in defiance of +the King's Regulations and Admiralty Instructions (his age being +sixteen) and felt better. + +In the meanwhile the picket-boat was driving her way shoreward with the +emancipated members of Wardroom and Gunroom clustered on top of the +cabin and in the stern sheets. + +"Bunje," said the First Lieutenant, "come to the club and have tea and +play 'pills' afterwards?" + +The Indiarubber Man shook his head. "No, thanks; I'm afraid I--I've +got something else to do." + +The Paymaster contemplated him thoughtfully. "Bunje, my lad, the +darkest suspicions fill my breast. Wherefore these carefully creased +trousers, this liberal display of fine linen and flashing cuff-links +withal? Our Sunday monkey-jacket, too. Can it be----? No." He +appealed to the occupants of the stern sheets: "Don't tell me the lad +is going poodle-faking!"[1] + +"His hands are warm and moist," confirmed one of the Watchkeepers. "He +wipes them furtively on the slack of his trousers in frightened +anticipation." + +The Indiarubber Man reddened. "You silly asses!" + +The Junior Watchkeeper squirmed with delight. "He is--he _is_! He's +going poodle-faking. And in war time, too! You dog, Bunje!" + +"Can't a fellow know people ashore without a lot of untutored clowns +trying to be funny about it?" demanded the victim. + +"It's the spring," said the Young Doctor. "Bunje's young fancy is +lightly turning--yes, it is." The Surgeon sniffed the air judicially. +"The bay rum upon your hair proclaims it. Ah, me! The heyday of +youth!" He sighed. "'Time was when love and I were well acquainted.'" + +"That's a fact," retorted the Indiarubber Man bitterly. "But you +needn't brag about it. I haven't been shipmates with you for four +years for nothing. There's nothing you can tell me about your hideous +past that I don't know already." + +The picket-boat slid alongside the landing place and went astern. + +The Engineer Commander made his way towards the little cabin. As the +senior officer of the party, his was the privilege of embarking last +and disembarking first. "Don't wait for me," he said. "Unstow! I've +got to get my golf-clubs." + +The Indiarubber Man took him at his word. "Right. I'll carry on, if I +may." He leaped ashore, and set off with long strides in the direction +of the town. + +The First Lieutenant gazed after him. There was a general feeling that +the Indiarubber Man had suddenly assumed an unfamiliar and inexplicable +role. "Now, what the devil is he up to, I wonder?" + +The others, mystified, shook their heads. + + + +2 + +The mothers of Midshipmen have a means of scenting the whereabouts of a +fleet that mere censorship of letters cannot balk. There were at least +half a dozen mothers in the _foyer_ of the big, garish hotel on the +sea-front. Some were tete-a-tete with their sons in snug, upholstered +corners, learning aspects of naval warfare that no historian will ever +record. Others presided over heavily laden tea-tables at which their +sons and their sons' more intimate friends were dealing with eggs and +buttered toast, marmalade, watercress, plum-cake, and toasted scones in +a manner which convinced their half-alarmed relatives that famine must +have stalked the British Navy ever since the War started. + +"We shall never have time," said one mother, "to hear all you have to +tell, dear." + +"There's really nothing very much to tell you about, mother. Can I +order some more jam? And Jaggers could scoff some more eggs, couldn't +you, Jag? Waiter, two more poached eggs and some more strawberry jam. +You see, dear, we haven't done anything exciting yet. That's all been +the luck of the battle-cruisers and destroyers. They've had a topping +rag--three of our term have been wounded already. But we aren't +allowed to gas about what we're going to do--why, that waiter might be +a German spy, for all we know." + +"Didn't know the Admiral confided his plans for the future to +Midshipmen," commented an amused father, who had run down from the War +Office for the day. + +"He doesn't _confide_ them," admitted another, "but my chest is in the +flat outside his steward's cabin, and, of course, _he_ hears an awful +lot." + +"But, Georgie, tell us about your life. Do you get enough sleep?" +queried his mother. + +"Rather," replied her son, whose horizon three months before had been +bounded by the playing fields of Dartmouth College, where the +dormitories are maintained at an even temperature by costly and +hygienic methods. "We're in four watches, you know--we get one night +in in four. At sea we sleep at our guns. I've got one of the +six-inch, and we get up quite a good fug in our casemate at night. +Jaggers dosses in the after-control. It's a bit breezy up there, isn't +it, Old Bird?" + +The Old Bird signified that the rigours of Arctic exploration were as +nothing to what he had undergone. + +"And your swimming-jacket--the one Aunt Jessie sent you? The outfitter +said it was quite comfortable to wear. I hope you always do wear it at +sea, in case--in case you should ever need it." + +Her son chuckled. "The pneumatic one? Well, we liked it awfully when +it came, and we blew it up; and then we thought we'd have a bit of +scrum practice one night after dinner, and we rolled it up for a ball, +and--and the half wasn't nippy enough in getting it away to the +three-quarters, and somehow or another it got punctured. But I wear it +all right, mother. It's jolly warm at nights." + +"And do you like your officers--is the Captain kind to you all?" + +The boy stirred his tea thoughtfully. + +"They're a topping lot. One has got the Humane Society's gold medal +for jumping on top of a shark at Perim when it was just going to collar +a fellow bathing--you'd never think it to look at him. There's another +we call the Indiarubber Man, who takes us at physical drill every +morning. He's frightfully strong, and they say he licked the Japanese +ju-jitsu man they had at the School of Physical Training. And, of +course, there's old Beggs. You know, he was captain of +England--Rugger--some years ago. He's broken his nose three +times. . . ." + +"We all skylark together in the dog-watches," added another. "We put a +seining-net round the quarter-deck, and play cricket or deck hockey +every evening after tea to keep fit." + +"And they come into the gun-room when we have a sing-song on guest +nights, and kick up a frightful shine. Oh, they're an awful fine lot." + +"The Captain is a topper, too. He has us to breakfast in turns." + +A third took up the epic. If you have ever heard schoolboys vie with +each other to laud and honour the glory of their own particular House +among strangers in a strange land, you can imagine much that cannot be +conveyed with the pen. There were similar tea parties in various +corners of the hotel and in lodgings along the sea-front, but the +conversation at all of them ran on much the same lines, and this may be +considered a fair sample of the majority. + +"He gives a lecture every few days showing what is going on at the +front. His brother's a General, and, of course, he gets any amount of +tips from him. The brother of one of our Snotties--Karrard--was killed +at Mons, and the Captain sent for Karrard (who's rather a kid and felt +it awfully) and showed him a letter from the General about Karrard's +brother--he had seen him killed--which bucked Karrard up tremendously. +In fact, he rather puts on side now, because he's the only one in the +gun-room who has lost a brother." + +"And you don't wish you were back at Dartmouth again?" + +"Dartmouth!" The speaker's voice was almost scornful. "Why, mother. +Kedgeree here would have got his First Eleven cap this term if we'd +stayed, and even he----" + +A small midshipman with remarkable steel-grey eyes, who had not +hitherto spoken much, shook his head emphatically and flushed at +hearing his nickname pronounced in open conversation ashore. "We were +treated like kids there," he explained. "But now----" He jerked his +head towards the north with that unfailing sense of the cardinal points +of the compass which a seaman acquires in earliest youth, or not at +all. Somewhere in that direction the German fleet was presumed to be +skulking. "It's different," he ended a little lamely. + +Suddenly the son leaned forward and pressed his mother's knee under the +table. A tall, sinewy Engineer Commander was walking across the +_foyer_ on his way to the billiard room. + +"There, mother, that's old Beggs. He had our term at Osborne. Did you +see his nose? . . . Captain of England!" . . . The speaker broke off +and lifted his head, listening. + +Through the doorway opening on to the sea-front there drifted a faint +sound, the silvery note of a distant bugle. + +"Hush!" said one of the others, raising a warning hand. "Listen!" + + + +3 + +At the window of one of the detached houses in the residential part of +the town a small Naval Cadet stood with his nose flattened against the +window-pane. + +"I say, Betty," he ejaculated presently, "they're giving leave to the +Fleet. I can see crowds of officers coming ashore." + +His sister continued to knit industriously. "Well, I don't suppose any +of them are coming here. You needn't get so excited." + +Her brother watched the uniformed figures filing along the distant road +from the landing place. "I hope this war goes on for another couple of +years," he sighed. + +"Joe! You mustn't say such dreadful things. You don't know what +you're talking about." + +"That's all jolly fine, but you haven't got to do another year at +Osborne---- I say, Betty, one of them _is_ coming here! How jolly +exciting! He's coming up the avenue now. He's got red hair. . . . I +believe--yes, it's--what was the name of that Lieutenant at Jack's +wedding, d'you remember? The funny man. He made you giggle all the +time." + +For a moment the knitting appeared to demand his sister's undivided +attention; she bent her head over it. "That was a long time +ago--before I put my hair up. I'm sure I didn't giggle either. Oh, +yes, I think I remember who you mean. Is he coming here? I +wonder--come away from the window, Joe!" + +The front door bell rang in a distant part of the house; she dropped +her knitting on a small side table and walked quietly out of the room. +"I'll tell mother," she said as she went out. + +"You needn't trouble to do that," said Joe. "She's out--I thought you +knew." But the door had closed. + +A moment later the Indiarubber Man was ushered in. The two +representatives of His Majesty's Navy shook hands. "I recognised you +from your photograph," said the host. "D'you remember the wedding +group? You were a groomsman when Jack and Milly were married, weren't +you?" + +"I was," replied the Indiarubber Man. "I performed a number of menial +offices that day. But were you there? I don't seem to remember you." + +Joe shook his head. "No, I had mumps. Wasn't it rot? It must have +been an awful good rag. But I remember about you because Betty told me +afterwards--she's my sister, you know. She said you were--oh, here she +is." + +Betty entered. She cast one swift glance at her brother that might +have been intended to convey interrogation or admonition, or both, and +then greeted the Indiarubber Man with friendly composure. "How nice of +you to come and see us! Mother is out, I'm afraid, but she will +probably be in presently. Do sit down. Yes, of course I remember +you--Joe, ring the bell, and we'll have tea." + +"We were 'opposite numbers' at your brother's wedding," said the +Indiarubber Man, taking a seat, and nervously hitching up the legs of +his trousers to an unnecessary extent. + +"Yes, I remember restraining you with difficulty from going into the +garden to eat worms! Nobody----" she broke off abruptly. "What a long +time ago that seems!" She laughed quietly and considered him with +merriment in her pretty eyes. The Indiarubber Man made a swift mental +comparison between the schoolgirl bridesmaid who vied with midshipmen +in devouring ices, and his hostess of three years or so later. + +"Doesn't it?" he said. For one instant their eyes met, shyly +questioning, a little curious. The laughter died out of hers. + +"My eldest brother's in the North Sea now. We haven't seen him since +the War started." + +The Indiarubber Man nodded. "Yes, he's in a battle-cruiser, isn't he? +We don't get ashore much either, as a matter of fact. But to-day----" +He entered into a lengthy statement of naval policy that led up to his +visit and the circumstances connected with it. It was a rather tedious +explanation, but it filled in the time till tea arrived, when Betty +busied herself among the tea-cups; her brother drew his chair close to +their guest, and sat regarding him with breathless expectancy. Was +this the side-splitting humorist Betty had talked so much about for +months after the wedding--and then abruptly refused to mention again? + +Joe experienced a growing sense of disillusionment. There was nothing +about the Indiarubber Man's conversation to justify high hopes of +laughter-provoking humour. In fact, the guest's general demeanour +compared unfavourably with that of the curate--a shy young man, victim +(had Joe but known it) of a hopeless and unrequited passion. + +Joe handed the Indiarubber Man his cup with the air of one prepared to +enjoy at all events the spectacle of a juggling trick with the teaspoon +or saucer. The guest's chief concern, however, appeared to be in +finding a more secure resting-place for it than his knee, coupled with +anxiety not to drop crumbs on the carpet. + +Betty, presiding behind the silver tea-tray, had adopted her most +grown-up manner. Decidedly it was all Betty's fault, therefore. The +most confirmed humorist could hardly be expected to indulge in +drolleries in the presence of a girl who stuck her nose in the air and +put on enough side for six. It became increasingly obvious that the +depressed jester must straightway be removed from this blighting +influence or ever the cap and bells would jingle. + +No sooner was tea over, therefore, than Joe sprang to his feet. "I +say, would you like to go for a walk?" Once outside, the flower of wit +would expand without a doubt. + +The Indiarubber Man appeared nonplussed at the proposal. "I--it's very +kind of you----" Then he turned to Betty. "Shall we all three go for +a walk?" + +"Oh, it's no use asking her to go for a proper walk," interposed the +alarmed Joe. "Her skirts are too narrow; she can't keep step, or jump +ditches, or anything." + +Betty laughed. "Are you anxious to jump ditches, Mr. Standish? +Because, if not, I think I might be able to keep up with you both." +She rose to her feet, a slim, gracefully modelled young woman who +looked perfectly capable of keeping up with anyone--or of jumping +ditches, too, for that matter. "I'll get my things if you will wait a +second." Joe, unseen by their guest, made a face at her of unfeigned +brotherly disgust. + +In the open air, however, the guest's spirits gave no more evidence of +an upward tendency than they had indoors. The trio walked, via the sea +front, to the gardens on top of the cliffs that overlooked the harbour. +Joe directed the conversation; it was largely concerned with battle and +bloodshed. + +"Mr. Standish, what do you do in action?" he asked presently. + +"Nothing," was the reply. "I just put my fingers in my ears and shut +my eyes--I'm the officer of the after turret. But when it's all over I +put on overalls and crawl about the works on my stomach and get a dirty +face with the best of them. A wit once defined a turret as a bundle of +tricks done up in armour." + +"Is it thick armour?" asked Betty. + +"They tell me it is--fellows on board who pretend to know everything. +But I suspect that to be a mere ruse to get me to stay inside it." + +Joe sighed. "I _do_ envy you," he said. "Everyone seems to have +something to do, 'cept me. Even Betty here----" + +The Indiarubber Man turned his head sharply. "Why, what----" + +Betty turned pink. "I'm going to nurse--on the East Coast. My old +school has been turned into a hospital. And the other day Miss +Dacre--she was the principal, you know, and she is nursing there +now--wrote to mother and said they would take me." + +"But," said the Indiarubber Man, "d'you think you could stick +it--hacking off fellows' legs, and that sort of thing? Blessed if I +could do it." + +"Oh, yes," was the calm reply. "I passed all my exams, a long time +ago--in fact, I've been working down here at this hospital for the last +six months. We learned a good deal at school, you see. Home nursing, +and so on." + +"Did you, by Jove! Simple dishes for the sick-room and spica bandages, +and all the rest of it?" + +Betty laughed. "Oh, yes, all that." + +The Indiarubber Man glanced at her small, capable hands, and from them +to the dainty profile beside him. "Well," he said, "if I get bent by +an eight-inch shell I shall know where to come." + +Betty laughed again; "I should have to look that up in a book, then, +before I nursed you. It might mean complications!" + +"It might," replied the Indiarubber Man. + +From the town below, where here and there a window went suddenly aflare +with the reflection of the sunset-light, there drifted up to them the +faint, clear call of a bugle. Another took it up along the front, and +yet another. The Indiarubber Man raised his head abruptly. + +"That's the recall!" he said, and turned towards the ships. "Yes, +they've hoisted the Blue Peter. I wonder--the boats are coming in, +too." + +"Does that mean you must go at once?" + +He nodded soberly. "I'm afraid so," and held out his hand. "Good-bye." + +"Hallo!" said Joe. "I say, you're not off, are you? What's up?" + +"That's what I'm going to find out," was the reply. "I believe it's +another of their dodges to lure me inside my turret. Good-bye, Miss +Betty. Don't forget to read up the book of the words--in case of +complications. . . . Good-bye!" The Indiarubber Man departed down one +of the steep paths that led to the lower road and the landing-place. +The brother and sister turned and walked slowly back to the house. + +Their conversation on the way