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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/25921-8.txt b/25921-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4b2563e --- /dev/null +++ b/25921-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7815 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Long Trick, by 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: The Long Trick + + +Author: Lewis Anselm da Costa Ritchie + + + +Release Date: June 28, 2008 [eBook #25921] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LONG TRICK*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Transcriber's note: + + "Bartimeus" is the pseudonym of Captain Lewis Anselm da Costa + Ritchie, R.N. + + + + + +THE LONG TRICK + +by + +"BARTIMEUS" + +Author of "A Tall Ship," "Naval Occasions," etc. + + + + + + + + "Much of what you have done, as far as the public eye + is concerned, may almost be said to have been done in + the twilight."--_Extract from address delivered by the Prime + Minister on board the Fleet Flagship, Aug._, 1915. + + + + +Cassell and Company, Ltd +London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne + +First Published. October 1917. +Reprinted (Twice) October 1917, November 1917. + + + + + TO + one + CHUNKS + Who, in moments of frenzy, is called + HUNKS + and answers readily to + TUNKS, TINKS or TONKS, + This Book + is + INSCRIBED + + + + +FOREWORD + + +DEAR N AND M, + +This is the first opportunity I have had of answering your letter, +although I am hardly to blame since you chose to write anonymously and +leave me with no better clue to your address than the Tunbridge Wells +postmark. + +Fee! Fi! Fo! Fum! I am sorry about Torps, though. I admit his +death was a mistake, and I fancy my Publisher thought so too: but we +cannot very well bring him to life again, like Sherlock Holmes. So +please cheer up, and remember that there are just as many fine fellows +in the ink-pot as ever came out of it. + +I have borne in mind the final paragraph of your letter, which said, +"We do beseech you not to kill the India-rubber Man." In fact, I +originally meant him to be the hero of this book. But as the book +progressed I found the melancholy conviction growing on me that the +India-rubber Man had become infernally dull. A pair of cynical +bachelors like you will, I know, attribute this to marriage and poor +Betty. For my part I am inclined to put it down to advancing years. + +I have just finished the book, and, turning over the pages, found +myself wondering how you will like it. It has been written in so many +different moods and places and noises and temperatures that the general +effect is rather patchwork. But, after all, it was written chiefly for +the amusement of two people, and (as I believe all story-books ought to +be written) out of some curiosity on the Author's part to know "what +happened next." + +Thus, you see, I strive to disarm all critics at the outset by the +assumption of an ingenuous indifference to anything they can say. But +there is one portion of the book on which I have expended so much +thought and care that I am willing to defy criticism on the subject. I +refer to the Dedication. + +You probably skip Dedications, but they interest me, and I have studied +them a good deal. They are generally arranged in columns like untidy +addition sums, and no two lines are the same length. This is very +important. At the end you arrive, as it were by a series of +stepping-stones, at the climax. And there you are. + +No. Let the critics say what they will about the book: but I hold that +the Dedication is It. + +Yours sincerely, + +"Bartimeus" + + +_October_, 1917. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +FOREWORD + +CHAPTER + + 1. BACK FROM THE LAND + 2. THE "NAVY SPECIAL" + 3. ULTIMA THULE + 4. WAR BABIES + 5. UNCLE BILL + 6. WET BOBS + 7. CARRYING ON + 8. "ARMA VIRUMQUE..." + 9. "SWEETHEARTS AND WIVES" + 10. THE BATTLE OF THE MIST + 11. THE AFTERMATH + 12. "GOOD HUNTING" + 13. SPELL-O! + 14. INTO THE WAY OF PEACE + + + + + NOTE + + The Chapters headed "Wet Bobs" and + "Carrying On" appeared originally in + Blackwood's Magazine and are included in + the book by kind permission of the Editor. + + + + +THE LONG TRICK + + +CHAPTER I + +BACK FROM THE LAND + +Towards eight o'clock the fog that had hung threateningly over the City +all the afternoon descended like a pall. + +It was a mild evening in February, and inside the huge echoing vault of +King's Cross station the shaded arc lamps threw little pools of light +along the departure platform where the Highland Express stood. The +blinds of the carriage windows were already drawn, but here and there a +circle of subdued light strayed out and was engulfed almost at once by +the murky darkness. Sounds out of the unseen reached the ear muffled and +confused: a motor horn hooted near the entrance, and quite close at hand +a horse's hoofs clattered and rang on the cobbled paving-stones. The +persistent hiss of escaping steam at the far end of the station seemed to +fill the air until it was presently drowned by the ear-piercing screech +of an engine: high up in the darkness ahead one of a bright cluster of +red lights holding their own against the fog, changed to green. The +whistle stopped abruptly, and the voice of a boy, passing along the +crowded platform, claimed all Sound for its own. + +"_Chor-or-or-clicks!_" he cried in a not unmusical jodelling treble, +"_Chorclicks!--Cigarettes!_" + +The platform was thronged by bluejackets and marines, for on this +particular evening the period of leave, granted by some battleship in the +North, had expired. They streamed out of refreshment rooms and entrance +halls, their faces lit for a moment as they passed under successive arc +lights, crowding round the carriage doors where their friends and +relations gathered in leave-taking. Most of them carried little bundles +tied up in black silk handkerchiefs and paper parcels whose elusive +contents usually appeared to take a leguminous form, and something of the +traditional romance of their calling came with them out of the blackness +of that February night. It was reflected in the upturned admiring faces +of their women-folk, and acknowledged by some of the younger men +themselves, with the adoption of an air of studied recklessness. + +Some wore the head-gear of enraptured civilian acquaintances and sang in +undertones of unrequited love. Others stopped in one of the friendly +circles of light to pass round bottled beer, until an elderly female, +bearing tracts, scattered them into the shadows. They left her standing, +slightly bewildered, with the empty bottle in her hands. She had the +air, for all the world, of a member of the audience suddenly abandoned on +a conjurer's stage. + +In the shelter of one of the great pillars that rose up into the darkness +a bearded light o' love stopped and emptied his pockets of their silver +and coppers into the hands of the human derelict that had been his +companion through the past week. "'Ere you are, Sally," he said, "take +what's left. You ain't 'arf been a bad ole sort, mate," and kissed her +and turned away as she slipped back into the night where she belonged. + +Farther along in the crowd an Ordinary Seaman, tall and debonair and +sleek of hair, bade osculatory farewell to a mother, an aunt, a fiancée +and two sisters. + +"'Ere," finally interrupted his chum, "'ere, Alf, where do I come in?" + +"You carry on an' kiss Auntie," replied his friend, and applied himself +to his fiancée's pretty upturned mouth. This the chum promptly did, +following up the coup, amid hysterical laughter and face-slapping, by +swiftly embracing the mother and sisters. + +"You sailors!" said the friend's mother delightedly, straightening her +hat. + +"Don Jewans, all of 'em," confirmed the aunt, recovering the power of +speech of which a temporary displacement of false teeth had robbed her. +"Glad there wasn't no sailors down our way when I was a girl, or I +shouldn't be 'ere now." A sally greeted by renewed merriment. + +Indifferent to the laughter and horse-play near them a grave-faced Petty +Officer stood by the door of his carriage saying good-bye to his wife and +children before returning to another nine months' exile. A little boy in +a sailor-suit clung to the woman's skirt and gazed admiringly into the +face of the man he had been taught to call "Daddie"--the jovial visitor +who came to stay with them for a week once a year or so, after whose +departure his mother always cried so bitterly, writer of the letters she +pressed against her cheek and locked away in the yellow tin box under the +bed.... + +She held another child in her arms--a wide-eyed mite that stared up into +the murk overhead with preternatural solemnity. Their talk, of an +inarticulate simplicity, is no concern of ours. The little group has +been recorded because of the woman. Mechanically rocking the child in +her arms, with her neat clothes and brave little bits of finery, with, +above all, her anxious, pathetic smile as she looked up into the face of +her man, she stood there for a symbol of all that the warring Navy +demands of its women-folk. + +Beyond them, where the first-class carriages and sleeping saloons began, +the platform became quieter and less crowded. Several Naval and one or +two Military officers walked to and fro, or stood at the doors of their +compartments superintending the stowage of their luggage; a little way +back from the light thrown from the carriage windows, two figures, a man +and a girl, stood talking in low voices. + +Presently the man stepped under one of the overhanging lamps and +consulted his wristwatch. The light of the arc-lamp, falling on the +shoulder-straps of his uniform great-coat, indicated his rank, which was +that of Lieutenant-Commander. + +"We've got five minutes more," he said. + +The girl nodded. + +"I know. I've been ticking off the minutes for the last week--in my +head, I mean." She smiled, a rather wan little smile. Her companion +slipped his arm inside hers, and together they walked towards the train. + +"Come and look at my cabin, Betty, and--let's see everything's there." + +He helped her into the corridor, and, following, encountered the +uniformed attendant. The man held a notebook in his hand. + +"Are you Mr. Standish, sir?" he inquired, consulting his notebook. + +"That's my name as a rule," was the reply. "At the moment though, it's +Mud--spelt M-U-D. Which is my abode?" + +"This way, sir." The attendant led the way along the corridor and pushed +open the door of the narrow sleeping compartment. "Here you are, sir." +He eyed the officer's companion with a professionally reassuring air, as +much as to say, "He'll be all right in there, don't you worry." It +certainly looked very snug and comfortable with the shaded light above +the neat bunk and dark upholstery. + +"Ah," said the traveller, "we just wanted to--er--see everything was all +right." + +"Quite so, sir. Plenty of time--lady not travelling, I presume? I'll +come along when we're due to start and let you know." He closed the door +with unobtrusive tact. + +The lady in question surveyed the apartment with the tender scrutiny of a +mother about to relinquish her offspring to the rough usage of an +unfamiliar world. + +"Bunje, darling," she said, and bent and brushed the pillow with her +lips. "That's so that you'll sleep tight and not let the bogies bite." +She smiled into her husband's eyes rather tremulously. "And take care of +yourself as hard as ever you can. Remember your leg and your poor old +head." His cap lay on the bunk, and she raised a slender forefinger to +trace the outline of the shiny scar above his temple. "I've mended you +so nicely." + +"I'll take care of myself all right, and you won't cry, will you, Betty, +when I've gone? Promise--say: 'Sure-as-I'm-standing-here-I-won't-cry,' +or I'll call the guard!" + +"I--I can't promise not to cry a tiny bit," faltered Betty, "but I +promise to try not to cry much. And you will write and let me know when +I can come North and be near you, won't you?" A sudden thought struck +her. "Bunje, will they censor your letters? How awful! And mine too? +Because I don't think I could bear it if anybody but you read my letters." + +"No, they won't read 'em," reassured her husband. "At least, not yours. +And if mine have to be read, the fellow who reads 'em just skims through +'em and doesn't really take in anything. I've had to do it, an' I know." + +"Still, I'll hate it," said Betty woefully, and started at a light tap at +the door. "Passengers are taking their seats, sir," said the warning +voice outside. + +Doors were banging and farewells sounding down the length of the train +when Betty stepped out on to the platform. A curly-headed subaltern of a +Highland regiment who had been in possession of the door surrendered it, +and, catching a glimpse of Betty's face, returned to his compartment +thanking all his Gods that he was a bachelor. A whistle sounded out of +the gloom at the far end of the long train, and a green light waved above +the heads of the leave-takers. A faltering cheer broke out, gathered +volume, and, as the couplings tautened with a jerk, came an answering +roar from the closely packed carriages. + +Standish bent down. "Good-bye, Bet----" and for a moment lips and +fingers met and clung. The train was moving slowly. + +"God bless you!" she said with a queer little gasp, and stepped back into +one of the circles of subdued light. + +For a few seconds he saw her thus, a slim, girlish, fur-clad figure +standing with her hands at her side like a schoolgirl in class, her face +rather white and her lips compressed: then a bend hid her and the tumult +of cheering and farewell died. + +"Good on you, little girl," he muttered, and withdrew his head and +shoulders to fumble fiercely for his pipe. Courage in the woman he loves +will move a man as never will her tears. There is also gratitude in his +heart. + +He retraced his steps to his sleeping-compartment and was aware of the +faint fragrance of violets still lingering in the air. She had been +wearing some that he had bought her late that afternoon.... + +He sat down on the bunk and fervently pressed the tobacco into the bowl +of his pipe with his thumb. "Oh, damn-a-horse!" he said. For a moment +he sat thus sucking his unlit pipe and staring hard at the carpet, and +not until it sounded a second time did a knock at the door of the +compartment cause him to raise his head and say, "Come in!" + +The door opened, and a clean-shaven, smiling countenance, followed by a +pair of broad shoulders, appeared cautiously in the opening. Standish +stared at the apparition, and then rose with a grin of welcome. + +"Why!" he said, "Podgie, of all people! Come in, you old blighter!" + +The visitor entered. "How goes it, Bunje?" he said. "I saw you with +your missus just now, so I hid--I'm in the next cabin." He indicated the +adjoining compartment with a nod. + +"Sit down, old lad. What are you doing here? I thought----" The +speaker broke off abruptly, and his glance strayed involuntarily to the +ground. The new-comer nodded, and, sitting down on the bunk, pushed his +cap back from his forehead. + +"That's right." He extended his left leg. "Cork foot. What d'you go on +it, Bunje, eh?" They contemplated the acquisition in silence for a +moment. "I was in a destroyer, you know," pursued the speaker, "and one +of Fritz's shore batteries on the Belgian coast got our range by mistake +one day at dawn. Dusted us down properly." He extended his leg again. +"Hence the milk in the coco-nut, as you might say. However, we had a +makee-learn doctor on board--Surgeon-Probationer, straight out of the +egg, and no end of a smart lad: he dished me up in fine style. I went to +hospital for a bit, and they gave me six months' full-pay sick leave--not +a bad old firm, the Admiralty." + +"What then," asked the other, "invalided?" + +The visitor nodded. "But about a month ago I fell-in and said I couldn't +kick my heels any longer. Hadn't two to kick, in point of fact!" He +laughed softly at the grim jest. "So they lushed me up to this outfit, +and gave me a job as King's Messenger. I'm carrying despatches between +the Admiralty and the Fleet Flagship. Better'n doing nothing," he added +half-apologetically. + +"Quite," agreed Standish gravely: none knew better than he how beloved +had been the career thus abruptly terminated. He wondered, as he met the +speaker's smiling eyes with a sympathetic grin, whether he himself could +have carried it off like this. "But it was rotten luck--I'm----" + +The King's Messenger rose. "I've got a drop of whisky somewhere in my +bag," he interrupted. "Come along in there: I can't leave my +despatches--we'll have a yarn." + +He limped through the doorway, steadying himself with his hands against +the rocking of the train. Standish followed. Never again, he reflected, +would he follow those broad shoulders in a U.S. "Forward rush" to the +familiar slogan of "_Feet--forwards--feet!_" + +"You were wounded, too, last spring, weren't you?" queried the King's +Messenger, burrowing in his suit case for his flask. "Squat down at the +end there--got your glass?" He measured out two portions of whisky and +from the rack produced a bottle of soda. "Say when..." + +Standish nodded. "Thanks--whoa! Yes, I got a couple of 'cushy' wounds +and three months' leave." + +The other turned, helping himself to soda-water. "Lor', yes, and you got +spliced, too, Bunje!" He contemplated the Benedict over the rim of his +tumbler with the whimsical faint curiosity with which the bachelor Naval +Officer regards one of his brethren who has passed beyond the Veil. + +"Yes." For a moment Standish assumed a thoughtful expression. Then he +looked up, smiling. "What about you, Podgie? Isn't it about time you +toed the line?" + +The King's Messenger shook his head. "No. It doesn't come my way." His +eyes rested contemplatively on his outstretched leg. "Not very likely to +either.... How d'you like the idea of joining up with the 'Great Silent' +again after the flesh-pots and whatnot?" + +For the second time he had changed the conversation almost abruptly. + +Standish lit his pipe. "What's it like up there now?" He jerked his +head in the direction in which they were travelling. "How are they +sticking it? Have you been up lately? I haven't been in the Grand Fleet +yet." + +"Yes, I was up--let's see, last week. Oh, they're all right. A bit +bored, of course, but full of ginger. They go out and try to coax Fritz +to come out and play from time to time. Fritz says 'Not in these +trousers, I don't think,' and then they go home again, dodging 'tin +fish'[1] and raking up Fritz's 'warts'[2] out of the Swept Channels. +Talking of 'warts' reminds me of a yarn going round last time I was +up--it's a chestnut now, but you may not have heard it. One of the +mine-layers nipped down in a fog and laid a mine-field off the mouth of +the Ems. It was a tricky bit of work, and it seems to have touched up +the Padre's nerves a bit, because on the way back next morning, when he +was reading prayers--you know the bit about 'encompassed the waters with +bounds'?