was confined to speculation on the part +of Joe as to the reason for this sudden recall. His theories covered a +wide range of possibilities. Only when they reached the house did +Betty volunteer a remark, and then in the privacy of her own room, +whose window looked out across the harbour and the sea. + +"Oh, I hate the War," she said. "I hate it, I _hate_ it. . . ." + + + +[1] Paying calls. + + + + +V + +THE KING'S PARDON + +Ask the first thousand bluejackets you meet ashore, any afternoon the +Fleet is giving leave, why they joined the navy. Nine hundred and +ninety-nine will eye you suspiciously, awaiting the inevitable tract. If +none is forthcoming they will give a short, grim laugh, shake their +heads, and, as likely as not, expectorate. These portents may be taken +to imply that they really do not know themselves, or are too shy to say +so, if they do. + +The thousandth does not laugh. He may shake his head; spit he certainly +will. And then, scenting silent sympathy, he guides you to a quiet +bar-parlour where you can pay for his beer while he talks. + +This is the man with a past and a grievance. + + * * * * * + +Nosey Baines, Stoker Second-class, was a man with a past. He also owned +a grievance when he presented himself for entry into His Majesty's Navy. +They were about his only possessions. + +"Nosey" was not, of course, his strict baptismal name. That was +Orson--no less. Therein lay the past. "Nosey" was the result of facial +peculiarities quite beyond his control. His nose was out of proportion +to the remainder of his features. This system of nomenclature survives +from the Stone Age, and, sailors being conservative folk, still finds +favour on the lower-decks of H.M. Ships and Vessels. + +The Writer in the Certificate Office at the Naval Depot, where Nosey +Baines was entered for service as a Second-class Stoker under training, +had had a busy morning. There had been a rush of new entries owing to +the conclusion of the hop-picking season, the insolvency of a local +ginger-beer bottling factory, and other mysterious influences. Nosey's +parchment certificate (that document which accompanies a man from ship to +ship, and, containing all particulars relating to him, is said to be a +man's passport through life) was the nineteenth he had made out that +morning. + +"Name?" + +Nosey spelt it patiently. + +"Religion?" + +Nosey looked sheepish and rather flattered--as a Hottentot might if you +asked him for the address of his tailor. The Writer gave the surface of +the parchment a preparatory rub with a piece of indiarubber. "Well, come +on--R. C., Church of England, Methodist . . . ?" + +Nosey selected the second alternative. It sounded patriotic at all +events. + +"Next o' kin? Nearest relative?" + +"Never 'ad none," replied Nosey haughtily. "I'm a norfun." + +"Ain't you got _no_ one?" asked the weary Writer. He had been doing this +sort of thing for the last eighteen months, and it rather bored him. +"S'pose you was to die--wouldn't you like no one to be told?" + +Nosey brought his black brows together with a scowl and shook his head. +This was what he wanted, an opportunity to declare his antagonism to all +the gentler influences of the land. . . . If he were to die, even . . . + +The Ship's Corporal, waiting to guide him to the New Entry Mess, touched +him on the elbow. The Writer was gathering his papers together. A +sudden wave of forlornness swept over Nosey. He wanted his dinner, and +was filled with emptiness and self-pity. The world was vast and +disinterested in him. There were evidences on all sides of an unfamiliar +and terrifying discipline. . . . + +"You come allonger me," said the voice of the Ship's Corporal, a deep, +alarming voice, calculated to inspire awe and reverence in the breast of +a new entry. Nosey turned, and then stopped irresolutely. If he were to +die---- + +"'Ere," he said, relenting. "Nex' o' kin--I ain't got none. But I +gotter fren'." He coloured hotly. "Miss Abel's 'er name; 14 Golder's +Square, Bloomsbury, London. Miss J. Abel." + +This was Janie--the Grievance. It was to punish Janie that Nosey had +flung in his lot with those who go down to the sea in ships. + +Prior to this drastic step Nosey had been an errand-boy, a rather +superior kind of errandboy, who went his rounds on a ramshackle bicycle +with a carrier fixed in front. Painted in large letters on the carrier +was the legend: + + J. HOLMES & SON, + FISHMONGER ICE, ETC., + +and below, in much smaller letters, "Cash on delivery." + +Janie was a general servant in a Bloomsbury boarding-house. She it was +who answered the area door when Nosey called to deliver such kippers and +smoked haddock as were destined by the gods and Mr. Holmes for the +boarding-house breakfast table. + +It is hard to say in what respect Janie lit the flame of love within +Nosey's breast. She was diminutive and flat-chested; her skin was sallow +from life-long confinement in basement sculleries and the atmosphere of +the Bloomsbury boarding-house. She had little beady black eyes, and a +print dress that didn't fit her at all well. One stocking was generally +coming down in folds over her ankle. Her hands were chapped and +nubbly--pathetic as the toil-worn hands of a woman alone can be. +Altogether she was just the little unlovely slavey of fiction and the +drama and everyday life in boarding-house-land. + +Yet the fishmonger's errand-boy--Orson Baines, by your leave, and captain +of his soul--loved her as not even Antony loved Cleopatra. + +Janie met him every other Sunday as near three o'clock as she could get +away. The Sunday boarding-house luncheon included soup on its menu, +which meant more plates to wash up than usual. They met under the third +lamp-post on the left-hand side going towards the British Museum. + +Once a fortnight, from 8 p.m. till 10 p.m., Janie tasted the penultimate +triumph of womanhood. She was courted. Poor Janie! + +No daughter of Eve had less of the coquette in her composition. Not for +a moment did she realise the furrows that she was ploughing in Nosey's +amiable soul. Other girls walked out on their Sundays. The possession +of a young man--even a fishmonger's errand-boy on twelve bob a week--was +a necessary adjunct to life itself. Of all that "walking out" implied: +of love, even as it was understood in Bloomsbury basements, Janie's +anaemic little heart suspected very little; but romance was there, +fluttering tattered ribbons, luring her on through the drab fog of her +workaday existence. + +It was otherwise with Nosey. His love for Janie was a very real affair, +although what sowed the seeds was not apparent, and although the soil in +which they took root and thrived--the daily interviews at the area door +and these fortnightly strolls--seemed, on the face of it, inadequate. +Perhaps he owed his queer gift of constancy to the mysterious past that +gave him his baptismal name. They were both unusual. + +A certain Sunday afternoon in early autumn found them sitting side by +side on a seat in a grubby London square. Janie, gripping the handle of +cook's borrowed umbrella, which she held perpendicularly before her, the +toes of her large boots turned a little inwards, was sucking a peppermint +bull's-eye. + +To Nosey the hour and the place seemed propitious, and he proposed heroic +marriage. + +"Lor!" gasped Janie, staring before her at the autumn tints that were +powdering the dingy elms with gold-dust. There was mingled pride and +perplexity in her tones; slowly she savoured the romantic moment to the +full, turning it over in her mind as the bull's-eye revolved in her +cheek, before finally putting it from her. Then: + +"I couldn't marry you," she said gently. "You ain't got no prospecks." +Walking out with twelve bob a week was one thing; marriage quite a +different matter. + +In the Orphanage where she had been reared from infancy the far-seeing +Sisters had, perhaps, not been unmindful of the possibility of this +moment. A single life of drudgery and hardship, even as a boarding-house +slavey, meant, if nothing more, meals and a roof over her head. +Improvident marriage demanded, sooner or later, starvation. This one +star remained to guide her when all else of the good Sisters' teaching +grew dim in her memory. + +Prospecks--marry without and you were done. So ran Janie's philosophy. +The remains of the bull's-eye faded into dissolution. + +Nosey was aghast. The perfidy of women! "You led me on!" he cried. +"You bin carry in' on wiv me. . . . 'Ow could you? Pictur' palaces an' +fried fish suppers an' all." He referred to the sweets of their +courtship. "'Ow, Janie!" + +Janie wept. + +After that the daily meetings at the area door were not to be thought of. +Nosey flung himself off in a rage, and for two successive nights +contemplated suicide from the parapet of Westminster Bridge. The irksome +round of duties on the ramshackle bicycle became impossible. The very +traffic murmured the name of Janie in his ears. London stifled him; he +wanted to get away and bury himself and his grief in new surroundings. +Then his eye was caught by one of the Admiralty recruiting posters in the +window of a Whitehall post office. It conjured up a vision of a roving, +care-free life . . . of illimitable spaces and great healing winds. . . . +A life of hard living and hard drinking, when a man could forget. + +But somehow Nosey didn't forget. + + * * * * * + +The Navy received him without emotion. They cut his hair and pulled out +his teeth. They washed and clothed and fed him generously. He was +taught in a vast echoing drill-shed to recognise and respect authority, +and after six months' preliminary training informed that he was a +Second-class Stoker, and as such drafted to sea in the Battle-Cruiser +Squadron. + +Here Nosey found himself an insignificant unit among nearly a thousand +barefooted, free-fisted, cursing, clean-shaven men, who smelt perpetually +of soap and damp serge, and comprised the lower-deck complement of a +British battle-cruiser. + +He worked in an electric-lit, steel tunnel, with red-hot furnaces on one +side, and the gaping mouths of coal caverns on the other. You reached it +by perpendicular steel ladders descending through a web of hissing steam +pipes and machinery; once across greasy deck-plates and through a maze of +dimly lit alleys, you would find Nosey shovelling coal into the furnaces +under the direction of a hairy-chested individual afflicted, men said, by +religious mania, who sucked pieces of coal as an antidote to chronic +thirst, and spat about him indiscriminately. + +There were eight-hour intervals in this work, during which Nosey slept or +ate his meals or played a mouth-organ in the lee of one of the +turret-guns on deck, according to the hour of the day. He slept in a +hammock slung in an electric-lit passage far below the water-line; the +passage was ten feet wide, and there were six hammocks slung abreast +along the entire length of it. + +He ate his meals in a mess with twenty other men, the mess consisting of +a deal plank covered with oilcloth for a table, and two narrower planks +on either side as seats; there were shelves for crockery against the +ship's side. All this woodwork was scrubbed and scoured till it was +almost as white as ivory. Other messes, identical in every respect, +situated three feet apart, ranged parallel to each other as far as the +steel, enamelled bulkheads. There were twenty men in each mess, and +seventeen messes on that particular mess-deck, and here the members +simultaneously ate, slept, sang, washed their clothes, cursed and +laughed, skylarked or quarrelled all round during the waking hours of +their watch-off. + +Still Nosey did not forget. + + * * * * * + +Then came Janie's letter from the Middlesex Hospital. Janie was in a +"decline." + +The men who go down into trenches in the firing-line are, if anything, +less heroic than the army of cooks and Janies who descend to spend their +lives in the basement "domestic offices" of Bloomsbury. Dark and +ill-ventilated in summer, gas-lit and airless throughout the foggy +winter. Flight upon flight of stairs up which Janie daily toiled a +hundred times before she was suffered to seek the attic she shared with +cook under the slates. Overwork, lack of fresh air and recreation--all +these had told at last. + +Nosey availed himself of week-end leave from Portsmouth to journey up to +London, and was permitted an interview with her in the big airy ward. +Neither spoke much; at no time had they been great conversationalists, +and now Janie, more diminutive and angular than ever, lost in the folds +of a flannel nightgown, was content to hold his hand as long as he was +allowed to remain. + +The past was ignored, or nearly so. "You didn't orter gone off like +that," said Janie reproachfully. "But I'm glad you're a sailor. You +looks beautiful in them clothes. An' there's prospecks in the Navy." +Poor little Janie: she had "prospecks" herself at last. + +He left the few flowers he had brought with the sister of the ward when +the time came to leave. The nurse followed him into the corridor. "Come +and see her every visiting day you can," she said. "It does her good and +cheers her. She often speaks of you." + +Nosey returned to Portsmouth and his ship. His mess--the mess-deck +itself--was agog with rumours. Had he heard the "buzz"? Nosey had not. +"I bin to London to see a fren'," he explained. + +Then they told him. + +The battle-cruiser to which he belonged had been ordered to join the +Mediterranean Fleet. That was Monday; they were to sail for Malta on +Thursday. + +And Janie was dying in the Middlesex Hospital. + + * * * * * + +The next visiting day found him at Janie's bedside. But, instead of his +spick-and-span serge suit of "Number Ones" and carefully ironed blue +collar, Nosey wore a rusty suit of "civvies" (civilian clothes). Instead +of being clean-shaven, an inconsiderable moustache was feeling its way +through his upper lip. + +"Where's your sailor clothes?" asked Janie weakly. + +Nosey looked round to reassure himself that they were not overheard. "I +done a bunk!" he whispered. + +Janie gazed at him with dismayed eyes. "Not--not deserted?" + +Nosey nodded. "Don't you take on, Janie. 'S only so's I can stay near +you." He pressed her dry hand. "I got a barrer--whelks an' periwinkles. +I've saved a bit o' money. An' now I can stay near you an' come 'ere +visiting days." + +Janie was too weak to argue or expostulate. It may have been that she +was conscious of a certain amount of pride in Nosey's voluntary outlawry +for her sake; and she was glad enough to have someone to sit with her on +visiting days and tell her about the outside world she was never to see +again. She even went back in spirit to the proud days when they walked +out together. . . . It brought balm to the cough-racked nights and the +weary passage of the days. + +Then the streets echoed with the cries of paper-boys. The nurses +whispered together excitedly in their leisure moments; the doctors seemed +to acquire an added briskness. Once or twice she heard the measured +tramp of feet in the streets below, as a regiment was moved from one +quarters to another. + +England was at war with Germany, they told her. But the intelligence did +not interest Janie much at first. That empires should battle for +supremacy concerned her very little--till she remembered Nosey's late +calling. + +It was two days before she saw him again, and he still wore his "civvy" +suit. Janie smiled as he approached the bed, and fumbled with the +halfpenny daily paper that somebody had given her to look at. + +'"Ere," she whispered, "read that." + +Nosey bent over and read the lines indicated by the thin forefinger. + + +His Majesty the King has been graciously pleased to approve of pardons +being granted to all deserters from the Royal Navy and Marines who +surrender themselves forthwith. + + +There was silence in the ward for a moment. Far below in the street +outside a transport wagon rumbled by. Janie braced herself for the +supreme act of her life. + +"You gotter go," said she. + +Nosey stared at her and then back at the newspaper. "Not me!" he +retorted, and took possession of her hand. + +"That's the King's pardon," said Janie, touching the halfpenny news-sheet +with transparent fingers. "'Tain't no use you comin' 'ere no more, 'cos +I won't see you. I'll ask 'em at the door not to let you in." + +Nosey knew that note of indomitable obstinacy in the weak voice. He +knew, as he sat looking down upon the fragile atom in the bed, that he +could kill her with the pressure of a finger. + +But there was no way of making Janie go back on her decision once her +mind was made up. "If there's a war, you orter be fightin'," she added. +"There's prospecks . . ." Her weak voice was almost inaudible, and the +nurse was coming down the ward towards them. + +Nosey lifted the hot, dry little claw to his lips. "If you sez I gotter +go, I'll go," and rose to his feet. + +"'Course you gotter go. The King sez so, an' I sez so. Don't you get +worritin' about me; I'll be all right when you comes 'ome wiv yer medals. +. . ." + +Nosey caught the nurse's eye and tiptoed out of the ward. Janie turned +her face to the Valley of the Shadow. + + + + +VI + +AN OFF-SHORE WIND + +The circular rim of the fore-top took on a harder outline as the sky +paled at the first hint of dawn. + +From this elevation it was possible to make out the details of the +ships astern, details that grew momentarily more distinct. Day, +awakening, found the Battle Fleet steaming in line ahead across a +smooth grey sea. The smoke from the funnels hung like a long dark +smear against the pearly light of the dawn; but as the pearl changed to +primrose and the primrose to saffron, the sombre streamers dissolved +into the mists of morning. + +Somewhere among the islands on our starboard bow a little wind awoke +and brought with it the scent of heather and moist earth. It was a +good smell--just such a smell as our nostrils had hungered for for many +months--and it stirred a host of vagrant memories as it went sighing +past the halliards and shrouds. + +It was the turn of the Indiarubber Man (with whom I had shared the +night's vigil aloft) to snatch a "stretch off the land" with his back +against the steel side of our erie [Transcriber's note: eyrie?]