--he said, 'Encompassed the bounders with warts,' which was just +what they had done, pretty effectively!" + +The door to the corridor was half-open, and a tall figure in Naval +uniform who was passing at that moment glanced in, hesitated, and filled +the doorway with his bulk. A slow smile spread over his face and showed +his white, even teeth. It was a very infectious grin. + +"How goes it, Podgie?" he said quietly. + +The King's Messenger looked up. "Hallo!" he retorted. Then came +recognition. "Thorogood, surely! Come in, old lad. What are you doing +aboard the lugger-- D'you know Standish?" + +The new-comer nodded a greeting, acknowledging the introduction. + +"Station-mates in the East Indies, weren't we?" said Standish. + +"That's right," replied the other. "I remember you: we were both in camp +together--way back in the 'Naughty Naughts.' We used to call you the +India-rubber Man--Bunje for short." + +Standish laughed. "They do still," he said, "mine own familiar friends." + +"Have a drop of whisky," interrupted the King's Messenger. "'Fraid I +haven't got a glass----" + +The visitor hesitated. "Well, I've got old Mouldy Jakes in my +compartment. Can I bring him along: the old thing may get lonely. He +was in your term in the _Britannia_, wasn't he?" + +"He was. Fetch him along," said the King's Messenger. "Standish wants +to know all about life in the Grand Fleet. You two ought to be able to +enlighten him a bit between you." + +Thorogood contemplated the India-rubber Man thoughtfully. + +"Just joining up? Mouldy and I have been there since January, '15--I'll +fetch him." + +The speaker vanished and returned a moment later with a companion who +wore a Lieutenant's uniform, and carried a tooth-glass in his hand. His +lean, rather sallow face relaxed for an instant into a smile during the +process of introduction, and then resumed a mask-like gravity. He +up-ended a suit-case, sat down and silently eyed the others in turn. + +"What have you two been doing?" asked the King's Messenger. "Been on +leave?" + +"Yes," replied Thorogood. "I met Mouldy this morning, and we had a day +in town together." + +"Brave man! I should be sorry to have had such a responsibility. What +did you do?" + +"Well, we lunched with my Uncle Bill at his club----" + +"That was nice for Uncle Bill--what then?" + +"Uncle Bill had to go to the Admiralty, so I took Mouldy for a walk in +St. James's Park"--the speaker contemplated his friend sorrowfully--"and +I lost him." + +The King's Messenger laughed. "What happened to you, Mouldy?" + +The officer addressed put his empty glass between his knees and proceeded +to fill a cherrywood pipe of villainous aspect from a Korean oiled-silk +tobacco pouch. + +"Took a flapper to the movies," was the grave and somewhat unexpected +reply. + +Thorogood, lounging in any easy attitude against the door, took up the +tale of gallantry. "Apparently the star film of the afternoon was +'Britain's Sea-Dogs, or Jack-Tars at War,' and that appears to have been +too much for our little Lord Fauntleroy. He slipped out unbeknownst to +the fairy, and I found him at the club an hour later playing billiards +with the marker." + +The cavalier relaxed not a muscle of his sphinx-like gravity. "Never +know what to do with myself on leave," he observed in sepulchral tones. +"Always glad to get back. Like the fellow in the Bastille--what?" He +raised his empty tumbler and scanned the light through it with sombre +interest. "Long ship, this, James." + +The phrase is an old Navy one, and signifies much the same thing as the +Governor of North Carolina said to the Governor of South Carolina. + +"Sorry," apologised the host. "There isn't any more soda, I'm afraid, +but----" + +"Don't mind water," said his guest, diluting his tot from the +water-bottle. He turned to the India-rubber Man. + +"What ship're you going to?" he asked. + +Standish named the ship to which he had been appointed. The other took a +sip of his whisky and water and nodded with the air of one whose worst +misgivings had been confirmed. + +"I remember now: I saw your appointment. James and I belong to her. +We're going to be shipmates, then." He blew a cloud of smoke +ceilingwards. "It's all right in one of those new ships: no scuttles: +tinned air and electric light between decks: wake up every morning +feeling's if you'd been gassed. An' the turrets----" He plunged +gloomily into technicalities that conveyed the impression that the +interior of a turret of the latest design was the short cut to a lunatic +asylum. "I'm the Assistant Gunnery Lieutenant in our hooker, and I tell +you it's a dirty business." + +"What d'you do for exercise?" queried the India-rubber Man when the +Assistant Gunnery Lieutenant lapsed again into gloomy silence. + +"Plenty of that," said Thorogood. "Deck-hockey and medicine-ball--you +mark out a tennis-court on the quarter deck, you know, and heave a 9-lb. +ball over a 5 ft. net--foursomes. Fine exercise." He spoke with the +grave enthusiasm of the athlete, to whom the attainment of bodily fitness +is very near to godliness indeed. "You can get a game of rugger when the +weather is good enough to allow landing, and there's quite a decent +little 9-hole golf course. Oh, you can keep fit enough." + +"How about the sailors--are they keeping cheery?" + +Thorogood laughed. "They're amazing. Of course, we've got a real white +man for a Skipper--and the Commander, too: that goes a long way. And +they're away from drink and--other things that ain't good for 'em. +Everybody has more leisure to devote to them than in peace-time: their +amusements and recreations generally. Cinema shows and regattas, boxing +championships, and all the rest of it. There's fifty per cent. less +sickness and fewer punishments than we ever had in peacetime. Of course, +it's an exile for the married men--it's rough on them, but on the whole +there's jolly little grumbling." + +"Yes," said the India-rubber Man. "It must be rough on the married men." +He felt suddenly as if an immense period of time had passed since he said +good-bye to Betty: and the next moment he felt that he had had enough of +the others. He wanted to get along to his own compartment where the +scent of violets had lingered. + +He rose, stretching himself, and slipped his pipe into his pocket. +"Well," he said, "'Sufficient unto the day.' I'm turning in now." + +There was a little pause after his departure, and Thorogood prodded the +bowl of his pipe reflectively. + +"I wonder what's happened to the India-rubber Man?" he said. "It's some +time since I saw him last, but he's altered somehow. Not mouldy exactly, +either...." + +"He's married," said the King's Messenger, staring at the shaded electric +light overhead, as he sprawled with one elbow on the pillow. + +Mouldy Jakes gave a little grunt. "Thought as much. They get like +that." He spoke as if referring to the victims of an incomprehensible +and ravaging disease. "An' it's always the good ones that get nabbed." +He eyed the King's Messenger with an expression of melancholy +omniscience. "Not so suspicious, you know." + +"Well," said Thorogood, "that is as may be: but I'm off to bed. Come +along, Mouldy." + +The misogamist suffered himself to be led to the double-berthed +compartment he shared with Thorogood. + +The King's Messenger locked the door after their departure and got into +pyjamas. For a long time he sat cross-legged on his bunk, nursing his +maimed limb and staring into vacancy as the express roared on through the +night. Finally, as if he had arrived at some conclusion, he shook his +head rather sadly, turned in, and switched out the light. + +"Good lad, Podgie," observed Thorogood reflectively to his companion, as +he proceeded to undress. + +Mouldy Jakes, energetically brushing his teeth over the tiny +washing-basin, grunted assent. + +"Ever met my cousin Cecily?" pursued Thorogood. "No, I don't think you +did: she was at school when we stayed with Uncle Bill before the war." + +"Shouldn't remember her if I had," mumbled the gallant. + +"She's Uncle Bill's ward, and by way of being rather fond of Podgie, I +fancy--at least, she used to be, I know. But the silly old ass won't go +near her since he lost his foot." + +Mouldy Jakes dried his tooth-brush, and, fumbling in his trouser pocket, +produced a penny. + +"Heads or tails?" he queried. + +"Tails--why?" + +"It's a head. Bags I the lower berth." + +The India-rubber Man, in his compartment, had got into pyjamas and was +sitting up in his bunk writing with a pencil and pad on his knees. When +he had finished he stamped and addressed an envelope, rang for the +attendant, and gave it to him to be posted at the next stopping-place. +It bore an address in Queen's Gate, London, where at the moment the +addressee, curled up in the centre of a very large bed, was doing her +best in the darkness to keep a promise. + + + +[1] Torpedoes. + +[2] Mines. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE "NAVY SPECIAL" + +Railway travel appeals to the sailor-man. It provides him with ample +leisure for conversation, sleep, or convivial song. When the +possibilities of these absorbing pursuits are exhausted, remains a +heightened interest in the next meal. + +The pale February sunlight was streaming across snow-covered moorland +that stretched away on either side of the line, when the Highland +Express drew up at the first stopping place the following morning. +From every carriage poured a throng of hungry bluejackets in search of +breakfast. Many wore long coats of duffle or sheepskin provided by a +maternal Admiralty in view of the severe weather conditions in the far +North. The British bluejacket is accustomed to wear what he is told to +wear, and further, to continue wearing it until he is told to put on +something else. Hence a draft of men sent North to the Fleet from one +of the Naval depots in the South of England would cheerfully don the +duffle coats issued to them on departure and keep them on until they +arrived at their destination, with an equal disregard for such outward +circumstances as temperature or environment. + +A night's journey in a crowded and overheated railway carriage, muffled +in such garb, would not commend itself to the average individual as an +ideal prelude to a hearty breakfast. Yet the cheerful, sleepy-eyed +crowd of apparently par-boiled Arctic explorers that invaded the +restaurant buffet vociferously demanding breakfast, appeared on the +best of terms with themselves, one another and the world at large. + +A score or more of officers besieged a flustered girl standing beside a +pile of breakfast baskets, and the thin, keen morning air resounded +with banter and voices. The King's Messenger, freshly shaven and pink +of countenance (a woman once likened his face to that of a cherub +looked at through a magnifying glass), stood at the door of his +carriage and exchanged morning greetings with travellers of his +acquaintance. Then the guard's whistle sounded; the noise and laughter +redoubled along the platform and a general scramble ensued. Doors +slammed down the length of the train, and the damsel in charge of the +breakfast baskets raised her voice in lamentation. + +"Ane o' the gentlemen hasna paid for his basket!" she cried. Heads +appeared at windows, and the owner of one extended a half-crown. "It's +my friend in here," he explained. "His name is Mouldy Jakes, and he +can't speak for himself because his mouth is too full of bacon; but he +wishes me to say that he's awfully sorry he forgot. He was struck all +of a heap at meeting a lady so early in the morning...." The speaker +vanished abruptly, apparently jerked backwards by some mysterious +agency. The train started. + +The maiden turned away with a simper. "It was no his friend at all," +she observed to the young lady from the buffet, who had emerged to wave +farewell to a bold, bad Engine Room Artificer after a desperate +flirtation of some forty seconds' duration. "It was himself." + +"They're a' sae sonsie!" said the young lady from the buffet with a +rapturous sigh. + +At the junction where the train stopped at noon, Naval occupation of +the North proclaimed itself. A Master-at-Arms, austere of visage and +stentorian voiced, fell upon the weary voyagers like a collie rallying +a flock of sheep. A Lieutenant-Commander of the Reserve, in a tattered +monkey-jacket, was superintending the unstowing of bags and hammocks by +a party of ancient mariners in white working rig and brown gaiters. A +retired Boatswain, who apparently bore the responsibilities of local +Traffic Superintendent upon his broad shoulders, held sage council with +the engine driver. + +The travellers were still many weary hours from their destination, but +the solicitude of the great Mother Fleet for her sons' welfare was +plain on every side. There were evidences of a carefully planned, +wisely executed organisation in the speed with which the great crowd of +blue-jackets and marines of all ranks and ratings, and bound for fifty +different ships, were mustered, given their dinners and marshalled into +the "Navy Special" that would take them on their journey. + +Mouldy Jakes deposited his bags and rug strap on the platform and +surveyed the scene with mournful pride. "Good old Navy!" he observed +to the India-rubber Man, while Thorogood went in search of food. "Good +old firm! Father and mother and ticket collector and supplier of +ham-sandwiches to us all. Who wouldn't sell his little farm and go to +sea?" + +Standish picked up his suit-case and together they made for the +adjoining platform, where the train that was to take them on their +journey was waiting. + +They selected a carriage and were presently joined by Thorogood, +burdened with eatables and soda water. The bluejackets were already in +their carriages, and the remaining officers, to the number of about a +score, were settling down in their compartments. They represented all +ranks of the British Navy; a Captain and two Commanders were joined by +the Naval Attaché of a great neutral Power on his way to visit the +Fleet. An Engineer Commander and a Naval Instructor shared a luncheon +basket with a Sub-Lieutenant and a volunteer Surgeon. Two Clerks, a +Midshipman and a Torpedo Gunner found themselves thrown together, and +at the last moment a Chaplain added himself to their company. + +The last door closed and the King's Messenger, carrying his despatch +case, came limping along the platform in company with the grey-bearded +Commander in charge of the base. The King's Messenger climbed into his +carriage and the journey was resumed. Along the shores of jade-tinted +lochs, through far-stretching deer forest and grouse moor, past +brawling rivers of "snow-brew," and along the flanks of shale-strewn +hills, the "Navy Special" bore its freight of sailor-men. + +No corridor connected the carriages to afford opportunities for an +interchange of visits for gossip and change of companionship. The +occupants of each compartment settled down grimly to endure the +monotony of the last stage of their journey according to the dictates +of their several temperaments. + +The King's Messenger, in the seclusion of his reserved compartment, +read a novel at intervals and looked out of the window for familiar +landmarks that recalled spells of leave in pre-war days, when he +tramped on two feet through the heather behind the dogs, or, thigh deep +in some river, sent a silken line out across the peat-brown water. + +In an adjoining compartment a Lieutenant of the Naval Reserve sat at +one end facing a Lieutenant of the Volunteer Reserve, while a small +Midshipman, effaced behind a magazine, occupied the other corner. +Conversation, stifled by ham sandwiches, restarted fitfully, and +flagged from train weariness. Darkness pursued the whirling landscape +and blotted it out. Sleep overtook the majority of the travellers +until the advent of tea baskets at the next stopping place revived them +to a more lively interest in life and one another. + +The Reserve Lieutenant fussed over his like a woman. "I wouldn't +trouble if I never smelt whisky again," he confided to his vis-à-vis, +"but I couldn't get on without tea." He helped himself to three lumps +of sugar. + +The ice thinned rapidly. + +"With fresh milk," said the Volunteer Reserve man appreciatively, +pouring himself out a cup. "Eh, Jennings?" + +The Midshipman, thus addressed, grinned and applied himself in silence +to a scone and jam. + +"Ah," said the Reserve man with a kind of tolerance in his tone, such +as a professional might extend to the enthusiasm of an amateur in his +own trade. "Cows scarce in your job?" + +"A bit," was the unruffled reply. "We've just brought a Norwegian +wind-jammer in from the South of Iceland...." He indicated with a nod +the young gentleman in the corner, who was removing traces of jam from +his left cheek. "I'm bringing the armed guard back to our base." + +The Reserve man drank his tea after the manner of deep-sea sailor-men. +That is to say, you could shut your eyes and still know: he was +drinking hot tea. + +"Armed Merchant-cruiser squadron?" he queried. Imperceptibly his tone +had changed. The Armed Merchant-cruisers maintain the Allied blockade +across the trade routes of the Far North: "fancy" sailor-men do not +apply for jobs in one of these amazons of the North Sea, and it takes +more than a Naval uniform to bring a suspect sailing ship many miles +into port for examination under an armed guard of four men. + +The Volunteer nodded. "We had a picnic, I can tell you. It blew like +hell from the N.E., and the foretopmast--she was a barque--went like a +carrot the second day. We hove to, trying to rig a jury mast, when up +popped a Fritz."[1] The speaker laughed, a pleasant, deep laugh of +complete enjoyment. "I thought we were in for a swim that would knock +the cross-Channel record silly! However, I borrowed a suit from the +skipper--and he wasn't what you'd call fastidious in his dress +either----" + +The Volunteer made a little grimace at the recollection, because he was +a man of refined tastes and raced his own yacht across the Atlantic in +peace time. + +"It was too rough to board, but the submarine closed to within hailing +distance, and a little pipsqueak of a Lieutenant, nervous as a cat, +talked to us through a megaphone. Fortunately I can speak +Norwegian...." + +"What about the skipper of the wind-jammer?" interrupted the other. + +"He kept his mouth shut. Wasn't much in sympathy with the company that +owned the submarine, having lost a brother the month before in a +steamship shelled and sunk without warning. You can't please +everybody, it seems, when you start out to act mad in a submarine. +Well, this lad examined our papers through a glass and I chucked him a +cigar.... He hadn't had a smoke for a week. Then he sheered off, +because he saw something on the horizon that scared him. He was very +young, and, as I've said, nerves like fiddle strings." + +The Reserve man lit a cigarette and inhaled a great draught of smoke. +There was something in his alert, intent expression reminiscent of a +bull terrier when he hears rats scuffling behind a wainscot. + +The war has evolved specialists without number in branches of Naval +warfare hitherto unknown and unsuspected. Among these is the Submarine +Hunter. The Reserve man belonged to this type, which is simply a +reversion to the most primitive and savage of the fighting instincts. +At the first mention of the German submarine he leaned forward eagerly. + +"Threw him a cigar, did you?" he said grimly. "Sorry I wasn't +there. I'd have thrown him something. That's my line of +business--Fritz-hunting." + +The ribbon of the Distinguished Service Cross on the lapel of his +monkey-jacket showed that he apparently pursued this branch of sport +with some effect. "Been at it from the kick-off," he continued. +"Started with herring nets, you know!" He laughed a deep bark of +amusement. "Lord! We had a lot to learn. We began from an East Coast +fishing port, working with crazy drifters manned by East Coast +fishermen. There was a retired Admiral in charge, as tough an old +terror as ever pulled on a sea boot--and half a dozen of us all +together, some Active Service and some Reserve like me. Navy? Bless +you, _we_ were the Navy, that old Admiral and us six." The speaker +raised his voice to make plain his words above the rattle of the train. +"There was a lot of talk in the papers about Jellicoe and Beatty and +the Grand Fleet and the Battle Cruisers, but they didn't come our way +and we didn't trouble them. We had a couple of score of trawlers and +drifters and four hundred simple fishermen to cram the fear of the Lord +into. That was our job!" + +He spoke with the peculiar word-sparing vividness of the man to whom +the Almighty had vouchsafed the