. He +shifted his position uneasily, and the hood of his duffel-suit fell +back: his face, in the dawning, looked white and tired and unshaven. +Cinders had collected in the folds of the thick garment as wind-blown +snow lies in the hollows of uneven ground. + +As I stood looking down at him an expression of annoyance passed across +his sleeping countenance. + +"Any old where----" he said in a clear, decisive voice. "Down a +rabbit-hole . . ." + +And I laughed because the off-shore wind had fluttered the same page in +the book of pleasant memories that we both shared. The petulant +expression passed from his face, and he sank into deeper oblivion, +holding the Thermos flask and binoculars against him like a child +clasping its dolls in its sleep. + +It was just before we mobilised for the summer--a mobilisation which, +had we but known it, was to last until our book of pleasant memories +was thumbed and dog-eared and tattered with much usage--that the +Indiarubber Man suggested taking a day off and having what he called a +"stamp." He fetched our ordnance map and spread it on the ward-room +table, and we pored over it most of the evening, sucking our pipes. + +All Devon is good; and for a while the lanes had called us, winding +from one thatched village to another between their fragrant, +high-banked hedges. "Think of the little pubs . . ." said the +Indiarubber Man dreamily. We thought of them, but with the vision came +one of cyclists of the grey-sweater variety, and motorists filling the +air with petrol fumes and dust. + +There was the river: woodland paths skirting in the evening a world of +silver and grey, across which bats sketched zigzag flights. Very nice +in the dimpsey light, but stuffy in the daytime. So the moor had it in +the end. We would trudge the moor from north to south, never seeing a +soul, and, aided by map and compass, learn the peace of a day spent off +the beaten tracks of man. + +We had been in the train some time before the Indiarubber Man made his +electrifying discovery. + +"Where's the map?" We eyed one another severely and searched our +pockets. "We were looking at it before I went to get the tickets," he +pursued. "I gave it to you to fold up." + +So he had. I left it on the station seat. + +At a wayside station bookstall we managed to unearth an alleged +reproduction of the fair face of South Devon to replace the lost map. + +The Indiarubber Man traced the writhings of several caterpillars with +his pipe-stem. "These are tors," he explained generously. After this +we studied the map in silence, vainly attempting to confirm our +recollections of a course marked out the previous evening on an +ordnance survey map. + +We were both getting slightly confused when, with a screech of brakes, +the train pulled up at the little moorside station that was our +destination by rail. Sunlight bathed the grey buildings on the +platform and the sleepy village beyond. From the blue overhead came +the thin, sweet notes of a lark, and as we listened in the stillness we +heard a faint whispering "swish" like the sound of a very distant +reaper. It was the wind flowing across miles of reeds and grass and +heather from the distant Atlantic. But it was not until half an hour +later, when we breasted the crest of the great hog-back that stretched +before us like a rampart, that we ourselves met the wind. It came out +of the west, athwart the sun's rays, a steady rush of warm air; and +with it came the tang of the sea and hint of honey and new-mown hay +that somehow clings to Devon moorland through all the changing seasons. + +A cluster of giant rocks piled against the sky to our left drew us +momentarily out of our course. With some difficulty we scrambled up +their warm surfaces, where the lichen clung bleached and russet, and +stood looking out across the rolling uplands of Devon. Worthier +adventurers would have improved the shining hour with debate as to the +origin of this upflung heap of Nature's masonry. Had it served +departed Phoenicians as an altar? Heaven and the archaeologists alone +knew. + +To the northward the patchwork of plough and green corn, covert and +hamlet commenced at the edge of the railway and stretched undulating +over hill and dale to where a grey smudge proclaimed the sea. + +South lay the moor, inscrutable and mysterious, dotted with the +monuments of a people forgotten before walls ringed the seven hills of +Rome. The outlines of tors, ever softening in the distance, led the +eye from rugged crest to misty beacon till, forty miles away, they +dissolved into the same grey haze. + +The Indiarubber Man pointed a lean, prophetic forefinger to the rolling +south. "There's Wheatwood," he said. "Come on." And so, shouldering +our coats, with the hot sunlight on our right cheeks and the day before +us, we started across Dartmoor. + +For nearly two hours the tor from which we had started watched with +friendly reassurance over intervening hills; then it dipped out of +sight, and we were conscious of a sudden loneliness in a world of +enigmatic hut-circles, peopled by sheep and peewits. We were working +across a piece of ground intersected by peat-cuttings, and after half +an hour of it the Indiarubber Man fished out the map and compass from +his pocket. + +"There ought to be a clump of trees, a hut-circle, and a Roman road +knocking about somewhere. Can you see anything of them?" + +I searched the landscape through glasses from my recumbent position in +the heather, but prolonged scrutiny failed to reveal a single tree, nor +was the Roman road startlingly obvious in the trackless waste. Our map +had proved too clever for us. In the circumstances there was only one +thing to be done. With awful calm we folded the sheet, tore it into +little pieces, and hid them in a rabbit-hole. + +For about five miles after that we kept along a promontory that +shouldered its way across an undulating plain, ringed in the distance +by purple hills; then we sighted our distant landmark--a conical +beacon--that we had been steering for. We were descending, thigh-deep +in bracken, when the wind bore down to us from a dot against the +skyline of a ridge the tiniest of thin whistles. A few minutes later a +sheep-dog raced past in the direction of a cluster of white specks. +For a while we watched it, and each lithe, effortless bound, as it +passed upon its quest, struck a responsive chord within us--we who +floundered clumsily among the boulders in our path. + +But, for all this momentary exhilaration, it seemed a long time later +that we struck the source of the burn which would in time guide us to +our half-way halting place. To us, who had been nurtured on its broad +bosom,[1] there was something almost pathetic--as in meeting an old +nurse in much reduced circumstances--about this trickle among the peat +and moss. Lower down, however, it widened, and the water poured over +granite boulders, with a bell-like contralto note, into a succession of +amber pools. + +There we shed our few garments on the bank, and the moments that +followed, from the first exultant thrill as the water effervesced over +our bodies till we crawled out dripping to dry in the wind and sun, +seemed to hold only gratitude--an immense undefined gratitude to the +Power that held all life. At its heels came hunger, wonderfully well +defined. + +Lower down, where the road that stretches like a white ribbon over the +bosom of the moor crosses the river, there is an inn. I will not name +it: writers of poems and guide-books--worthier penmen all--have done +that. Besides, quite enough people go there as it is. We dropped, via +a kine-scented yard and over a seven-foot bank, into the road abreast +the inn door, and here a brake, freighted with tourist folk, brought us +suddenly back to the conventions that everyday life demands. + +True, we were never fain to cling to these; but, standing there on the +King's high-road, clad in football knickers and thin jerseys, sun-burnt +and dishevelled, we were conscious of a sudden immense embarrassment. +And, in sooth, had we dropped from the skies or been escaping from the +grey prison not far distant, the tenants of the brake could hardly have +been less merciful in their scrutiny or comments. + +After the clean wind of the moor, the taint of the last meal and +over-clad fellow-beings seemed to cling unpleasantly to the +low-ceilinged room whither we fled, and I do not think we breathed +comfortably again till we had paid our bill and returned to the +sunlight. Before leaving we inquired the time, and learned it was +nearly four o'clock. + +One ought to "know the time," it seems, among men's haunts; but, once +out of sight of these, it suffices, surely, to eat when hungry, sleep +when tired, roam as long as daylight and legs will let one--in fine, to +share with the shaggy ponies and browsing sheep a lofty disregard for +all artificial divisions of the earth's journey through space. And our +joint watch happened at the time to be undergoing repairs in Plymouth. + +To follow the ramifications of a road gives one no lasting impression +of the surrounding country, but directly a wanderer has to depend on +landmarks as a guide, all his powers of observation quicken. One +ragged hill-top guided us to another, across valleys scored with the +workings of forgotten tin-mines. A brook, crooning its queer, +independent moor-song between banks of peat, rambled beside us for some +time. Then, as if wearying of our company, it turned abruptly and was +lost to view; in the summer stillness of late afternoon we heard it +babbling on long after our ways separated. + +If the truth be known, I suspect it deemed us dullish dogs. But we +were tiring--not with the jaded weariness begotten of hard roads, when +the spine aches and knees stiffen; no, a comfortable lassitude was +slackening our joints and bringing thoughts of warm baths and supper. +However, our shadows, valiant fellows, swung along before us across the +rusty bracken with a cheerful constancy, and, encouraged by their +ever-lengthening strides and by the solitude, we even found heart to +lift our voices in song. Now and again small birds fled upwards with +shrill twitters at our approach, and settled again to resume their +interrupted suppers; but after a while they left for their roosts in +the rowans and sycamores to the south, and rabbits began to show +themselves in the open spaces among the furze. As if reluctantly, the +perfect day drew to its close. + +We raced up the flank of a long ridge to keep the setting sun in view, +reaching the crest as it dipped to meet a ragged tor, and sank in a +golden glow. A little wind, like a tired sigh, ruffled the tops of the +heather, swayed the grass an instant, and was gone. + +"Ah-h-h!" breathed the Indiarubber Man in the stillness. + +A thousand feet below us smoke was curling from the thickly wooded +valley. It was five miles away, but somewhere amid those trees men +brewed and women baked. + +"Come on," he added tensely. "Beer!" + +As we descended into the lowlands a widening circle of night was +stealing up into the sky--the blue-grey and purple of a pigeon's +breast. A single star appeared in the western sky, intensifying the +peace of the silent moor behind us. Stumbling through twilit woods and +across fields of young barley, we met a great dog-fox _en route_ for +someone's poultry-run. He bared his teeth with angry effrontery as he +sheered off and gave us a wide berth across the darkening fields. +Doubtless he claimed his supremacy of hour and place, as did the +sheep-dog that passed us so joyously earlier in the day. And, after +all, what were we but interlopers from a lower plane! + +The thirty-odd miles of our ramble reeled up like a tape-measure as we +reached the lane, splashed with moonlight, that led us to the village. +The gateway to every field held a pair of lovers whispering among the +shadows: yet inexplicably they seemed an adjunct of their surroundings +and the faintly bewildering night-scents. A dog sitting at the gate of +a cottage uttered a short bark as we neared his domain; then, with a +queer grumbling whimper, he came to us across the dust, and perhaps +because--as far as is given to man in his imperfections--we had not +wittingly done evil that day, he slobbered at our hands. + +In the flagged and wainscotted parlour of the village inn a child +brought us bread and cheese and froth-crested mugs of beer. While we +ate and drank, she watched us with tranquil interest in violet-coloured +eyes that foretold a sleepless night for some bucolic swain in years to +come. + +The Indiarubber Man finished his last draught and stood up with a +mighty sigh to loosen his belt. Then, bending down, he took the +child's flower-like face between his hands: + +"'Now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace,'" he said gravely. +Beer was ever prone to lend a certain smack of Scripture to his remarks. + +"Surt'nly," said the little maid, all uncomprehending, and ran out to +fetch our reckoning. + + * * * * * + +The Thermos flask slid with a clatter on to the steel deck of the top, +and the Indiarubber Man opened his eyes. He yawned and stretched +himself and rose stiffly to his feet. + +The first rays of the sun were rising out of the sea. "Hai-yah!" He +yawned. "Another bloomin' day. . . . I was dreaming . . . about . . . +blowed if I can remember what I was dreaming about." He adjusted the +focus of his glasses and stared out across the North Sea. "I wonder if +they're coming out to-day." + +It was the two hundred and seventy-third morning we had wondered that. + + + +[1] The River Dart. + + + + +VII + +THE DAY + +Although it all happened in that dim, remote period of time "Before the +War," Torps and the First Lieutenant, the Indiarubber Man (who was the +Lieutenant for Physical Training Duties), the Junior Watchkeeper, and +others who participated, long afterwards referred to it as "The Day." + +Since then they have seen their own gunfire sink an enemy's ship as a +well-flung brick disposes of an empty tin on the surface of a pond. +The after twelve-inch guns, astride whose muzzles David and Freckles +once soared to the giddy stars, have hurled instantaneous and awful +death across leagues of the North Sea. The X-ray apparatus, by the +agency of which Cornelius James desired to see right through his own +"tummy," has enabled the Fleet Surgeon to pick fragments of steel out +of tortured bodies, as a conjurer takes things out of a hat. The +after-cabin, that had witnessed so many informal tea-and-muffin +parties, has been an ether-reeking hospital. + +Yet these memories grew blurred in time, as mercifully such memories +do. It was another and more fragrant one that sweetened the grim +winter vigil in the North, when every smudge of smoke on the horizon +might have been the herald of Armageddon. They were yet to see men die +by scores in the shambles of a wrecked battery, by hundreds on the +shell-torn decks of a ship that sank, fighting gallantly to the last. +And the recollection of what I am about to relate doubtless supplied +sufficient answer to the question that at such times assails the minds +of men. + +Two who helped in that unforgettable good-night scene on the aft-deck +were destined to add their names to the Roll of Britain's Honour. It +is not too much to hope that the echo of children's merriment guided +their footsteps through that dark Valley of the Shadow to the peaks of +Eternal Laughter which lie beyond. + + * * * * * + +It all started during one of those informal tea-parties the Skipper's +Missus sometimes held in the after-cabin. They were delightful +affairs. You needn't accept the Invitation if you didn't want to; +there was no necessity to put on your best monkey-jacket if you did. +You were just told to "blow in" if you wanted some tea, and then you +made your own toast, and there was China tea, in a big blue-and-white +pot, that scented the whole cabin. + +The Skipper's Missus sat by the fire, with her hands linked round her +knees in her habitually graceful and oddly characteristic attitude; +Torps and Jess, those gentle philosophers, occupied the chintz-covered +settee; the A.P. sat on the hearth-rug, cross-legged like a tailor, so +that he could toast and consume the maximum number of muffins with the +minimum amount of exertion; the Junior Watchkeeper, who by his own +admission "went all the bundle on his tea," and the Indiarubber Man, +who was clumsy with a tea-cup, shared the table and a jam-pot, and sat +munching, tranquil-eyed, like a pair of oxen in a stall. + +The Captain and the First Lieutenant were rummaging through the drawers +of the knee-hole table in search of an ancient recipe of the former's +for manufacturing varnish of a peculiar excellence wherewith to +beautify the corticene on the aft-deck. + +"How are the children?" asked the Torpedo Lieutenant, helping himself +to milk and Jess to a lump of sugar. "Out of quarantine yet?" + +"Yes," replied the youthful mother of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius +James. "At last, poor things! Christmas is such a wretched time to +have measles. No parties, no Christmas-tree----" + +The A.P. looked up from the absorbing task of buttering a muffin to his +satisfaction. "D'you remember the Christmas when you all came on +board--wasn't it a rag? I broke my glasses because I was a tiger. I +was that fierce." + +"And I was chased by the dockyard police all the way from the Admiral +Superintendent's garden with a young fir-tree under my arm. We had it +for a Christmas-tree in the wardroom. Do you remember?" + +They were all old friends, you see, and had served two commissions in +succession with this Captain. + +"Isn't it rather hard on the _Chee-si's_?" asked Torps, "being done out +of their parties--no, Jess, three lumps are considered quite enough for +little dogs to consume at one sitting." + +The Skipper's Missus