mysterious gift of handling other men. +"Long-shore and deep-sea fishermen, good material, damned good, but +they took a lot of coaxing." He paused and contemplated his hands +resting on his knees. Scarred by frost-bite they were, with huge bones +protruding like knuckle-dusters. "Coaxing, mind you," he repeated. +"I've been chief of an Argentine cattle-boat for four years and Second +on a windjammer round the Horn for three years before that. I know +when to drive and when to coax. Never touched a man, sir." He paused, +rubbing off the moisture condensed on the window, to peer info the +night. + +Here, then, was an Apostle of Naval Discipline among a community of +fishermen whose acknowledged tradition it was to get drunk when and +where it suited their inclinations, to put to sea in the top-hats of +their ancestors and return to harbour as weather or the fish dictated, +whose instinctive attitude towards strangers was about as encouraging +as that of the Solomon Islanders. + +"We took 'em and trained 'em--gradually, you understand. Taught 'em to +salute the King's uniform, an' just why orders had to be obeyed: +explained it all gently"--the stupendous hand made a gesture in the air +as if stroking something. "Then after a while we moved 'em on to +something else--the Game itself, in fact--and my merry men tumbled to +it in no time. It was in their blood, I guess. They'd hunted +something all their lives, and they weren't scared because they had to +take on something a bit bigger. I tell you, after a few weeks I just +prayed for a submarine to come along and show what we could do." + +The Volunteer grinned understandingly. "Well?" he said. + +"We got one a week later. Just for all the world like a bloomin' +salmon. First we knew that there was one about was the _Merrie +Maggie_, one of our trawlers, blowing up. Well, I'd been over the same +spot in the morning, and there were no mines there then, so I knew our +friend wasn't far off...." The Submarine Hunter mused for a moment, +staring at his clasped hands, with the faint blue tattoo-marks showing +under the tan. "We got him at dawn--off a headland.... Oh, best bit +of sport that ever I had!" The speaker's hard grey eye softened at the +recollection. "We've got lots since, but never one as neat as that. +He just came to the surface and showed his tail-fin and----" the huge +hands made a significant downward gesture. + +If you have ever heard a Regimental Bombing Officer describe the +clearing of an enemy traverse, you will understand the complete +expressiveness of that gesture. + +"I'm going North now to join a new base up there. There are one or two +dodges that I can put them up to, I reckon." + +The Volunteer filled and lit a pipe. + +"Pretty work it sounds. Ours is duller, on the whole, but we get our +share of excitement. You never sight a steamer flying neutral colours +without the possibility of her hoisting the German ensign and slipping +a torpedo into you. That's why we introduced the Red Pendant business. +It meant inconvenience for all parties, but neutrals have only got the +Hun to thank for it." + +"Never heard of it," said the other. "Fritz-hunting is my game." + +"Well, you see, ever since they've tried to slip raiders through the +blockade we can't afford to close a stranger flying neutral colours +within gun or torpedo range. So we had to explain to neutrals that a +red flag hoisted by one of our merchant cruisers is the signal to heave +to instantly, and that brings her up well out of range. Then we drop a +boat and steam off and signal her to close the boat, and the boarding +officer goes on board and examines her papers. If she's got a cargo +without guarantees she's sent into one of the examination ports under +an armed guard to have it overhauled properly." + +"For contraband?" + +"Yes, and to see that the commodity she carries isn't in excess of the +ration allowed to the country of destination--if she's eastward bound, +that is. Also the passengers are scrutinised for suspects, and so on; +it's a big job, one way and another. That's all done by the +Examination Service at the port, though, and I don't envy them the job. +We only catch 'em and bring 'em in." + +For a while longer he talked between puffs at his pipe of the "twilight +service" rendered by the Armed Merchant-cruisers. He spoke of grim +stern-chases under the Northern Lights, of perils from ice and +submarines and winter gales, while the Allied strangle-hold tightened +month by month, remorselessly, relentlessly. + +"It's a peaceful sort of job, though, on the whole," he concluded. +"Nobody worries us. The public, most of 'em, don't know we exist. +Journalists don't want to come and visit us much," he chuckled. "We +don't find our way into the illustrated papers...." + +"That's right," said the Submarine Hunter. "That's the way to work in +war-time. If I had my way----" + +A jarring shudder ran through the train as the brakes were applied and +the speed slackened. The Reserve Man lowered the window and peered out +into the darkness. A flurry of snow drifted into the dimly lighted +carriage. + +"Hallo!" he ejaculated. "We're here. Bless me, how the time goes when +one gets yarning." + +The Volunteer rose and held out his hand. + +"My name is Armitage," he said, and named two exclusive clubs, one in +London and the other in New York. "Look me up after the war if you +pass that way." + +The Submarine Hunter took the proffered hand in his formidable grip. + +"Pleased to have met you. Mine's Gedge. I don't own a club, but the +Liverpool Shipping Federation generally knows my address. And the +girls from Simonstown to Vladivostock will tell you if I've passed that +way!" + +He threw back his head, displaying the muscular great throat above his +collar, and laughed like a mischievous boy. + +"Good luck!" he said. + +"Good hunting!" replied the Volunteer. + +He turned to the Midshipman. "Come along, sonny, shake the sleep out +of your eyes and go and collect our little party." + +Outside in the snowy darkness the great concourse of men was being +mustered: lanterns gleamed on wet oilskins and men's faces. Hoarse +voices and the tramp of heavy boots through the slush heralded the +passage along the platform of each draft as they were marched to the +barrier. A cold wind cut through the cheerless night like a knife. + +Armitage paused for a moment to accustom his eyes to the darkness. + +"Here we are, Mouldy," said a clear-cut, well-bred voice out of the +darkness surrounding a pile of luggage. "Here's our stuff. Get a +truck, old thing!" + +Armitage turned in the direction of the voice: as he did so a passing +lantern flashed on the face of a Lieutenant stooping over some +portmanteaux. + +"I thought as much," he said. "Thought I recognised the voice." He +stepped towards the speaker and rested his hand on his shoulder. +"James Thorogood, isn't it?" he said. + +The other straightened up and peered through the darkness at the face +of the Volunteer Lieutenant. "Yes," he replied, "but it's devilish +dark--I can't----" + +"I'm Armitage," said the other. Thorogood laughed. "Great Scott!" he +exclaimed. "Were you in the train? I didn't see you before----" + +"Neither did I," was the reply, "but I heard your voice and recognised +it. How is Sir William?" + +"Uncle Bill? Oh, he's all right. Hard at work on some comic invention +of his, as usual." + +The other nodded. "Well, give him my love when you write, and tell him +I've struck the type of man he wants for that experiment of his. I'll +write to him, though. Now I must go and find my little party of +braves--bringing an armed guard back to our base. Good-bye and good +luck to you." + +They shook hands, and the Volunteer half turned away. An afterthought +appeared to strike him, however, and he stopped. + +"By the way," he added, "how's Miss Cecily? Well, I hope?" + +"She's all right, thanks," was the reply. "I'll tell her I've seen +you." + +"Will you? Yes, thank you. And will you say I--I am looking forward +to seeing her again next time I come South?" + +The speaker moved away into the darkness. + +At that moment appeared Mouldy Jakes, panting behind a barrow. "Who's +that old bird?" he queried. + +"Another of 'em," replied Thorogood. + +"'Nother of what?" + +"Cecily's hopeless attachments. He's a pal of Uncle Bill's, and as +rich as Croesus. Amateur deep sea yachtsman before the war. He's +awfully gone on Cecily." + +"'Counts for him hanging round your neck, I s'pose," commented the +student of human nature. "Sort of 'dweller-near-the-rose' business. +Heave that suit-case over--unless you can find any more of your +cousin's admirers sculling about the country. P'raps they'll load this +truck for us and shove it to the boat. Ah, here's Podgie!" + +A moment later the King's Messenger joined the group. + +"Will you all come and have supper with me at the hotel?" he said. +"It's the last meal you'll get on terra firma for some time to come. +I've got a car waiting outside." + +Mouldy Jakes heaved the last of the bags on to the hand-cart and +enlisted the services of a superannuated porter drifting past in the +darkness. The King's Messenger had slipped his arm inside Thorogood's, +and the two moved on towards the barrier. + +"Has your wife got a young brother?" asked Mouldy Jakes abruptly as he +and the India-rubber Man followed in the wake of the porter and the +barrow. + +"Yes," replied Standish. "A lad called Joe--cadet at Dartmouth." + +"Did you ever ask him to dinner--before you were engaged, I mean?" +pursued the inquisitor. + +The India-rubber Man laughed. + +"Well, not dinner exactly. But I went down to Osborne College once and +stood him a blow-out at the tuck-shop." + +His companion nodded darkly in the direction of the King's Messenger. + +"Shouldn't wonder if Thorogood was feeling like that lad Joe. Useful +fellow to travel with, Thorogood." + + + +[1] Submarine. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +ULTIMA THULE + +Across the stormy North Sea came the first faint streak of dawn. It +overtook a long line of Destroyers rolling landward with battered +bridge-screens and salt-crusted funnels; it met a flotilla of +mine-sweeping Sloops, labouring patiently out to their unending task. It +lit the frowning cliffs, round which wind-tossed gulls wailed and +breakers had thundered the beat of an ocean's pulse throughout the ages. + +The Destroyers were not sorry to see the dawn. The night was their +task-master: in darkness they worked and in the Shadow of Death. They +passed within hailing distance of the Sloops, and on board the reeling +Destroyers here and there a figure in streaming oilskins raised his arm +and waved a salutation to the squat grey craft setting forth in the +comfortless dawn to holystone Death's doorstep. + +The Mine-sweepers refrained from any such amenity. Anon the darkness +would come again, when no man may sweep for mines. Then would be their +turn for grins and the waving of arms. In the meanwhile, they preferred +to remain grim and restless as their work. + +Presently the Destroyers, obedient to a knotted tangle of flags at the +yardarm of their leader, altered course a little; they were making for an +opening in the wall of rock, on either side of which gaunt promontories +thrust their naked shoulders into the surf. The long black, viperish +hulls passed through under the ever-watchful eyes of the shore batteries, +and the hooded figures on the Destroyer bridges threw back their duffle +cowls and wiped the night's accumulation of dried spray and cinders out +of the puckers round their tired eyes. + +The Commanding Officer of the leading Destroyer leaned across the +bridge-rails and stared round at the ring of barren islands encircling +the great expanse of water into which they had passed, the naked, +snow-powdered hills in the background: at the greyness and desolation of +earth and sky and sea. + +"Home again!" he said in an undertone to the Lieutenant beside him. "It +ain't much of a place to look at, but I'm never sorry to see it again +after a dusting like we got last night." + +The Lieutenant raised the glasses slung round his neck by a strap and +levelled them at a semi-globular object that had appeared on the surface +some distance away. "There's old Tirpitz waiting to say good morning as +usual." + +The Commander laughed. "Rum old devil he is. That's where the Hun has +the pull over us. He's got something better than a seal to welcome him +back to harbour--when he _does_ get back!" + +"When he does, yes." The other chuckled. "Gretchens an' iron crosses +an' joy bells. Lord, I'd love to see 'em, wouldn't you? Just for five +minutes!" + +The Commander moved across to the tiny binnacle. "I'd rather see my own +wife for five minutes," he replied. Then, raising his voice, "Starboard +ten!" + +"Starboard ten, sir," repeated the voice of the helmsman. + +The Commander stood with watchful eye on the swinging compass card. +"Midships ... steady!" + +"Steady, sir!" sang the echo at the wheel. The Commander glanced aft +through the trail of smoke at the next astern swinging round in the +smother of his wake. "Well, we shan't be long now before we tie up to +the buoy--curse these fellows! Here come all the drifters with mails and +ratings for the Fleet.... Port five!" + +"Port five, sir!" The flotilla altered course disdainfully to avoid a +steam drifter which wallowed through the wake of the Destroyers in the +direction of the distant fleet, still shrouded by the morning mist. +"That's the King's Messenger going off to the Fleet Flagship. There come +the others, strung out in a procession, making for the different +squadrons. Wake up, you son of Ham!" The speaker stepped to the lanyard +of the syren and jerked it savagely. Obedient to the warning wail +another drifter altered course in reluctant compliance with the Rule of +the Road. "I'd rather take the flotilla through Piccadilly Circus than +manoeuvre among these Fleet Messengers! They're bad enough on the high +seas in peace-time with their nets out, but booming about inside a +harbour they're enough to turn one's hair grey." + +If the truth be told, the past had known no great love lost between the +Destroyers and the fishing fleet. Herring-nets round a propeller are not +calculated to bind hearts together in brotherly affection. Perhaps dim +recollections of bygone mishaps of this nature had soured the Destroyer +Commander's heart towards the steam-drifter. + +On the outbreak of war, however, the steam fishing fleets became an arm +of the great Navy itself, far-reaching as its own squadrons. They +exchanged their nets for guns and mine-sweeping paraphernalia: they +became submarine-hunters, mine-sweepers, fleet-messengers and patrollers +of the great commerce sea-ways in the South. They became a little Navy +within the Navy, in fact, already boasting their own peculiar traditions, +and probably as large a proportion of D.S.C.'s as any other branch of the +mother Service. + +They are a slow, crab-gaited community that clings to gold earrings and +fights in jerseys and thigh boots from which the fish-scales have not +altogether departed. Ashore, on the other hand (where their women rule), +they consent to the peaked cap and brass buttons of His Majesty's +uniform, and wear it, moreover, with the coy self-consciousness of a +bulldog in a monogrammed coat. + +Link by link they have built up a chain of associations with the parent +Navy that will not be easily broken when the time comes for these little +auxiliaries to return to their peaceful calling. They have worked side +by side with the dripping Submarine; they have sheltered through storms +in the lee of anchored Battleships; they have piloted proud Cruisers +through the newly-swept channels of a mine-field, and brought a +Battle-cruiser Squadron its Christmas mail in the teeth of a Northern +blizzard. In token of these things, babies born in fishing villages from +the Orkneys to the Nore have been christened after famous Admirals and +men-of-war, that the new generation shall remember. + +The drifter that had altered course slowly came round again when the last +of the Destroyers swept past, and the three figures in the bows ducked as +she shipped a bucket of spray and flung it aft over the tiny wheel-house. +One of the figures turned and stared after the retreating hulls. + +"Confound 'em," he said. "Just like the blooming Destroyers, chucking +their weight about as if they owned creation, and making us take their +beastly wash." He took off his cap and shook the salt water from it. +One of the other two chuckled. "Never 'mind, Mouldy, it will be your +turn to laugh next time we go to sea, when you're perched on the +forebridge sixty feet above the waterline, and watching our +Destroyer-screen shipping it green over their funnels." + +Mouldy Jakes shook his head gloomily. "Laugh!" he echoed. "Then I'd get +shoved under arrest by the skipper under suspicion of being drunk." + +The drifter rounded an outlying promontory of one of the islands, and +Thorogood raised his hand. "There you are," he said, "there's our little +lot!" He indicated with a nod the Battle-fleet of Britain. + +"And very nice too," said the India-rubber Man, staring in the direction +of the other's gaze. "Puts me in mind, as they say, of a picture I saw +once. 'National Insurance,' I think it was called." + +A shaft of sunlight had struggled through a rift in the clouds and fell +athwart the dark waters of the harbour. In the far distance, outlined +against the sombre hills and lit by the pale sunshine, a thicket of +tripod masts rose towering above the grey hulls of the anchored +Battle-fleet. + +As the drifter drew near the different classes of ships became +distinguishable. A squadron of Light Cruisers were anchored between them +and the main Fleet, with a thin haze of smoke hovering above their raking +funnels. Beyond them, line upon line, in a kind of sullen majesty, lay +the Battleships. Seen thus in peace-time, a thousand glistening points +of burnished metal, the white of the awnings, smooth surfaces of enamel, +varnish and gold-leaf would have caught the liquid sunlight and concealed +the menace of that stern array. + +Now, however, stripped of awnings, with bare decks, stark as gladiators, +sombre and terrible, they conveyed a relentless significance heightened +by the desolation of their surroundings. + +From the offing came the rumble of heavy gunfire. + +"Don't be alarmed," said Thorogood to the India-rubber Man, who had +turned in the direction of the sound; "we haven't missed the bus!" He +looked along the lines with a swift, practised eye. "It's only some of +the Battle-cruisers out doing target practice. That's our squadron, +there." He pointed ahead. "We're the second ship in that line." + +The drifter passed up a broad lane, on either side of which towered grey +steel walls, unbroken by scuttles or embrasures; above them the muzzles +of guns hooded by casemates and turrets, the mighty funnels, piled up +bridges and superstructures, frowned down like the battlements of +fortresses. Men, dwarfed by the magnitude of their environment to the +size of ants, and clad in jerseys and white working-rig, swarmed about +the decks and batteries. + +"There's the Fleet Flagship," continued Thorogood, pointing. "That ship +with the drifters round her, flying the Commander-in-Chief's flag. +That's where Podgie was bound for. Rummy to think he'll be back in +London again in a couple of days' time!" + +A seaplane that had been riding on the surface near the Fleet Flagship's +quarter, rose like a flying gull, circled in wide spirals over the Fleet +and sped seawards. Across the lanes of water, armed picket-boats, with +preternaturally grave-faced Midshipmen at their wheels, picked their way +amongst the traffic of drifters, cutters under sail, hooting store +carriers and puffers from the distant base. + +Mouldy Jakes contemplated the busy scene without undue enthusiasm. + +"Everything seems to be much the same as usual," was his dry comment. +"They seem to have got on all right without me for the last seven days. +We've had a coat of paint, too. Wonder what's up. P'raps the King's +coming to pay us a visit. Or else the Commander reckons it's about time +to beat up for his promotion." + +The skipper of the drifter jerked the miniature telegraph to "Slow," and +a hoary-headed deck-hand stumped into the bows with a heaving line coiled +over his arm. The drifter crept up under the quarter of a Battleship +that towered above them into the grey sky. + +A tall, thin Lieutenant with a telescope under his arm looked down from +the quarterdeck and made a gesture of greeting. + +"Hullo, Tweedledum," said Thorogood; and added, "Bless me, Tweedledum's +shaved his beard off!" + +"Must be the King, then," said Mouldy gloomily. "Means I shall have to +order another monkey-jacket." A bull terrier thrust a python-like head +between the rails and wagged his tail. The drifter grated her fenders +alongside and made fast. + +The three officers climbed the swaying ladder to the upper deck, and were +greeted in turn by the tall Lieutenant with the telescope. "You're +Standish, aren't you?" he asked, turning to the India-rubber Man. "The +Commander wants to see you--you're an old shipmate of his, it seems?" He +led the way as he spoke towards a door in the after superstructure. + +"Yes," was the reply. "He was the First Lieutenant in my last ship--with +this Skipper." + +"Ah," said the other, "she must have been a good ship then." + +They skirted a hatchway in the interior of the superstructure that yawned +into the electric-lit interior of the ship, past cabins opening on to the +foremost side of them, and stopped at a curtained doorway. A square of +polished mahogany was screwed into the bulkhead beside it, with the +following inscription in brass letters: + + DON'T KNOCK. + COME IN. + + +The Officer of the Watch drew back the curtain and motioned to his +companion to enter. "Lieutenant Commander Standish, sir," he said. + +The Commander, who was writing at a knee-hole table, turned and rose with +his grave, slow smile. + +"Come in, Bunje," he said, holding out his hand. "Very glad you've got +here at last." He laid his left hand for an instant on the India-rubber +Man's shoulder and searched his face with kindly grey eyes. "How're the +wounds and the wife and all the other things you've collected since I saw +you last?" + +The India-rubber Man laughed. + +"They're all right, sir, thanks." He glanced at the cap, with its gold +oak leaves adorning the brim, lying on the desk. "I haven't +congratulated you on your promotion yet," he added. "I was awfully glad +to hear you had got your 'brass hat'!" + +The Commander laughed. "I still turn round when anyone sings out 'Number +One,'" he replied. "I was beginning to feel as if I'd been a First +Lieutenant all my life! Seems quite funny not to be chivvying round +after the flat-sweepers." He resumed his seat. "Well, you'll find a few +of the old lot here: there's the Skipper of course, and Double-O +Gerrard--d'you remember the A.P.? And little Pills: he's Staff Surgeon +now, and no end of a nut... Let's see--oh, yes, and young Bowses: he +used to be one of our snotties, if you remember. 'Kedgeree,' the others +called him. He's Sub of the Gunroom. That's about all of the old lot in +the Channel Fleet. But I think you'll like all the rest. It's a very +happy mess." + +The India-rubber Man was roving round the cabin examining photographs. + +"Hullo!" he said. "You've got poor old Torps's photo here." + +"Yes," was the reply. "I--I met a woman when I was on leave, of whom he +was very fond. She had two of his photographs and gave me that one." +The Commander had risen to his feet and was staring out of the scuttle +with absent eyes. "But, come along. The Skipper wants to see you, and +then I'll take you along to the mess. It's getting on for lunch time. +What sort of a journey did you have?" + +Still chatting they left the superstructure and passed aft along the +spacious quarterdeck, where, round the flanks of the great superimposed +turrets, a part of the watch were sweeping down the deck and squaring off +ropes. The Commander led the way down a hatchway aft to an electric-lit +lobby, where a marine sentry clicked to attention as they passed, and +opened a door in the after bulkhead. They crossed the fore cabin +extending the whole beam of the ship, and entered the after cabin. + +Unlike other cabins on the main deck, this was lit by scuttles in the +ship's side, and right aft, big armoured doors opened on to the stern +walk. It lacked conspicuously the adornments usually associated with the +Captain's apartment. Bare corticene covered the deck; the walls of white +enamelled steel were unadorned save for a big scale chart of the North +Sea and a coloured map of the Western Front. A few framed photographs +stood on the big roll-topped desk in one corner, and a bowl of purple +heather occupied the flat mahogany top to the tiled stove where an +electric radiator glowed. A bundle of singlesticks and a pair of foils +stood in the corner near an open bookcase; a padded "chesterfield" and a +few chairs completed the austere furnishing of the cabin. + +The Captain was standing before a deal table supported by trestles, which +occupied the deck space beneath the open skylight. On the table, amid +the litter of glue-pots, cardboard, thread and varnish, stood a model of +a Super-Dreadnought. He turned at the entry of the Commander and his +companion, laying down a pair of scissors. + +"Good morning, Standish," he said. "Glad to see you again. I won't +offer to shake hands--mine are covered with glue." He smiled in the +whimsical humorous way that always went straight to another man's heart. +"We're all returning to our second childhood up here, you see!" He +indicated the model. "This is my device for keeping out of mischief. +When finished I hope it will fill a similar role for the benefit of my +son, Cornelius James." + +Standish examined the model with interest and delight. + +"What a ripping bit of work, sir," he said. It was, indeed, a triumph of +patient ingenuity and craftmanship. + +"It's an improvement on wood-carving," was the reply. "All working +parts, you see." The Captain set in motion some internal mechanism, and +the turret guns trained slowly on to the beam. He pressed a button. +"Electric bow and steaming lights!" His voice had a ring of almost +boyish enthusiasm, and he picked up a tangle of threads from the table. +"But this fore-derrick purchase is the devil, though. All last evening I +was on the sheaves of one of the double blocks--maddening work. Hornby's +designing a hydraulic lift to the engine-room; column of water concealed +in the foremast, d'you see? When's that going to be finished, Hornby?" + +The Commander laughed. "We'll have it done in time for Corney's +birthday, sir." + +The Captain turned from the model. "Well, Standish," he said, "all +this"--he nodded at the work of his patient hands--"all this looks rather +as if we never had anything better to do! As a matter of fact, it's only +during the winter that one finds time for anything. We're pretty busy, +one way and another, you'll find. It'll take you some time to learn your +way round your turret, I expect. Jakes appears to find his an object of +some interest--do you know him, by the way?" The Captain's humorous blue +eyes twinkled. + +"Yes, I travelled up with him, sir. He mentioned the turret." + +"He probably did. He spends most of his life in his. Well, I'm glad +you've turned up in time for the Regatta. Our Wardroom crew wants a bit +of weight. I told the Admiral we were going to win the cock--the +Squadron trophy--this year, so you must see what you can do about it. +Also, I want you to look after the Midshipmen. They're a good lot, and +there's one in particular--Harcourt, isn't it, Commander?--who ought to +pull off the Midshipmen's Lightweights if he can keep down to the weight. +One or two want shaking up--Lettigne's too fat---- However, you probably +want to sling your hammock; hope you'll be comfortable." The Captain +nodded dismissal. As they reached the door the Captain spoke again. "By +the way," he said, "the children send their love...." + +"Now," said the Commander as they emerged, "it's nearly lunch time. Come +along to the smoking-room." + +They ascended again to the upper deck and forward of the superstructure, +descended a hatchway to the main deck. An open door in the armoured +bulkhead gave a glimpse forward of a gun battery and a teeming mess-deck +intent on its mid-day meal, where men jostled each other so thickly round +the crowded mess tables that it seemed incredible that anyone could live +for years in such surroundings and retain an individuality. + +They turned away and passed aft down an electric-lit alley-way. A door +on the right opened for a moment as they passed, and emitted the strains +of a gramophone and a boy's laughter. + +"That's the Gunroom," said the Commander. He led the way round a corner +and past the bloated trunk of an air-shaft to the other side of the ship. +"Here we are," he said, and opened a mahogany door in the white bulkhead, +stepping aside to allow the other to enter a smallish square apartment +lit by a skylight overhead and hazy with tobacco smoke. A few padded +settees and arm-chairs and a piano of venerable aspect, together with a +table covered by magazines and papers, comprised the furniture; +half-a-dozen coloured prints and a baize-covered notice board completed +the adornment of the walls. Through a doorway beyond came the hum of +conversation and clatter of knives and forks, where, in the Wardroom, +lunch had already commenced. About half-a-dozen members of the Mess, +however, still occupied the smoking-room; the nearest to the door, a +short, slightly built Staff Surgeon, in the act of shaking angostura +bitters into a glass which a steward proffered on a tray, turned his head +as the newcomers entered. + +"Bunje!" he