looked across the cabin at her husband: "Tim, your +tea's getting cold. Why shouldn't we have a children's party on board +one day next week? It isn't too late, is it?" + +"Yes, sir," chimed in the Indiarubber Man. "A _pukka_ children's +party, with wind-sails for them to slither down and a merry-go-round on +the after-capstan?" + +The Captain drank his tea thoughtfully; his blue eyes twinkled. "Let +us have a definition of _children_, Standish. I seem to remember a +certain bridesmaid at the Gunnery Lieutenant's wedding of what I +believe is technically called the 'flapper' age----" + +"Quite right, sir," cut in the Torpedo Lieutenant. "Our lives were a +misery for weeks afterwards. He burbled about 'shy flowerets' in his +sleep, sir----" + +The Indiarubber Man blushed hotly. "Not 't'll, sir. They're talking +rot. She thought I was ninety, and daft at that. They always do," he +added sighing, the sigh of a sore heart that motley traditionally +covers. + +"I propose that we have no one older than Georgina or younger than +Cornelius James," suggested the Junior Watchkeeper. "That limits the +ages to between ten and seven, and then I think Standish's susceptible +heart would be out of danger." + +"How many children do you propose to turn loose all over the ship?" +inquired the First Lieutenant dourly. "No one seems to have taken my +paint-work into consideration. It's all new this week." + +The Skipper's Missus laughed softly. "We were so concerned about Mr. +Standish's heart, Mr. Hornby, that we quite forgot your paint-work. +Couldn't it be all covered up just for this once? Besides, they are +such tiny children . . ." + +There are many skippers' missuses, but only one mother of Georgina, +Jane, and Cornelius James. + +The First Lieutenant capitulated. + +"I vote we don't have any grown-ups, either," contributed the Junior +Watchkeeper, "except ourselves. Mothers and nurses always spoil +children's parties." + +The mother of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius James wrung her hands in +mock dismay. "Oh, but mayn't I come? I promise not to spoil +anything--I love parties so!" + +The A.P. rushed in where an angel might have been excused for +faltering. "Glegg means that you don't count as a grown-up at a +children's party," he explained naively, regarding the Skipper's Missus +through his glasses with dog-like devotion. + +She laughed merrily. "You pay a pretty compliment, Mr. Gerrard!" + +"Double-O" Gerrard reddened and lapsed into bashful silence. + +"It is agreed, then. We are to have a children's party, and I may +come. Won't the children be excited!" + +"Torps, what are you going to do with them," asked the First +Lieutenant, "besides breaking their necks by pushing them down the +windsails?" He spoke without bitterness, but as a man who had in his +youth embraced cynicism as a refuge and found the pose easier to retain +than to discard. + +The Torpedo Lieutenant regarded him severely. "It's no good adopting +this tone of lofty detachment, Number One. You're going to do most of +the entertaining, besides keeping my grey hairs company." + +The First Lieutenant laughed, a sad, hard laugh without any laughter in +it. "I don't amuse children, I'm afraid. In fact, I frighten them. +They don't like my face. No, no----" + +"Mr. Hornby," interposed the Skipper's Missus reproachfully, "that +isn't quite true, is it? You know Jane prays for you nightly, and +Corney wouldn't for worlds sleep without that wooden semaphore you made +him----" + +"I think Hornby would make an admirable Father Neptune," said the +Captain, considering him mischievously, "with a tow wig and beard----" + +"And my green bath kimono," supplemented the A.P. "I bought it at +Nagasaki, in the bazaar. It's got green dragons all over it----" He +met the First Lieutenant's eye and lapsed into silence again. + +"Yes! Yes! And oyster-shells sewn all over it, and seaweed +trailing . . ." The Skipper's Missus clapped her hands. "And +distribute presents after tea. Oh, Mr. Hornby, _wouldn't_ that be +lovely!" + +The First Lieutenant took no further part in the discussion. But late +that night he was observed to select a volume of the "Encyclopaedia +Britannica" (L-N) from the wardroom library, and retire with it to his +cabin. His classical education had been scanty, and left him in some +doubt as to what might be expected of the son of Saturn and Rhea at a +children's party. + + + +2 + +"I doubt if any of 'em'll face it," said the First Lieutenant +hopefully, when The Day arrived. "There's a nasty lop on, and the +glass is tumbling down as if the bottom had dropped out. It's going to +blow a hurricane before midnight. Anyhow, they'll all be sick coming +off." + +The Torpedo Lieutenant was descending the ladder to the picket-boat. +"Bunje and I are going in to look after them. It's too late to put it +off now." He glanced at the threatening horizon. "They'll be all snug +once we get them on board, and this'll all blow over before tea-time." + +Off went the steamboats, the Torpedo Lieutenant in the picket-boat and +the Indiarubber Man in the steam pinnace, and a tremor of excitement +ran through the little cluster of children gathering at the jetty steps +ashore. + +"It's awfully rough outside the harbour," announced Cornelius James, +submitting impatiently to his nurse's inexplicable manipulation of the +muffler round his neck. "I'm never sick, though," he confided to a +small and rather frightened-looking mite of a girl who clung to her +nurse's hand and looked out to the distant ship with some trepidation +in her blue eyes. "My daddy's a Captain," continued Cornelius James; +"and I'm _never_ sick--are you?" + +She nodded her fair head. "Yeth," she lisped sadly. + +"P'r'aps your daddy isn't a Captain," conceded Cornelius James +magnificently. + +The maiden shook her head. "My daddy's an Admiral," was the slightly +disconcerting reply. + +"I shall steer the boat," asserted Cornelius James presently, by way of +restoring his shaken prestige. + +"Oh, Corney, you can't," said Jane. "Casey always lets Georgie steer +father's galley--you know he does. You're only saying that to show +off." + +"'M not," retorted Cornelius James. "I'm a boy: girls can't steer +boats. 'Sides, Georgie'll be sick." + +"Oh, I hope there'll be a band and dancing," said Georgina rapturously. + +"That's all you girls think about," snorted a young gentleman of about +her own age, with deep scorn. "_I_ hope there'll be a shooting +gallery, an' those ras'berry puffs with cream on top. . . ." His eye +followed the pitching steamboats, fast drawing near. "Anyhow, I hope +there'll be a shooting gallery. . . . I say, it's rather rough, isn't +it?" + +The children, cloaked and muffled in their wraps, watched the boats +buffet their way shoreward in clouds of spray. The parting injunctions +of nurses and governesses fell on deaf ears. How could anyone be +expected to listen to prompted rigmaroles about "bread and butter +before cake" and "don't forget to say thank you for asking me" with the +prospect of this brave adventure drawing so near? + +Georgina, standing on tip-toe with excitement, suddenly emitted a +shrill squeal of emotion. "Oh! there's Mr. Mainwaring in the first +boat!" + +"Who's Mr. Mainwaring?" inquired a small girl with a white bow over one +ear, secretly impressed by Georgina's obvious familiarity with the +inspiring figure in the stern sheets of the picket-boat. + +"_Dear_ Mr. Mainwaring!" repeated Georgina under her breath, gazing +rapturously at her idol. + +White Bow repeated her query. + +"He's--he's Mr. Mainwaring," replied Georgina. "My Mr. Mainwaring." +Which is about as much information as any young woman may reasonably be +expected to give another who betrays too lively an interest in her +beloved. + +The Torpedo Lieutenant waved his arm in a gesture of indiscriminate +greeting, and the children responded with a fluttering of hands and +dancing eyes. The steam pinnace was following hard in the wake of the +picket-boat. + +Jane, with the far-seeing eye of love, recognised the occupant +instantly. "There's Mr. Standish," she said. "_My_ Mr. Standish!" + +The nurse of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius James turned to the +Providence that brooded over a small boy with a freckled face. "Did +you ever hear such children?" she asked in an aside. "_Her_ Mr. +Standish! That's the way they goes on all day!" + +The other nodded. "Mine's like that, too; only it's our ship's +Sergeant of Marines with him." Master Freckles's choice in the matter +of an idol had evidently not lacked the wise guidance of his nurse. + +The boats swung alongside in the calm waters of the basin. The Torpedo +Lieutenant handed his freight of frills and furbelows to the Coxswain's +outstretched arms. The small boys to a man disdained the helping hand, +but scrambled with fine independence into the stern sheets. + +"Sit still a minute." The Indiarubber Man counted. ". . . +Eight--twelve! Hallo! Six absentees---- No, Corney, you can't steer, +because I'm going to clap you all below hatches the moment we get +outside." He raised his voice, hailing the picket-boat. "All right, +Torps?" The Torpedo Lieutenant signified that they were all aboard the +lugger, and off they went. + +The nurses assembled on the end of the jetty waved their handkerchiefs +with valedictory gestures; the wind caught their shrill farewells and +tossed them contemptuously to where the gulls wheeled far overhead. + +"My! Isn't it blowing!" said the small boy in freckles, indifferent to +his nurse's lamentations of farewell. "Look at Nannie's skirts, like a +balloon. . . ." + +"Yes," agreed the Torpedo Lieutenant gravely. "It's what's called a +typhoon. I've only seen one worse, and that was the day I sailed in +pursuit of Bill Blubbernose, the Bargee Buccaneer." + +Georgina cast him a glance of passionate credence. + +"Oh!" gasped Freckles, "have you really chased pirates?" The Torpedo +Lieutenant nodded. A certain three weeks spent in an open cutter off +the coast of Zanzibar as a midshipman still remained a vivid +recollection. + +"Tell us about it," said the children, and snuggled closer into the +shelter of the Torpedo Lieutenant's long arms. + +The steamboats drew near the ship, and in the reeling stern-sheets of +the steam-pinnace the Indiarubber Man stood holding two small figures +by the collars--two small figures whose heads projected far beyond the +lee gunwale. They were Cornelius James and the young gentleman whose +valiant soul had yearned for shooting galleries and eke raspberry +puffs. And, horror of horrors! the little girls were laughing. + +The picket-boat had no casualties to report, and as she went plunging +alongside, the Junior Watchkeeper (in sea-boots at the bottom of the +ladder) heard the Torpedo Lieutenant say: + +"We cut their noses off and nailed them to the flying jibboom." + +"And what happened then?" gasped the enthralled Freckles as he was +picked up and hoisted over the rail on to the spray-splashed ladder. + +"And they all lived happily ever afterwards," murmured the Torpedo +Lieutenant absently. "Come on, who's next? One, two, three--on the +next wave. _Hup_ you go!" + +At the top of the ladder to greet each small guest stood the mother of +Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius James. She had lunched on board with her +husband and had spent the early part of the afternoon fashioning a +garment for Father Neptune-- + + "That the feast might be more joyous, + That the time might pass more gaily, + And the guests be more contented," + +quoted the First Lieutenant with his twisted smile, as he tried it on. + +The quarterdeck had been closed in with an awning and side curtains of +canvas that made all within as snug as any nursery. The deck had been +dusted with French chalk; bright-coloured flags draped the canvas +walls; the band was whimpering to start. + +Cornelius James and his fellow sufferer were not long in recovering +from their indisposition; a glass of milk and biscuits soon restored +matters to the normal, and together they sallied forth to sample the +joys that had been prepared for them. + +There were windsails stretched from the after-bridge to mattresses on +the quarter-deck, down which one shot through the dizzy darkness to end +in a delicious "wump" at the bottom. The after-capstan was a +roundabout, with its squealing passengers suspended from capstan-bars. +Each grim twelve-inch gun had a saddle strapped round the muzzle, on +which one sat, thrilled and ecstatic, while the great guns rose slowly +to extreme elevation and descended again to mundane levels. + +There were pennies for the venturesome, to be extracted at great +personal risk from an electric dip; in a dark casemate a green light +shivered in a little glass tube; you placed your hand in front of it, +and on a white screen a skeleton hand appeared in a manner at once +ghostly and delightful. Cornelius James returned to the quarter-deck +as one who had brushed elbows with the Black Arts. "But I wish I could +see right froo my own tummy," he confided, sighing, to the First +Lieutenant. + +The First Lieutenant, however, was rather _distrait_; he glanced +constantly upwards at the bellying awning overhead and then walked to +the gangway to look out upon the tumbling grey sea and lowering sky. +Once or twice he conferred with a distinguished-looking gentleman who +had not joined in the revels, but, carrying a telescope and wearing a +sword-belt, remained aloof with a rather worried expression. This was +the Officer of the Watch. + +"We'll furl it while they're having tea," said the First Lieutenant. +"But how the deuce they're going to get ashore the Lord knows. I'll +have to hoist in the boats if it gets any worse. Keep an eye on the +compass and see we aren't dragging." The Captain came across the deck. + +"You must furl the awning, Hornby; we're in for a blow." He looked +round regretfully at the laughing throng of youngsters. + +"Yes, sir. And I think we ought to send the children ashore while +there's still time." As he spoke a wave struck the bottom of the +accommodation ladder and broke in a great cloud of spray. + +"Too late now, I'm afraid. They'll have to stay till it moderates. +The wind has backed suddenly. Get steam on the boat-hoist and hoist in +the boats. You'd better top-up the ladders. Pretty kettle of fish, +with my wife and all these children on board." + + + +3 + +Tea had passed into the limbo of things enjoyed, if not forgotten, and +the guests had gathered in the after-cabin. "Children!" cried the +mother of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius James, "a visitor has come on +board to see you!" As she spoke, a gaunt apparition appeared in the +doorway. He wore a gilt paper crown, and was dressed in a robe of the +brightest green. Seaweed hung in festoons from his head and shoulders, +oyster-shells clashed as he walked; in one hand he carried a trident, +and on his back a heavy pannier. His legs were encased in mighty +boots, a shaggy beard hung down over his chest; his eyes, sombre and +unsmiling, roved over the assembled children. + +There was a sudden silence: then the small girl with the white bow over +one ear burst into tears. "Boo-hoo!" she cried. "Don't like nasty +man," and ran to bury her face in her hostess's gown. Her fears were +infectious, and symptoms of a general panic ensued. "I knew it," +mumbled the visitor despairingly into his beard, "I _knew_ this would +happen." + +"Children, children, don't be silly--it's only Father Neptune. He's +got presents for you all. Won't you go and say how d'you do to him! +He's come all the way from the bottom of the sea." + +Cornelius James pulled himself together and advanced with outstretched +hand, as befitted the son of a post-captain on board his father's ship. +"I know who you are," he asserted stoutly. "You're Father Christmas's +brother!" + +The First Lieutenant hastily accepted this new mythology. "Quite +right," he replied with gratitude, "quite right!" Then, as if +realising that something further was required of him, added in a deep +bass voice: + +"_Fee! Fi! Fo! Fum!_" + +White Bow screamed, and even Cornelius James the valiant fell back a +pace. Matters were beginning to look serious, when the Torpedo +Lieutenant appeared, rather out of breath. "Sorry we had to rush away +just now, but we had to furl the awning----" His quick eye took in the +situation at a glance. + +"Hallo! old chap," he cried, and smote the dejected Father Neptune +on the back. "I _am_ delighted to see you! How are all the +mermaids and flying-fish? Bless my soul! what have you got in this +pannier--dolls . . . lead soldiers, air-guns! I _say_----" + +The children rallied round him as the children of another age must have +rallied round Saint George of England. + +"Don't like nasty old man," repeated White Bow, considering the First +Lieutenant with dewy eyes. "Nasty cross old man." The visitor from +the bottom of the sea fumbled irresolutely with his trident. + +"Is it really Father Christmas's own brother?" queried a small sceptic, +advancing warily. + +"Of course it is! Look here, look at all the things he's brought you," +and in an undertone to the First Lieutenant, "Buck up, Number One, +don't look so frightened!" They unslung the pannier and commenced to +unpack the contents; the children gathered round with slowly returning +confidence, and by twos and threes the remainder of the hosts returned +from the upper-deck. + +"Why aren't they all wet if they've come from the bottom of the sea?" +demanded Freckles the materialist. "Why isn't Father Christmas's +brother wet?" + +They looked round in vain. Father Christmas's brother had vanished. + +At that moment the Captain entered and sought his wife's eye. For a +few moments they conferred in an undertone; then she laughed, that +clear confident laugh of hers with which they had shared so many of +life's perplexities. + +"Children!" she cried, "listen! Here's an adventure! We've all got to +sleep on board to-night!" + +"Oh, mummie!" gasped Georgina with rapture, "how _lovely_!" This was a +party, and no mistake. "Can I sleep in Mr. Mainwaring's cabin?" + +"And can I sleep in Mr. Standish's cabin?" echoed Jane earnestly. "And +we needn't go to bed for hours and hours, need we?" chimed in Cornelius +James. + +"Where are they to sleep?" asked the Captain's wife, turning to the +Torpedo Lieutenant with laughter still in her eyes. "I never thought +of that. One always has spare rooms in a house, but a battleship is so +different. . . ." + +"It's all right," he replied. "I've arranged all that. There are a +lot of people ashore: the children can use their cabins, and some of us +can sling in cots for the night. They'll have to wear our +pyjamas. . . . But I don't know about baths----" + +"I think they must have plenary absolution from the tub to-night." She +glanced at the tiny watch at her wrist. "Now then, children, half an +hour before bed time: one good romp. What shall we play?" + +"Oranges and lemons," said Georgina promptly, and seized the +Indiarubber Man's hand. + +"I don't know the words," replied her partner plaintively; "I only +'knows the toon,'" as the leadsman said to the Navigator. + +So the children supplied the words to the men's bass accompaniment; the +Captain and his wife linked hands. The candle came to light them to +bed; the chopper came to chop off a head; and at the end a grand +tug-of-war terminated with two squealing heaps of humanity in miniature +subsiding on top of the Young Doctor and the A.P. + +Then they played "Hunt the slipper," at which Torps, with his long +arms, greatly distinguished himself, and "Hide the thimble," at which +Double-O Gerrard, blinking through his glasses straight at the quarry +without seeing it, was hopelessly disgraced. "General Post" and "Kiss +in the Ring" followed, and quite suddenly the mother of Georgina, Jane, +and Cornelius James decreed it was time for bed, and the best game of +all began. + +The Captain's wife gathered six pairs of vasty pyjamas over her arm. +"I'll take the girls all together and look after them in my husband's +cabin," she said. "We'll come along when we're ready. Will you all +look after the boys?" + +Freckles fell to the lot of the Junior Watchkeeper; David, specialist +in raspberry puffs, had already attached himself to the Indiarubber +Man. The A.P. found himself leading off a young gentleman with an +air-gun which he earnestly desired as a bed-fellow. The remaining two, +red-headed twins who had spent most of the afternoon locked in combat, +were in charge of Torps and the Young Doctor. + +"Where's Cornelius James?" asked the First Lieutenant suddenly. "What +a day, what a day!" A search party was promptly instituted, and the +Captain's son at last discovered forward in the Petty Officers' mess. +Here, seated on the knee of Casey, his father's coxswain, he was being +regaled with morsels of bloater, levered into his willing mouth on the +point of a clasp knife, and washed down by copious draughts of strong +tea out of a basin. + +"I went to say 'Good night' to Casey," explained the delinquent as he +was being led back to civilisation, "and Casey said I ought to be +hungry after mustering my bag this afternoon. What does that mean?" + +"I shouldn't listen to everything Casey tells you," replied the First +Lieutenant severely. + +"That's what daddy says sometimes," observed Cornelius James. "But I +like Casey awfully. Better'n Nannie. He taught me how to make a +reef-knot, an' I can do semaphore--the whole alphabet . . . nearly." + +"Here we are," interrupted his harassed mentor, stopping before the +door of his cabin. "This is where you've got to sleep." He lifted his +small charge on to the bunk. "Now then, let's get these shoes +off. . . ." + +The flat echoed with the voices of children and the sounds of +expostulation. The Marine sentry (specially selected for the post "on +account of 'im 'avin' a way with children," as the Sergeant-Major had +previously explained to the First Lieutenant) drifted to and fro on his +beat with a smile of ecstatic enjoyment on his faithful R.M.L.I. +features. For some moments he hovered outside the Junior Watchkeeper's +cabin. There were indications in the conversation drifting out through +the curtained doorway that all was not well within. At length Private +Phillips could contain himself no longer. "Better let me do it, sir. +Bein' a married man, sir, I knows the routine, in a manner o' +speakin' . . ." he said, and plunged into the fray. + +"Oh, is that you, Phillips?" the relieved voice of the Junior +Watchkeeper was heard to say. "I can't get the lead of this infernal +rice-string--don't wriggle, Jim--it's rove so taut. . . ." + +"What '_normous_ pyjamas," said Cornelius James, suffering himself to +be robed in his night-attire. The operation was conducted with some +difficulty because of the sheathed sword which the visitor had found in +a corner of his host's cabin and refused thereafter to be parted from. +"Have you ever killed anyone with this sword?" A blustering sea broke +against the ship's side and splashed the glass of the scuttle with +spray. "Hark at the waves outside! Can't I have the window open? +Shall I say my prayers to you?" + +"No," replied the First Lieutenant, with a little wry smile, as the +shadow-fingers of the might-have-been tightened momentarily round his +heart. "No, I think you'd better wait till Mummie comes." Shrill +voices and peals of laughter sounded outside. "Here she is now." + +He stepped outside, and met the mother of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius +James at the head of her flock. + +"Here we are," she exclaimed, laughing. "But, oh, Mr. Hornby, our +pyjamas are so _huge_!" + +"So are ours," said the First Lieutenant, and stooped to gather into +his arms a pathetic object whose pyjama coat of many colours almost +trailed along the deck. "Cornelius James wants you to go and hear him +say his prayers. . . . I will find sleeping quarters for this one." + +Ten minutes later the last child had been swung into its unaccustomed +sleeping quarters; the twins in adjacent cabins had ceased to hurl +shrill defiance at each other; and silence brooded over the flat. By +the dim light of the police-lamp Private Phillips paced noiselessly up +and down on his beat, and the mother of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius +James passed softly from cabin to cabin in that gentle meditation +mothers play at bedtime. + +On her way aft to the after-cabin she met the Torpedo Lieutenant. "The +children all want to say 'Good night' to you," she said softly. "Only +don't stay long. They are so excited, and they'll never go to sleep." +Of all the men on board the Torpedo Lieutenant's heart was perhaps +nearest that of a child. He tiptoed into the cabin-flat and drew the +curtain of the nearest cabin. + +"Who's in here?" + +"Me," said a small voice. Torps approached the bunk. "Who's +'me'--Georgina?" + +"Yes. Goodnight, Mr. Mainwaring." + +"Good night, shrimp," replied her idol, submitting to the valediction +of two skinny arms twined tightly round his neck. "Good night, and +sweet dreams. . . . No, I can't tell you stories to-night; it's much +too late. . . . Lie down and go to sleep." + +In the next cabin, the sound of deep breathing showed that the small +occupant had passed into dreamland. It was Freckles. Jane remained +awake long enough to kiss his left eyebrow and was asleep the next +instant. White Bow also was asleep, and nearly all the remainder +drowsy. Cornelius James, clasping the First Lieutenant's sword, +however, remained wide-eyed. "I'm so firsty," he complained +plaintively. + +"That's called Nemesis, my son," said Torps, and gave him to drink out +of the water-bottle. "Fank you," said Cornelius James, and sighed, as +children and dogs do after drinking. + +"Good night, Corney. . . . Now you must go to sleep and dream of +bloaters. Oh, aren't you really sleepy? Well, if you shut your eyes +tight perhaps the dustman won't see you," and switched out the light. +As he was leaving a drowsy voice again spoke out of the darkness. + +"What did the Buccaneer say when you nailed his nose to the flying +jibboom?" + +"Please make me a good boy," replied Torps, somewhat at random. + +"Oh, same's I do," said Cornelius James. + +"More or less; isn't that sword very uncomfortable?" + +But no answer came back, for Cornelius James, the hilt of the sword +grasped firmly in two small hands, had passed into the Valhalla of +Childhood. + + + + +VIII + +THE MUMMERS + +The sun had not long set, and its afterglow bathed the bay in pink +light. It was a land-locked harbour, and the surface of the water held +the reflections of the anchored Battle-fleet mirrored to its smallest +detail. So still was the evening that sounds travelled across the +water with peculiar acute distinctness. + +On the quarter-deck of the end ship of the lee line a thousand men were +trying to talk in undertones, lighting and relighting pipes, rallying +their friends on distant points of vantage, and humming tunes under +their breath. The resultant sound was very much like what you would +hear if you placed your ear against a beehive on a summer day, only +magnified a million-fold. + +The ship's company of a super-Dreadnought, and as many men from other +ships as could be accommodated on board, were gathered on the foremost +part of the quarter-deck, facing aft. They sat in rows on mess stools, +they were perched astride the after-turret guns, on the shields of the +turrets, clinging to rails, stanchions and superstructure, tier above +tier of men clad in night-clothing--that is to say, in blue jumper and +trousers, with the white V of the flannel showing up each seaman's +bronzed neck and face. Seamen and marines all wore their caps tilted +comfortably on the backs of their heads, as is the custom of men of +H.M. Navy enjoying their leisure. Above them all the smoke from a +thousand pipes and cigarettes trembled in a blue haze on the still air +of a summer evening. + +They were there to witness an impromptu sing-song--a scratch affair +organised at short notice to provide mirth and recreation for a ship's +company badly in need of both. It was a ship's company hungry for +laughter after endless months of watching and waiting for an enemy that +was biding his time. Their lungs ached for a rousing, full-throated +chorus ("_All_ together, lads!"). They were simply spoiling to be the +most appreciative audience in the world. + +On the after-part of the quarter-deck a stage had been hurriedly +constructed--a rude affair of planks and spars that could be disposed +of in a very few moments if necessity arose--that supported a piano. A +canvas screen, stretched between two stanchions behind the stage, did +duty as scenery, and afforded the performers a "green-room"--for, of +all the ritual connected with appearing upon a stage, the business of +"making-up" lies nearest to the sailor's heart. Provide him with a +lavish supply of grease-paint, wigs, and the contents of the chaplain's +or the officer of his division's wardrobe, and the success or otherwise +of his turn, when it ultimately comes, matters little to the +sailor-man. He has had his hour. + +In front of the stage, a little in advance of the men, rows of chairs +and benches provided sitting accommodation for the officers. They came +up from dinner, lighting pipes and cigars, a full muster from Wardroom, +Gunroom and Warrant Officers' Mess. The Captain came last, and his +appearance was the signal for a great outburst of cheering from the +closely packed audience. They had been waiting for this moment. It +gave them an opportunity of relieving their pent-up feelings; it also +gave them a chance to show the rest of the Fleet their attitude towards +this Captain of theirs. + +It was something they were rather proud that the rest of the Fleet +should see. + +Moreover, the rest of the Fleet, leaning over the forecastle rails and +smoking its evening pipe, did see, and was none the worse for it. + +A man might have been excused if he betrayed some self-consciousness at +finding himself thus suddenly the cynosure of a thousand-odd pair of +eyes whose owners were doing their best to show him, after their +fashion, that they thought him an uncommonly fine fellow. The +atmosphere was electrical with this abrupt, boyish ebullition of +feeling. Yet the Captain's face, as he took his seat, was as composed +as if he were alone in the middle of his own wide moors. He lit a pipe +and nodded to the Commander beside him to signify that as far as he was +concerned the show could start as soon as they liked. + +All happy ships own a sing-song party of some sort or another. It may +be that the singers are content to sit pipe in mouth in the lee of a +gunshield and croon in harmony as the dusk settles down on a day's work +done. Other ships' companies are more ambitious; the canteen provides +a property-box, and from a flag-decked stage the chosen performers +declaim and clog-dance with all the circumstance of the drama. + +In days of piping peace, the Operatic and Dramatic Company of this +particular ship had known many vicissitudes. Under the guidance of a +musically inclined Ship's Steward, it had faced audiences across +impromptu footlights as "The Pale Pink Pierrots," and, as such, had +achieved a meteoric distinction. But unhappily the Ship's Steward was +partial to oysters, and bought a barrelful at an auction sale ashore. +On the face of things, it appeared a bargain; but the Ship's Steward +neglected to inquire too closely into the antecedents of its contents, +and was duly wafted to other spheres of usefulness. + +The Chaplain, an earnest man but tone-deaf, rallied the leaderless +troupe of musicians. During the period of his directorship they were +known to fame as "The Musical Coons." Musical in that each one wielded +a musical instrument with which he made bold to claim acquaintance, +Coons because they blacked their faces with burnt cork and had +"corner-men." The corner-men were the weak spots in an otherwise +well-planned organisation. + +A sailor can be trusted with the integrity of a messmate's honour or +the resources of the mint, conceivably with the key of a brewery +cellar, and justify the confidence reposed in him. But he cannot be +trusted to be a corner-man, "gagging" with a black face and a pair of +bones. The Musical Coons dissolved after one performance, during which +the Captain's brow grew black and the Chaplain turned faint, and an +ecstatic ship's company shouted itself hoarse with delirious enjoyment. + +Thereafter, for a period, the breath of rebuke and disrepute clung to +the songsters; but a ship without a sing-song party is like a dog +without a tail. A committee of Petty Officers waited upon the First +Lieutenant, as men once proffered Cromwell the Protectorship of +England, lest a worse thing befell them. The First Lieutenant, with a +reluctance and a full sense of the responsibilities involved, that was +also Cromwellian, finally consented to become the titular head of the +sing-song party. + +He it was, then, who rose from his chair, holding a slip of paper, and +faced the great bank of faces with one hand raised to enjoin silence. +The cheering redoubled. + +For perhaps fifteen seconds he stood with raised hand, then he lowered +it and the smile left his eyes. His brows lowered too. The cheering +wavered, faltered, died away. They knew what Number One meant when he +looked like that. + +"The first item on the programme," he said in his clear voice, "is a +song by Petty Officer Dawson, entitled, 'The Fireman's Daughter,'" and +sat down again amid loud applause. + +The A.P. rose, hopped on to the stage, and sat down at the piano that +occupied one wing of the stage. Petty Officer Dawson, who was also the +ship's painter, emerged from behind the canvas screen, coyly wiping his +mouth on the back of his hand. The piano tinkled out the opening bars +of the song, and the concert began. + +It was a sad song; the very first verse found the fireman's daughter on +her death-bed. But the tune was familiar and pleasantly mournful, and, +as the piano thumped the opening bars of the refrain for the second +time, the hundreds of waiting men took it up readily. The melody +swelled and rose, till the sadness of the theme was somehow overwhelmed +by the sadness that is in the harmony of men's voices singing in the +open air. + +Petty Officer Dawson was a stout man addicted in daily life to the +inexplicable habit of drying his gold-leaf brush in the few wisps of +hair Nature had left him with. His role on the occasion of a concert +was usually confined to painting the scenery. The nation being at war, +and this particular concert held during the effective blockade of an +enemy's empire, scenery was out of the question. So, as one of the +recognised members of the sing-song party, he sang--with, be it added, +considerable effect. + +"The next item," announced the First Lieutenant (who knew his audience +better even than they knew him), "is a comic song entitled, 'Hold +tight, Emma!' by Stoker Williams." + +This was "Taff" Williams, Stoker First-class, comedian tenth-class, and +master of patter unintelligible (mercifully so, perhaps) to any but a +bluejacket audience. He was a wisp of a man with a pale, beardless +face and small features; incidentally, too, the scrum half of the +ship's Rugby team and the referee's terror. + +But he was more than this: he was the ship's wag, and so was greeted +with shouts and whistles of approval as he stepped on to the stage +attired in the burlesque counterfeit of an airman's costume. + +Perhaps you might not have thought his song so very funny after all. +It might even have struck you as vulgar, since it depended for its +humour upon gorgonzola cheese, the eldest son of the German Emperor, +_mal-de-mer_, and a number of other things not considered amusing in +polite society. But the sailor's susceptibilities are peculiar: they +were there to enjoy themselves, and again and again a great gust of +laughter swept over the audience as an autumn gale convulses the trees +on the outskirts of a forest. The singer's topical allusions, sly +incomprehensibilities, he flung about him like bombs that burst in an +unfailing roar of delight among his shipmates. No wonder they liked +him; and even the padre, who perforce had to knit his brows once or +twice, looked regretful when the last encore was over. + +Taff Williams's song was succeeded by a duet. The singers were also +comedians, but of a different calibre. Some odd freak of Nature had +fashioned them both astoundingly alike in face and frame. They were +baldish men, short and sturdy, with sandy eyebrows and lashes of so +light a colour as to be almost invisible. Their countenances were +round and expressionless, and their song, which was called "We are the +Brothers Boo-Hoo!" contained little beyond reiterations of the fact, +interspersed with "steps" of a solemn and intricate nature. + +Ordinarily their avocations and walks in life were separated by a wide +gulf. One was a Petty Officer and L.T.O., the other a stoker. But +Fame recognises no distinctions of class or calling, and circumstances +over which they had little control, the universal decree of the ship's +company in short, drove them on to the stage to face successive +audiences side by side as The Brothers Boo-Hoo. Neither dreamed of +appearing there without the other, although off it, save for a few +grave rehearsals, they rarely met. They were not vocalists, but they +bowed to popular demand, preserving their stolid, immobile demeanours, +and sang in accents sternly and unintelligibly Gaelic. + +Their turn over, the First Lieutenant announced a juggling display by +Boy Buggins. Boy Buggins appeared, very spick and span in a brand new +suit of Number Threes, and proceeded to juggle with canteen eggs, +Indian clubs and mess crockery (while the caterer of his mess held his +breath to the verge of apoplexy) in a manner quite bewildering. + +The Captain took his pipe out of his mouth and leaned towards the +Commander. "Where did the lad pick up these antics?" he inquired, +smiling. + +The Commander shook his head. "I don't know, sir. Probably in a +circus." + +As a matter of fact, Boy Buggins did start life (as far as his memory +carried him) in grubby pink tights and spangles. But he followed in +the train of no circus; it was in front of public-houses in a district +of London where such pitches recurred with dreary frequency that he cut +capers on a strip of carpet. He visited them nightly in the company of +a stalwart individual who also wore pink tights. After each +performance the stalwart one ordained an interval for refreshment. On +good days he used to reach home very much refreshed indeed. + +They called it home (it was a cellar) because they slept there; and as +often as not a thin woman with tragic eyes was there waiting for them. +She used to hold out her hand with a timid, shamed gesture, and there +was money in it which the man took. If he had had a good day or she a +bad one--it was always one or the other--the stalwart one beat the +woman, or, in his own phraseology, "put it acrost" her. But ultimately +he had one good day too many, or else he felt unusually stalwart, for +the woman lay motionless in the corner of the cellar where she was +flung, and wouldn't answer when he had finished kicking her. + +The police took the stalwart one away to swing for it, and "the parish" +took the thin woman away in a deal box. Boy Buggins passed, via an +industrial training ship, into the Royal Navy, and earned the +Distinguished Conduct Medal before this particular sing-song had passed +out of the minds of those who were present at it. + +One must conclude that all these things were, as the Arabs say, on his +forehead. + +"Private Mason, R.M.L.I.--Concertina Solo!" + +A great burst of laughter and cheering broke out from the sailors, and +redoubled as a private of Marines, holding a concertina in his gnarled +fists, walked on to the stage. Even the officers put their hands up to +smile behind them; one or two nearest the First Lieutenant leaned over +and patted him on the back as if he had achieved something. + +The whole audience, officers and men, were evidently revelling in some +tremendous secret reminiscence conjured up by the appearance of this +private of Marines. Yet, as he stood there, fingering the keys of his +instrument, waiting for the uproar to subside, there was little about +him to suggest high humour. He was just a thin, rather +delicate-looking man with a grizzled moustache and dreamy eyes fixed on +vacancy. His claim to notoriety, alas, lay in more than his +incomparable music. Human nature at its best is a frail thing. But +human nature, as typified by Private Mason, was very frail. Apart from +his failing he was a valuable asset to the sing-song party; but, +unhappily, it required all the resources and ingenuity of its promoters +to keep Private Mason sober on the night of an entertainment. + +When and how he acquired the wherewithal to wreck the high hopes of the +reigning stage manager was a mystery known to him alone. His messmates +drained their tots at dinner with conscientious thoroughness, and his +into the bargain, striving together less in the cause of temperance +than from a desire that he should for once do himself and his +concertina (of which he was a master) justice. + +Yet, his turn announced, on the last occasion of a concert before the +war, the curtain rose upon an empty stage. The Carpenter's party +happened upon him, as archaeologists might excavate a Sleeping Bacchus +or a recumbent Budda, in the process of dismantling the stage. Private +Mason was underneath it, breathing stertorously, a smile of beatific +contentment on his worn features, his head pillowed on his concertina. + +The Fleet Surgeon subsequently missed a large-sized bottle of +eau-de-Cologne from his cabin, which he was bringing home from +Gibraltar as a present for his wife. The discovery of the loss +assisted him in his diagnosis of the case. + +Silence fell on the audience at length, and the concertina solo began. +As has been indicated, Private Mason could play the concertina. In his +rather tremulous hands it was no longer an affair of leather and wood +(or of whatever material concertinas are constructed), but a living +thing that laughed and sobbed, and shook your soul like the Keening. +It became a yearning, passionate, exultant daughter of Music that +somehow wasn't quite respectable. + +And when he had finished, and passed his hand across his moist forehead +preparatory to retiring from the stage, they shouted for more. + +"Church bells, Nobby!" cried a hundred voices. "Garn, do the church +bells!" So he did the church bells, as the wind brings the sound +across the valley on a summer evening at home, wringing his shipmates' +sentimental heartstrings to the limit of their enjoyment. + +"Strewth!" ejaculated a bearded member of the audience when the turn +was over, relighting his pipe with a hand that shook. "I 'ear Nobby +play that at the Canteen at Malta, time Comman'er-in-Chief an' 'is +Staff was there--Comman'er-in-Chief, so 'elp me, 'e sob' like a woman. +. . ." + +The reminiscence may not have been in strict accordance with the truth, +but, even considered in the light of fiction, it was a pretty testimony +to Private Mason's art. + +The last turn of the evening came an hour later when the slightly +embarrassed Junior Watchkeeper stepped on to the stage. His appearance +was the signal for another great outburst of enthusiasm from the men. +He was not perhaps more of a favourite with them than any of his +brethren seated on the chairs below; but he was an officer, obviously +not at ease on a concert stage, only anxious to do his bit towards +making the evening a success. They realised it on the instant, with +the readiness of seamen to meet their officers half-way when the latter +are doing something they evidently dislike to help the common weal. +They knew the Junior Watchkeeper didn't want to sing, and they cared +little what he sang about, but they cheered him with full-throated +affection as he stood gravely facing them, waiting for a lull. + +It is just this spirit, of which so much has been imperfectly conveyed +to the layman--is, in fact, not comprehended in its entity by +outsiders--which is called for want of a better term "sympathy between +officers and men." It is a bond of mutual generosity and loyalty, +strong as steel, more formidable to an enemy than armaments; +strengthened by monotony and a common vigil, it thrives on hardships +shared, and endures triumphant, as countless tales shall tell, down to +the gates of Death. + +The Junior Watchkeeper's song was an old one--one that had stirred the +hearts of sailors no longer even memories with his audience. He sang +simply and tunefully in the strong voice of one who knew how to pitch +an order in the open air. When it was finished, he acknowledged the +tumultuous applause by a stiff little bow and retreated, flushing +slightly. The sing-song was over. + +The officers were rising from their chairs, the A.P. at the piano was +looking towards the Commander for permission to crash out the opening +bars of the Anthem that would swing the audience as one man to its +feet. At that moment a Signalman threaded his way through the chairs +and saluted the Captain. + +The latter took the signal-pad extended to him, and read the message. +Then he turned abruptly to the audience, his hand raised to command +silence. The last of the warm glow that lingered long in the northern +summer twilight lit his strong, fine face as he faced his men. There +was a great hush of expectancy. + +"Before we pipe down," he said, "I want to read you a message that has +just come from the Commander-in-Chief. 'One of our destroyers engaged +and sank by gunfire two of the enemy's destroyers this afternoon.'" + +A great roar of cheering greeted the curt message. The listening fleet +took it up, and in the stillness of the land-locked harbour the volume +of sound reverberated, savagely and triumphantly exultant. + +The hills ashore caught the echo and tossed it sleepily to and fro. + +Then, flushed with excitement and hoarse with shouting, they sang the +National Anthem to a close. + +Altogether, it was a very noisy evening. + + + + +IX + +CHUMMY-SHIPS + +The Lieutenant for Physical Training Duties came down into the Wardroom +and sank into the one remaining arm-chair. + +"I must say," he ejaculated, "the sailor is a cheerful animal. Umpteen +days steaming on end without seeing any enemy--just trailing the tail +of our coat about the North Sea--we come into harbour and we invite the +matelots to lie on their backs on the upper-deck (minus cap and jumper) +and wave their legs in the air by way of recreation. They comply with +the utmost good humour. They don't believe that it does them the +smallest good, but they know I get half-a-crown a day for watching them +do it, and they go through with it like a lot of portly gentlemen +playing 'bears' to amuse their nephews." + +The Indiarubber Man broke off and surveyed his messmates with a +whimsical grey eye. The majority were assimilating the contents of +illustrated weeklies over a fortnight old; two in opposite corners of +the settee were asleep with their caps tilted over their noses, +sleeping the sleep of profound exhaustion. One member of the mess was +amusing himself with a dice-box at the table, murmuring to himself as +he rattled and threw. + +The Indiarubber Man, in no wise irritated at the general lack of +interest in his conversation, wriggled lower in his arm-chair till he +appeared to be resting on the flat of his shoulder-blades, with his +chin buried in the lappels of his monkey-jacket. "I maintain," his +amiable monologue continued, "that there's something rather touching +about the way they flap their arms about and hop backwards and +forwards, and 'span-bend' and agonise themselves with such unfailing +good humour--don't you think so, Pills?" + +The Young Doctor gathered the dice again, knitting his brows. ". . . +Seventy-seven, seventy-eight--that's seventy-eight times I've thrown +these infernal dice without five aces turning up. And twenty-three +times before breakfast. How much is seventy-eight and twenty-three? +Three and eight's eleven, put down one and carry one--I beg pardon, I +wasn't listening to you. Did you ask me a question?" + +"I was telling you about the sailors chucking stunts on the +quarter-deck." + +"I don't want to hear about the sailors: they make me tired. There +isn't a sick man on board except one I've persuaded to malinger to keep +me out of mischief. They're the healthiest collection of human beings +I've ever met in my life." + +"That's me," retorted the Indiarubber Man modestly. "_I_ am +responsible for their glowing health. They haven't been ashore +for--how long is it?" + +"Ten years it feels like," said someone who was examining the pictorial +advertisements of an illustrated paper with absorbed interest. + +"Quite. They haven't had a run ashore for ten years--ever since the +war started, in fact; and yet, thanks to the beneficial effects of +physical training, as laid down in the book of the words, and +administered by the underpaid Lieutenant for Physical Training Duties, +the Young Doctor is enabled to sit in the mess all day and see how +often he can throw five aces. In short, he becomes a world's worker." + +"It's just _because_ they haven't been ashore for weeks and months, and +in spite of the Lieutenant for Physical Training--och! No, Bunje, +don't start scrapping--it's too early in the morning, and we'll +wake . . . those . . . poor devils----Eugh! Poof! There! What did I +tell you!" + +The two swaying figures, after a few preliminary cannons off sideboard, +arm-chair and deck stanchion, finally collapsed on to the settee. The +sleepers awakened with disgust. + +"Confound you, Bunje, you clumsy clown!" roared one. Between them they +seized the Young Doctor, who was a small man, and deposited him on the +deck. "Couldn't you see I was asleep, Pills?" demanded the other +hotly. "You've woken Peter, too. He's had--how many is it, +Peter?--eight morning watches running. I've brooded over him like a +Providence from the fore-top through each weary dawning, so I ought to +know." He yawned drowsily. "Peter saw a horn of the crescent moon +sticking out of a cloud this morning, and turned out the anti-aircraft +guns' crews. Thought it was the bows of a Zeppelin. Skipper was +rather peevish, wasn't he, Peter?" + +The Junior Watchkeeper grunted and turned over on to his other side. +"Well, you nearly opened fire on a northern diver in that flat calm at +dawn the other morning." The speaker cocked a drowsy eye on the mess +from under his cap-peak. "Silly ass vowed it was the periscope of an +enemy's submarine coming to the surface." + +"Truth is," said the Indiarubber Man, "your nerves are shattered. +Pills, here's a job for you. Give the lads two-penn'orth of bromide +and stop their wine and extras. In the meanwhile," he pulled a small +book out of his pocket, "I have here a dainty _brochure_, entitled, +'_Vox Humana_--Its Ascendancy over Mere Noise'--otherwise, 'Handbook +for Physical Training.' I may say I was partly responsible for its +production." + +"I believe you, faith!" said the Fleet Surgeon bitterly, over the top +of the B.M.J. + +The Indiarubber Man wheeled round. "P.M.O.! That's not the tone in +which to speak to your Little Ray of Sunshine. It lacked _joie de +vivre_." The speaker beamed on the mess. "I think we are all getting +a little mouldy, if you ask me. In short, we are not the bright boys +we were when war broke out. Supposing now--I say supposing--we +celebrated our return to harbour, and the fact that we haven't bumped a +mine-field, by asking our chummy-ship to dinner to-night, and giving +them a bit of a chuck-up! Which is our chummy-ship, by the way? +Where's the _What Ho!_ lying?" He walked to the scuttle and stuck his +head out. "Blessed if I can tell t'other from which now we're all so +beautifully disguised." + +"We haven't got a chummy-ship," replied the A.P. "We don't want a +chummy-ship. Nobody loves us. We hate each other with malignant +hatred by reason of hobnailed livers." + +"And if we had," interposed another Lieutenant gloomily, "they'd far +rather stay on board their own rotten ship. They're probably getting +used to their messman by now. The sudden change of diet might be +fatal." The speaker turned to the Young Doctor. "Pills, what d'you +get when you change your diet sudden-like--scurvy, or something awful, +don't you?" + +"Hiccoughs." The Surgeon dragged his soul from the depths of a frayed +_Winning Post_ and looked up. His face brightened. "Why? Anyone +here----" + +"No, no, that's all right, my merry leech. Only Bunje wants to ask the +_What Ho's_ to dinner." + +"Yes," interposed the Gunnery Lieutenant, with a sudden access of +enthusiasm. "Let's ask 'em. Where's the Navy List?" He flung a +tattered Navy List on the table and pored over it. + +"Hear, hear!" chimed in the Engineer Lieutenant-Commander. "Let's be a +band of brothers, an' all drinks down to the mess the whole evening." + +The mess generally began to consider the project. + +"Here's the Commander," said someone. "Casting-vote from him! D'you +mind if we ask the _What Ho's_ to dinner, sir? We all feel we should +be better, nobler men after a heart-to-heart talk with our +chummy-ships." + +"Ask anyone you like," replied the Commander, "as long as they don't +ask me to dine with them in their ship by way of revenge." + +"Carried!" exclaimed the Indiarubber Man. "'Commander, 'e sez, spoke +very 'andsome!' I will now indite a brief note of invitation. Bring +me pens, ink and paper. _Apportez-moi l'encre de mon cousin, aussi du +poivre, du moutard et des legumes--point a la ligne_! I got a prize +for French in the _Britannia_." + +Here the Fleet Surgeon said something in an undertone about a village +idiot, and left the mess. As he went out the First Lieutenant entered +with an apologetic mien which everyone appeared to recognise +instinctively. + +The Torpedo Lieutenant looked up from his book. "Oh, no, Number One, +spare us for just one morning. I've got a headache already from +listening to Bunje." + +The A.P. threw himself into an attitude of supplication. "Number One, +consider the awful consequences of your act before it's too late. +Consider what it means. If you make the wardroom untenable, I shall +have to sit in the office all the morning. I might even have to do +some work!" + +The First Lieutenant shook his head dourly. "The chipping party is +going to start in the wardroom this morning. Paint's inches thick on +the bulkheads, and a shell in here would start fires all over the +place. Bunje, if you want to write letters you'd better go somewhere +else and do it." + +The Indiarubber Man thumped the blotting-paper on his freshly written +sheets and looked up with his penholder between his teeth. "I've +finished, Number One. Admit your hired bravoes." + +As he spoke an ear-splitting fusillade of hammering commenced outside. +The steel bulkheads reverberated with blows that settled down to a +persistent rain of sound, deafening, nerve-shattering. + +"They've started outside," shouted the First Lieutenant. + +A general exodus ensued, and the Indiarubber Man gathered his writing +materials preparatory to departure. "I guessed they had," he was heard +to say. "I thought I heard a sound as it might have been someone +tapping on the bulkhead." + +The watchkeepers asleep on the settee stirred in their sleep, frowned, +and sank again into fathomless oblivion. + + * * * * * + +The Indiarubber Man entered the wardroom in company with the Paymaster +as the corporal of the ward-room servants was putting the finishing +touches to the dinner-table. They surveyed the apartment without +enthusiasm. + +"Considered as a banquet hall, I confess it does lack something," +observed the former. + +"There's a good deal of paint lacking from the bulkheads. Number One +has had a field day and a half." + +The other nodded. "In the words of the song: + + 'There's no carpet on the floor, + And no knocker on the door, + Oh, ours is a happy little home . . .' + +Phillips, bring me the menu, and let's see the messman has succeeded in +being funny without being vulgar." + +Corporal Phillips brought the menu with the air of one who connives at +a felony. "Messman says, sir, it ain't all 'e'd like it to be, what +with guests comin' and that. But I says to 'im, 'war is war,' I says, +'an' we can't expect eggs-on-meat _entrees_, same's if it was peace +time.'" + +"To-day's beautiful thought!" remarked the Indiarubber Man when the +corporal had withdrawn. "Really, Phillips has a knack of disclosing +great truths as if they were the lightest gossip." + +The Engineer Commander came in, glancing at the clock. "Five minutes +more and the _What Ho's_ will be here. Bunje, my lad, you were +responsible for this _entente_--have you any idea what we are going to +do with them after dinner?" + +"None," replied the Indiarubber Man; "none whatever. It will come to +me sudden-like. I might dress up as a bogey, and frighten you all--or +shall we try table-turning? Or we could dope their liquor and send +them all back insensible. Wouldn't that be true Oriental hospitality! +They'd wake up to-morrow morning under the impression that they'd had +the night of their lives." + +The members of the mess began to collect round the fireplace with the +funereal expressions customary whenever a mess-dinner is impending. + +"Which of the _What Ho's_ are coming?" + +"Where're they going to sit?" + +"Who asked them?" + +"Why?" + +"Are drinks going down to the mess?" + +And then the door opened and the guests arrived, smiling, a little shy, +as the naval officer is wont to be when he finds himself in a strange +mess. + +They were relieved of caps and cloaks, and, under the mellowing +influence of sherry and bitters, began to settle down. + +"Jolly good of you fellows to ask us to dinner," said the First +Lieutenant, an officer with a smiling cherubic visage and a choleric +blue eye. "We were getting a bit bored with our hooker. A fortnight +of looking for _Der Tag_ gets a bit wearisome. D'you think the devils +are ever coming out?" + +"We didn't want to ask you a bit, really," explained one of the hosts +(the advantage of having a chummy-ship is that you can insult them in +your own mess). "It's only a scheme of Bunje's for drinking +intoxicating liquor to excess at the expense of his messmates." + +The guests grinned sympathetically. As a matter of fact, most of the +company drank little else than water during those days of strain and +vigil. Frequent references to indulgence might, therefore, be regarded +as comic, in a sense. + +"We thought of bringing our own chairs," added one, "in case you'd +landed all your spare ones." + +"Yes," chimed in a third politely. "We didn't expect to find such a +wealth of furniture--it's like a Model Homes Exhibition. You should +see our mess!" + +The Gunnery Lieutenant made a gesture of deprecation. "The +watchkeepers insist on keeping the settee to caulk on in the intervals +of hogging in their cabins. The piano was retained for the benefit of +the Young Doctor. He can play _Die Wacht am Rhein_ with one +finger--can't you, Pills?" + +The Young Doctor beamed with simple pride. "My sister's German +governess taught me when I was a kid," he explained. "We have it every +night--it's the only tune I know." + +"The sideboard is to support the empty glasses of the bridge-players +after the Padre has put down one of his celebrated 'no-trumps' +hands--we had to keep the sideboard. The arm-chair is for Number One +to sit in and beat time while his funny party chip paint off the +bulkheads." The Gunnery Lieutenant looked round. "And so on, and so +on--oh, the gramophone? Bunje bu'st all the records except three, and +we're getting to know those rather well. But as you're a guest, old +thing, would you like 'Tipperary,' Tosti's 'Good-bye,' or 'A Little +Grey Home in the West'?" + +The corporal of the ward-room servants interrupted these amenities with +the announcement that dinner was ready, and a general move was made to +the table. + +Thereafter the conversation flowed evenly and generally. It was not +confined to war. The men who make war, either afloat or ashore, do not +talk about it over-much. There are others--even in this England of +ours--by tradition better qualified to do the talking, in that they see +most of the game. . . . On the whole, perhaps, more "shop" was +discussed than would have been the case in peace-time, but for the most +part it eddied round much the same subjects as Wardroom conversation +always does, with the Indiarubber Man's Puck-like humour and gay +mock-cynicism running through it like a whimsical pattern in an +otherwise conventional design. + +War had been their trade in theory from earliest youth. They were all +on nodding terms with Death. Indeed, most of the men round the long +table had looked him between the eyes already, and the obituary pages +in the Navy List had been a reminder, month by month, of others who had +looked there too--and blinked, and closed their eyes--shipmates and +fleetmates and familiar friends. + +War was the Real Thing, that was all. There was nothing about it to +obsess men's minds. You might say it was the manoeuvres of 19-- all +over again, with the chance of "bumping a mine" thrown in, and also the +glorious certainty of ultimately seeing a twelve-inch salvo pitch +exactly where the long years of preparation ordained that it should. + +A submarine specialist, whom the war caught doing exile in a "big +ship," dominated the conversation for a while with lamentations that he +was constrained to dwell in the Tents of Kedah. Two minutes of his +talk having nearly convinced everyone that the sole _raison d'etre_ of +the big ship was to be sunk by submarine attack, he and his theories +passed into a conversational siding. The watchkeepers exchanged mutual +condolences on the exasperating tactics of drift-net trawlers, notes on +atmospheric conditions prevalent in the North Sea, methods of removing +nocturnal cocoa-stains from the more vital portions of a chart, and +other matters of interest to watchkeepers. + +The Commander and the First Lieutenant of the _What Ho's_ discussed the +training of setters. The Young Doctor and his opposite number, and +those near them found interest in morphia syringes, ventilation of +distributing stations, and--a section of the talk whirling into a +curious backwater--the smell of cooking prevalent in the entrance halls +of Sheerness lodging-houses. . . . + +The dinner went its course: they drank, sitting (as was their privilege +and tradition), the King's health. Then the cigarettes went round, +chairs turned a little sideways, the port circulated a second time. +The conversation was no longer general. In pairs or by threes, +according to taste, temperament or individual calling, the members of +the mess and their guests settled down to a complacent enjoyment of the +most pleasant half-hour in a battleship's long day. + +Presently, while the bridge-table was being set out, the Indiarubber +Man rose from the table, and, crossing to the piano, began to vamp +lightly on the keys, humming under his breath. A chorus quickly +gathered round. A battered Naval Song Book was propped up on the +music-rest--more from habit than necessity, since the Indiarubber Man +could not read a note of music and everybody knew the words of the +time-honoured chanties. The pianist's repertoire was limited: half a +dozen ding-dong chords did duty as accompaniment to "Bantry Bay," "John +Peel," and "The Chinese Bumboatman" alike; but a dozen lusty voices +supplied melody enough, the singers packed like herrings round the +piano, leaning over each other's shoulders, and singing with all the +strength of their lungs. + +They exhausted the favourites at length, and the player wheeled round +on his stool. + +"What about one of the guests for a song?" + +"Yes, yes!" cried several voices. "Where's Number One? He's our +Madame Patti. You ought to hear him sing '_We don't serve bread with +one fish-ball!_' It's really worth it. But it takes a lot of port to +get him started. How d'you feel about it, Number One?" They spoke +with indulgent affection, as a nurse might persuade a bashful child to +show off before company. + +He of the choleric blue eye was still sitting at the table with one of +his hosts. He turned in his chair, smiling grimly. + +"What's that about me? I don't want to start scrapping in a strange +mess, Snatcher, but if you really _are_ looking for trouble----!" + +"Don't mind us!" shouted the Indiarubber Man delightedly. "We'll put +up a scrap for you in half a jiffy if you feel like a crumpled +shirt-front!" He looked round the mess. "Wait till Flags and the +Secretary come in from dinner with the Old Man, and we'll out the +gilded Staff. They're good 'uns to scrap." + +As he spoke the door opened, and the Flag Lieutenant came in, to be met +by a volley of greetings. + +"We of the cuddy," he began in a tone of mincing severity, "are not +pleased at the raucous uproar said to be coming from a mess of officers +and gentlemen. We are pained. We come to lend our presence to what +might otherwise develop into an unseemly brawl----" He helped himself +to a walnut out of a dish on the sideboard. "Here comes my colleague +the Secretary-bird. He, too, is more grieved than angry." + +The Secretary entered warily, and intending combatants girded their +loins for battle. + +"Pouf!" he exclaimed. "What a fug!" And elevated his nose with a +sniff. The Fiery Cross was out. + +"Out Staff!" said the Indiarubber Man in a low voice. "Dogs of war! +Out gilded popinjays!" + +With a promptitude that hinted at long experience of internecine +warfare, the newcomers embraced the first maxim of war: "If you must +hit, hit first, hit hard, and keep on hitting." + +Like a flash, the two members of the Personal Staff were on the +Indiarubber Man. A chair went crashing, a broken glass tinkled on to +the deck, to the accompaniment of protests from the Paymaster, and, +before the mess could join battle, the Indiarubber Man hurtled through +the doorway on to the aft-deck, to pitch at the feet of a delighted +Marine sentry. By the rules of the game, once through the portals of +the mess there was no return until a truce was declared. The younger +members of the mess rose to a man; for a moment the guests hung back. +It is not in the best of form to scrap in a strange mess, except by +express invitation. + +"Come on!" shouted the Junior Watchkeeper. "Bite 'em in the stomach!" +and flung himself upon the Secretary. + +The guests waited for no second invitation. It was a battle royal, and +the Indiarubber Man, interned on the aft-deck, yelped encouragement to +his erstwhile conquerors because they were fighting valiantly against +hopeless odds. + +A Rugby International and a middle-weight boxer of some pretensions, +although hampered by aiguilettes and outnumbered six to one, were not +easily disposed of. But they were ultimately overpowered, and carried, +puffing with exhaustion and helpless with laughter, over the debris of +the bridge-table, gramophone and paper-rack, out through the doorway. + +The mess, breathing heavily, adjusted its ties and collars and smoothed +its dishevelled hair. The Flag Lieutenant and Secretary retired to +their cabins for more extensive repairs. The bridge-table was set upon +its legs once more, the scattered cards collected. + +"Polo!" said the Indiarubber Man. "Let's play polo!" + +"How d'you do that?" asked one of the ecstatic guests. At the bottom +of his heart he was also wondering why the greybeards of the mess stood +all this tomfoolery without protest. He had never been shipmates with +the Indiarubber Man. + +The Indiarubber Man took an orange off the sideboard, a dessert-spoon +out of a drawer, and straddled over the back of a chair. "Like this, +d'you see? We generally play three a-side, but as there are six of you +we'll play double sides." He tossed the orange on to the deck, and +hopped his chair in pursuit, brandishing the dessert-spoon. + +"That's a great game," said the First Lieutenant of the _What Ho!_ and +got him to horse. "Come on, our side, boot and saddle!" + +As the game was about to start the door opened, and the Flag Lieutenant +entered hurriedly. He carried a signal-pad in his hand, and there was +that in his face that silenced the polo players and caused the bridge +players to lay down their hands. + +"Signal," he said curtly. "Raise steam for full speed. Prepare for +immediate action on leaving harbour." And was gone. + +Those who had immediate duties elsewhere stampeded out of the mess. +Overhead there was a thud of feet and ropes ends and the shrilling of +pipes as the watch fell in. A Midshipman thrust his head inside the +door of the Wardroom. "Boat's alongside, sir!" he said, and vanished. + +The First Lieutenant of the visitors flung his boat-cloak over his +shoulders. "Well," he said, "we've had a topping evening. S'long, and +thanks very much." + +Their hosts helped the departing ones into their great-coats. "Not 't +all," they murmured politely in return. "Sorry to break up a cheery +evening. Let's hope they've really come out this time!" + +The Indiarubber Man slid on to the music-stool again, put his foot on +the soft pedal, lightly touched the familiar chords, and began humming +under his breath: + + "We don't want to lose you---- + But we _think_ you ought to go . . ." + +There are many ways of saying _Moriturus te saluto_. + + + + +X + +THE HIGHER CLAIM + +1 + +All night long the wind, blowing in across the dunes from the North +Sea, had brought the sound of firing. + +At times it was hardly perceptible: a faint reverberation of the ether +that could scarcely be defined as sound; it would resolve itself into a +low, continuous rumble, very much like distant thunder, that died away +and recommenced nearer and more distinct. Then the sashes of the open +window trembled, and Margaret, who had lain awake all night, every +nerve strained to listen, leaned on one elbow to stare from her bed out +into the darkness. + +She had tried not to listen. For hours she had lain without moving, +with limbs tense beneath the coverings, the palms of her hands pressed +against her ears. But imagination sped through the dark passages of +her mind, brandishing a torch, compelling her at length to listen again. + +She had no very clear idea, of course, what a naval action was like. A +confused recollection of pictures seen in childhood only suggested +stalwart men, stripped to the waist and bare-footed, working round the +smoking guns of ships whose decks blazed up in flame to taunt the quiet +heavens; while the ships' scuppers ran red. + +Modern naval warfare could be nothing like that, though. + +She had only seen the results of modern warfare. Men tortured till +they came near to forgetting their manhood; burnt, deaf, scalded, torn +by splinters, blinded; she had seen them smiling under circumstances +that thrilled her to feel they shared a common Flag. + +On the outbreak of war the training institute on the East Coast, of +which Margaret was the matron, had, on account of its position near the +coast and other advantages, been converted into a Naval Hospital. Miss +Dacre, the principal, Margaret, and a few others who had already +qualified in nursing, were retained as Red Cross sisters, and it was +not long before the classrooms and dormitories were occupied by very +different inmates from those for whom they were intended. Only the +more serious cases reached these wards. The less dangerously hurt +passed by rail or hospital ship to the base hospitals in the South. + +All night long the wounded men in the long wards stirred fretfully +under the white counterpanes, each man translating the sounds according +to his own imagination or experience. The night-sisters moved softly +to and fro on the beeswaxed boards, smoothing tumbled pillows, +adjusting a splint or a bandage, calming the bearded children who +fretted because they were hopelessly "out of it." + +Towards the dawn the sounds of firing gradually grew fainter, and died +away as the first pale bands of light appeared in the east. The +sparrows under the eaves stirred and commenced a sleepy twittering. +Margaret rose as soon as objects in her room were discernible, bathed +her face and hands in cold water, and stood awhile at the window +watching the day growing over the sea and sombre sky. + +The sounds of the battle that passed away to the northward had shaken +her nerves as had nothing else in all her experience. Standing there +by the open window, drinking in the indescribable freshness of the +dawn, she despised herself. She, who had devoted her life to a +Purpose, should be above the petty weakness of her sex. Yet the cold +fear that had been her bedfellow throughout the night, and was +concerned with neither defeat nor victory, haunted her still. + +She closed the window, lit a small spirit-lamp on a side table, and, +while the kettle boiled, dressed in riding things. The earliness of +the hour made it improbable that she would meet a soul, and yet she +dressed carefully, coiling her soft hair, with its silver threads, on +the nape of her neck, fastidiously dusting riding boots, and giving a +brisk rub to the single spur before she strapped it on. She was +adjusting her hard-felt hat before the glass when someone knocked at +the door. + +She turned questioningly, with hands still raised. "Come in!" + +A girl was standing in the doorway; she wore a dressing-gown, and +beneath it her slim ankles peeped out of a pair of the felt slippers +nurses wear at night. + +"Betty! What's the matter?" + +"Did you hear the firing?" + +Margaret nodded. Was the betrayal of her nerves infectious? Had it +communicated itself to the whole staff? For a swift instant she +despised her sex--she who had devoted her life to it. "Yes. Another +big engagement. We shall be busy. I was going to ride down to the +cliffs to see. . . . What's the matter, Betty--can't you sleep? Come +in and shut the door; I'll give you a cup of tea." She spoke in her +accustomed quiet tone, and crossed to the side table, where the kettle +was giving out little fitful puffs of steam. + +Betty closed the door and sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands in +the side pockets of her dressing-gown. Her hair was plaited loosely in +two long plaits, one of which hung down over her shoulder and somehow +gave her face an added effect of extreme youth. + +Margaret handed her a cup of tea. "Drink that and run back to bed. +No--hop into mine and keep warm. Haven't you slept?" + +Betty drank the tea and drew the dressing-gown closer round her young +form. "I couldn't sleep. The firing . . . No, I'm quite warm, +thanks. But it got on my nerves lying there waiting for it to get +light. I heard you moving, and I got up." She passed her hand over +her eyes. "After the last time I kept seeing those poor things. . . . +I don't mind once we start--I don't mind the operating-table. It's +when they come in . . . like dumb things--trying to smile, with their +mouths all screwed up and tight." She caught her breath half +hysterically. + +Margaret put down her cup quickly and sat down by the girl's side. +"Betty! Don't talk like that. You mustn't think about it in that way. +Listen----" + +"It's easy to be calm when you haven't any--anybody out there in the +North Sea belonging to you. But I've got a brother and a--and he's a +Gunnery Lieutenant," ended Betty a little feebly. + +"I know, dear. But you mustn't go to pieces when we all want every bit +of pluck and steadiness. We're getting used to it now, too--and I'm +sure your brother would like to think you were being as brave as--as +he. . . ." She turned her head and stared out of the window. Was she +a hypocrite, she wondered, to try to preach to anyone the virtue of +womanly courage when her own heart was sick with she knew not what? + +Betty stood up. "I'm a fool," she said abruptly. "Can I come with +you? Could you wait ten minutes while I put my riding things on? Miss +Dacre said I could take her horse when I wanted to--will you wait for +me, Margaret? I'll ride down to the sea with you." + +Margaret nodded and rose, too. "I'll get the horses saddled while you +dress. . . . Bring some biscuits." + +She descended the broad oak stairway, crossed the hall, and opened the +door of a little room adjoining the main entrance. It was her day +sanctum--in scholastic days, the matron's sitting-room, a small +apartment, with pretty chintz-covered furniture, and roses in bowls on +the table and bookstands. Margaret unhooked a pair of field-glasses +hanging on the wall, and passed out into the early morning sunlight. + +Betty joined her ten minutes later in the stables, and together they +mounted and rode down the long avenue, bordered by firs, out on to the +open wold that commanded a view of the sea. + +With the dewy turf under them, they shook their impatient horses into a +canter until they reached the highest point of a bluff promontory that +stretched out into the sea. Here they reined in and scanned the +horizon, side by side. + +The water was leaden-coloured, shot with coppery gleams. Below them to +the northward the little harbour of the fishing village was stirring to +life: wisps of smoke, curling from a score of chimneys, blended with +the mists of early morning. Small specks that were people began to +move about an arm of the breakwater, towards which a dinghy came +stealing sluggishly from one of the anchored fishing craft. + +Without speaking, Betty abruptly raised her whip and pointed towards +the north. A Torpedo Boat Destroyer was approaching the entrance to +the harbour, her funnels jagged with shot-holes pouring out smoke. In +silence Margaret handed the glasses to her companion. On the far +horizon there were faint columns of smoke north and east. Some were +smudges that dissolved and faded to nothing; others grew darker, and +presently resolved themselves into distant cruisers passing rapidly +south. Margaret's horse lowered his head and began cropping the short +grass. + +"Margaret," said Betty suddenly, "did you ever care for anybody--a man, +I mean?" To Betty's mind the thirty-five years that sat so lightly on +Margaret's brow relegated such a possibility, if it ever happened, to a +past infinitely remote. For a moment there was no reply. + +Margaret stretched out her hand for the glasses, and focused them on +the horizon. + +"Yes," she said at length, quietly. The Destroyer was entering the +harbour; faint confused sounds of cheering drifted up to them. + +"Why didn't you marry him? Did you send him away?" + +Again a pause, and again came the low-voiced affirmative. Margaret +lowered the glasses and returned them to the case slung across her +shoulder. "I thought I was doing right. . . . But I was wrong." The +night had not been without its lesson. "He's out there." She nodded +towards the North Sea, and as she spoke the blunt bows of a hospital +ship crept round a distant headland, making towards them. Silence tell +between them again. + +Margaret broke it. "Betty," she said, "if the time ever comes for you +to choose between the love of the man you love and--and anything else +in the wide world, don't be misled by other claims . . . by what may +seem to be higher claims. Loving and being loved are the highest +responsibilities that life holds." + +Betty turned her head and stared. "But," she said, "if you think duty +doesn't give you the right to----" + +"Love gives you all the right a woman wants," replied Margaret, still +in the same low, sad tone. "If it's only the right to cry. . . . If +you forego love, you forego even that." She gathered the reins and +turned her horse. "Now we must get back to bath and dress. There's a +lot of work ahead of us." + +Neither spoke again as they rode back across the downs. In the filmy +blue overhead a lark sang rapturously, pouring out its soul in gladness. + + * * * * * + +Margaret was in the hall when the first of the long line of +stretcher-bearers arrived. As each stretcher was brought in, a surgeon +made a brief examination of the wounded man, and he passed through one +or other of the wide doorways opening out on either side of the hall. +There was a subdued murmur of voices as every moment brought a fresh +arrival. Two blue-jackets, who came up the steps carrying a hooded +stretcher, stood looking about them as if for orders. The surgeons +were all occupied, but, catching sight of Margaret in uniform, with the +broad red cross on her breast, the blue-jackets crossed the hall +towards her and laid the stretcher at her feet, as if they had brought +their burden all this way for her alone. + +"Second door on the left," said Margaret. "Wait--is it a bad case?" + +"Too late, I'm afraid, Sister," said the stalwart at the head of the +stretcher. "'E's died on the way up." + +"'Emmerage, Sister," supplemented the other, anxious to display his +familiarity with the technicalities of her profession. "'E wouldn't +take 'is turn to be attended to aboard of us--we was in a Destroyer, +an' picked 'im up 'angin' on to a spar. Would 'ave the doctor fix up a +German prisoner wot was bleedin' to death. Said 'e wasn't in no +particular 'urry, speakin' for 'isself. An' 'im a-bleedin' to death, +too. As fine a gentleman as ever stepped." + +The other nodded, warming, sailor-like, to the hero-worship of an +officer. "That's right, Sister. 'E give 'is life for one of them +Germans, you might say." + +"Is he dead?" asked Margaret in her clear, incisive tones. + +"Yes, Sister." The speaker knelt down and turned back the hood, +uncovering the face and shoulders of the motionless figure on the +stretcher. + +For a moment a feeling of giddiness seized Margaret. A great blackness +seemed to close round her, shutting out the busy scene, the voices of +the bearers, and the shuffle of their feet across the tiled hall. With +a supreme effort she mastered herself, and somehow knew she had been +waiting for this moment, expecting it. . . . + +The man who had been kneeling rose to his feet, and the two stood +before her as if awaiting orders. Outside the entrance a motor +ambulance arrived and drew up with throbbing engine. + +"The mortuary----" she began. "No--bring him here . . . out of all +this." She walked across the hall and opened the door of the small +room on the left of the entrance. The scent of roses greeted them: it +was the room from which she had fetched her glasses early in the +morning. + +The two men deposited the stretcher on the floor and came out, glancing +at her white face as they passed. "Shall we carry on, Sister?" + +"What? . . . Oh, yes, please." + +They saluted awkwardly, and left her standing irresolute, as if dazed, +in the midst of all the bustle and traffic of suffering. + +He had come back to her. Torps, who in life had never broken his word, +was also faithful to it in death. + + + +2 + +The journey across the lawn to one of the seats in the shelter of the +clipped hedge of evergreens was accomplished at length. + +The Indiarubber Man lowered himself with a little grimace into the +seat, and laid the crutches down beside him. One leg, encased in +splints and bandages, was stiffly outstretched on a stool in front of +him; his uniform cap--a very disreputable one, with a tarnished +badge--was perched on top of the bandages that still swathed his head. + +"Phew!" he said; "thank you. That was a bit of a Marathon, wasn't it?" +He measured the distance across the lawn with a humorous eye. + +"It was very good for a first attempt," said Betty, considering him +professionally. "Is that leg comfortable?" + +"Quite, thank you." He leaned back and closed his eyes with a +luxurious sigh. "'Pon my word, this is what I call cutting it pretty +fat. Fancy my lolling here in the sun, and you . . . and you----" he +opened his eyes, regarding her as she stood before him in her trim, +nurse's uniform. "It's quite like a play, isn't it, where everything +comes right in the end? Miss Betty----" + +"You mustn't call me that," said Betty primly. "I told you before. +You must say 'Nurse.'" + +"Can't I say 'Nurse Betty'?" + +"My name is Elizabeth. If you wanted to distinguish me from other +nurses you might conceivably say 'Nurse Elizabeth.' But even that's +not necessary, as I'm the only nurse here at the moment." + +The Indiarubber Man looked cautiously round the sunlit enclosure. +"True. So you are----" + +"And it's time for your beef-tea," added Betty severely, marching off +in the direction of the distant wing. + +Her patient watched her slim form retreating and vanish down a green +alley. "You dear," he said, "you dear!" He meditated awhile. "It's a +rum world," he soliloquised. "Torps has gone. The Young Doc.'s gone. +The Pay's gone." + +He mused awhile. "But we gave 'em an almighty hammering. And here am +I, alive and kicking again. And there's Betty. . . . It's a rum +world." He bent forward and gathered a daisy growing in the border +beside his seat. With his bleached, rather unsteady, fingers, he began +picking the petals from it one by one. + +"She does, she doesn't. She does, she doesn't. She doesn't," repeated +the Indiarubber Man in a woeful voice. + +A thrush hopped across the lawn, and paused to regard him with one +bright eye. Apparently reassured, it deftly secured and swallowed a +worm. + +The Indiarubber Man laughed. "Doesn't anybody love you either?" he +said. + +Betty reappeared in the distance carrying a tray in her hands. The +thrush, as if realising that two is company and three none, flew away. + +Betty handed a cup to the invalid. "There's a piece of toast too--you +must soak it in the beef-tea, and here is a little bell. If you want +anything, or you aren't comfortable, you can ring it." + +"I see." The Indiarubber Man gravely accepted all three gifts and laid +them on the seat beside him. "Thank you awfully. But you aren't going +away, are you?" + +"Of course I am," said Betty. "I'm very busy. You _must_ remember +that this is a hospital, that you're a patient and I'm a nurse." She +moved off sedately. + +"Miss Betty!" called the Indiarubber Man. "I mean 'Nurse.'" Betty +turned and retraced her footsteps. "Wouldn't it be awful if I was +suddenly taken very ill indeed--if I came over all of a tremble, and +tried to ring the toast and soaked the bell in my beef-tea?" + +"From what I've seen of you during the last six weeks," replied Betty +the Hospital Nurse, "such a thing wouldn't surprise me a little bit." +She left him to his graceless self. + +For a while after she had gone the Indiarubber Man tried to read a +book. Tiring of that, he lit a pipe and smoked it without enthusiasm. +Tobacco tasted oddly flavourless and unfamiliar. Then he remembered +his beef-tea and drank it obediently, soaking the toast as he had been +bidden. Remained the bell. For a long time he sat staring at it. + +"Much better get it over," he said aloud. "One way or the other." + +Cautiously he looked round. No one was in sight; the windows at the +back of the hospital that overlooked this secluded lawn had been the +windows of class-rooms, and were of frosted glass. With the aid of his +crutches he got up unsteadily, and then, maintaining a precarious +balance with one crutch, he thrust the other one under the seat +leverwise, and with an effort tipped it over backwards on to the +flowerbed. + +This accomplished, the Indiarubber Man looked round again to convince +himself that the manoeuvre was unobserved. Reassured on this point, he +lowered himself down gingerly over the seat until he was lying on his +back with his legs in the air and his head in a clump of marigolds. In +this attitude he seized the bell and rang it furiously, feebly waving +his uninjured leg the while. + +The moments passed. From his prostrate position behind the seat he was +unable to obtain a view of the lawn, and stopped ringing the bell to +listen. He heard a faint cry in the distance, and then the flutter of +skirts. The next instant Betty was bending over him, white and +breathless. + +"Oh!" she cried, "how _did_ it happen? Did the seat tip over +backwards--are you hurt?" and kneeling beside him raised his unhallowed +head. The Indiarubber Man closed his eyes. + +"You told me to ring if I wasn't comfortable, and I wasn't a bit. I +hate the smell of marigolds too. No--please don't move; I'm very +comfortable now." Betty looked wildly in the direction of the house +for help. + +"I heard the bell," she said in a queer, breathless little voice, "and +I just came out to look . . . and then I ran. I ought to have called +someone. Ring the bell--I can't move you by myself. We must have +assistance. How _did_ this happen?" + +The Indiarubber Man opened his eyes. "The seat tipped over backwards." + +"But _how_?" + +"It--it just tipped--as it were." + +"Will you promise to lie still for one minute while I run for help--are +you in pain?" + +"No. As a matter of fact, I wanted to ask you a question." + +"What?" asked Betty, reaching for the bell with her disengaged hand. + +"Betty, will you marry me?" + +The Indiarubber Man's bandaged head was deposited once more among the +marigolds. Betty rose to her feet, astonishment and indignation +joining forces to overcome laughter within her. The resultant of all +three was something suspiciously like tears. + +"_What_? Oh, I do believe--I don't believe it was an accident at +all----" + +"Will you, Betty?" queried the Indiarubber Man from the depths of the +marigolds. + +Voices sounded beyond the yews. A white-coated orderly appeared in the +distance, stood a moment in astonishment, and came running across the +grass towards them. + +"Quick! There's someone coming. I swear I won't be budged till you +answer." + +The orderly arrived panting. "What's up, miss, an accident?" + +"Oh," gasped Betty. "Yes!" + +The Indiarubber Man suffered himself to be moved. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALL SHIP*** + + +******* This file should be named 25749.txt or 25749.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/7/4/25749 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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