cried, and put the bitters down. "Bunje! my son, Bunje! Oh, +frabjous day, Calloo, Callay! My arms enfold ye...." He enveloped the +India-rubber Man in a bear-like embrace. "Behold the prodigal returning! +Steward, bring hither a fatted calf and the swizzle-stick. Put a cherry +in it and a slice of lemon and eke crushed ice. My dear life!" He held +the India-rubber Man at an arm's length. "Bunje, these are moments when +strong men sob like little children. But let me introduce you." + +The occupants of the smoking-room, grinning, came forward to greet the +new messmate. The Staff Surgeon named them in turn. + +"This is the P.M.O. He's plus two at golf. I mention that in case he +offers to take you ashore and play you for half-a-crown. P.M.O., this is +Standish, a wounded hero and a friend of my care-free youth." The +speaker rolled his r's, thrust his hand into the bosom of his +monkey-jacket and struck a histrionic attitude. + +"Seated on the settee," he resumed, "caressing an overfed bull terrier, +we have Tweedledee, likewise overfed. Get up and say how d'you do to the +gentleman, Tweedledee." + +A short, chubby-faced Lieutenant rose and shook hands rather shyly. + +"Now," pursued the Doctor, "casting our eyes round the room at random we +see the Pilot--otherwise known as the 'Merry Wrecker.' The portly +gentleman in clerical garb helping himself to a cigarette out of someone +else's tin--His Eminence the Padre. The Captain of Marines you see +consuming gin and bitters: title of picture, 'Celebrities and their +Hobbies.' This is the Engineer Commander. He is considerably senior to +me and I therefore refrain from being witty at his expense. Taking +advantage of the general confusion caused by your arrival, the First +Lieutenant selects this moment to peep into the turgid pages of an +illustrated Parisian journal I regret to say this mess contributes to." + +The lecturer paused for breath. A tall, florid-faced Lieutenant +Commander with a broken nose, who had been leaning over the paper table, +pipe in mouth, straightened up with a chuckle and ostentatiously +fluttered the pages of the _Times_. He eyed the Staff Surgeon +reflectively for a moment and turned to the Captain of Marines. + +"Have we had enough, do you think, Soldier?" he asked in a voice of +ominous quiet. + +"I almost think so," replied the Captain of Marines. He finished his +_apéritif_ and stared absently at the skylight overhead. + +"Pills, dear," said the First Lieutenant in honeyed accents, "we're +afraid you are showing off before a stranger. There is only one penalty +for that." + +"The Glory-hole," said the Captain of Marines, and hurled himself on the +Staff Surgeon. The First Lieutenant followed suit, and between them they +dragged their struggling victim to the door. + +The bull terrier leaped around them with hysterical yelps of excitement. + +"Open the door, Padre," gasped the Captain of Marines as the struggle +swayed to and fro. "Garm, you fool, shut up!" + +The Chaplain complied with the request with alacrity, and the three +interlocked figures and the ecstatic dog floundered through out into the +flat. + +Just outside, in an angle formed by the armour of the turret and the +Wardroom bulkhead, was a small cupboard. It was used by the flat-sweeper +and messengers for the stowage of brooms, polishing paste, caustic soda +and other appliances of their craft, and was just large enough to hold a +small man upright. + +Into this dungeon, with the assistance of the Navigator, they succeeded +in stowing the Staff Surgeon, and despite his protests and frantic +struggles, shut and fastened the door. + +"Now," said the First Lieutenant, "let's go and have some lunch." + +"But you aren't going to leave him there, are you?" protested the +India-rubber Man. + +"Oh, no," was the reply. "The Padre is taking the time. Three minutes +we give him." They passed through into the long Wardroom where a score +or more of officers were seated at lunch round the table that occupied +practically the whole length of the apartment. "Come and sit here next +to Thorogood--you travelled up with him, didn't you?" + +The officer in question, who was ladling stewed prunes out of a dish on +to his plate, grinned at the new-comer. + +"Here you are," he said gaily. "Pea soup and boiled pork, my lad," and +passed the menu. "Mouldy's vanished since we got onboard. He's probably +lunching in his blessed old turret. I had some difficulty in restraining +him from trying to put his arms round it when he saw it again. Hullo! +Here's Pills. Pills, you look rather warm and your hair wants brushing." + +"So would yours if you had been set upon by Thugs," retorted the Doctor +as he took his seat. "Pea soup, please. Ha! There you are, Bunje. +Sorry I had to slip it across Number One and the Soldier just now. +However, boys will be boys and the least said soonest mended. All is not +gold that glitters and a faint heart never won fair lady--pass the salt, +please." + +"'Fraid we're rather a noisy mess," said the Commander. "You don't get +much chance to sit and think beautiful thoughts when Pills is about. +Hope you'll get used to it." + +The India-rubber Man laughed. "I expect so," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WAR BABIES + +"Properly at ease.... Class, 'Shun! Left turn! Dismiss!" + +The dozen or so of flannel-dad Midshipmen composing the class sprang +stiffly to attention, turned forward, and made off briskly in the +direction of the hatchway. The India-rubber Man thrust his hands into +the pockets of his flannel trousers and strolled across the quarterdeck +to where the Officer of the Watch was standing. + +"Tweedledum," he said, elevating his nose and sniffing the keen morning +air, "I can smell bacon frying somewhere. So could my class: I could +see their mouths watering. You might send for the cook and tell him +not to do it." + +"You're a dirty bully, Bunje, you know," said the Officer of +the Watch reprovingly. "Fancy dragging those unhappy children +out of their innocent hammocks at this unearthly hour of the +morning to flap their legs and arms about and do 'Knees up!' and +'Double-arm-bend-and-stretch!'" He raised a gloved hand and rubbed his +blue nose. Ashore a powdering of snow lay on the distant hills; in the +East the sky was flushing with bars of orange and gold athwart the +tumbled clouds. An armed drifter, coming in from the open sea, stood +out against the light in strong relief. "Here's Mouldy Jakes coming +back from Night Patrol--I bet even he isn't as cold as I am." + +"Rot!" retorted the Physical Trainer. "Do _you_ good, Tweedledum, to +hop round a bit on a lovely morning like this!" + +"Hop round!" echoed the other. "Hop round!" He looked about him as if +searching for a weapon. The dew, which everywhere had frozen during +the night, was slowly thawing on the canvas covers of guns and +searchlights, dripping from shrouds and yards and aerials. + +"Lord alive!" continued the Watchkeeper. "Haven't I been hopping round +this perishing quarterdeck since four a.m. keeping the Morning Watch? +If Tweedledee doesn't come and relieve me soon I shall die of frostbite +and boredom." The India-rubber Man was moving towards the hatchway. +"And if you're going along to the bathroom, for pity's sake see there's +some hot water left that I can sit and thaw in." + +In the meanwhile the Midshipmen had descended to the cabin-flat where +their chests occupied most of the available deck space. Flushed and +breathless with exercise, the majority proceeded to divest themselves +of their flannels and, girt with towels, made off for the bathroom. +One, however, flung himself panting on to his chest, and sprawled +partly across his own and partly on his neighbour's. + +"I swear this is a bit thick!" he gasped. "I'm not used to this sort +of frightfulness." He waved his legs in the air. "I shall get heart +disease. Anguis pec--pec---- What's it called?" + +"Peccavi," prompted his neighbour, slipping out of his clothes and +donning a great-coat in lieu of a dressing-gown. "Otherwise 'The ruddy +'eart-burn.' Just move your greasy head off my till. I want to get at +my razor." + +"That's the worst of these 'new brooms'"--the victim of heart trouble +surveyed his legs anxiously--"I know I've lost a couple of stone since +this physical training fiend joined. I don't suppose my people will +know me when I go home." + +"Well, you aren't likely to be going home for some time to come," said +another, a seraphic-faced nudity contemplating his biceps in the small +looking-glass that adorned the inside of his chest, "so I shouldn't +worry. I say, I'm sweating up a deuce of an arm on me. Shouldn't +wonder if I pulled off the Grand Fleet Light-weights next month," he +added modestly, "if this sort of thing goes on. I just mention it in +case any of you are thinking of putting your names in." He turned from +the glass, laughing. "Hullo, Mally, going to have a shave, old thing?" + +"Yes, if I can get at my razor---- Oh, Bosh, get off my +chest--sprawling all over my gear!" + +"I'm in a state of acute physical exhaustion. I feel tender and giddy. +I _know_ all this foul exercise is bad for me early in the morning." +The speaker sat up and juggled dexterously with a cake of soap, a +sponge and a tooth-brush. "I'm getting rather good at this---- My +word, look at Mally's shaving outfit. One would think he was a sort of +Esau--'stead of only having to shave once a blooming week!" + +"Are you going to shave, Mally?" queried a voice across the flat. +"Because I'm not sure I shouldn't be better for a bit of a scrape +myself. Can I have a rub at your razor after you?" + +"You can have it after me if you swear not to skylark with it," replied +the owner. "Only, last time I lent it to you, you shaved your beastly +leg----" + +"Only for practice," admitted the petitioner, advancing with a finger +and thumb caressing his chin. + +"Well it blunted it, anyhow. Come on, I'm going to the bathroom now." + +The Gunroom bathroom was situated in another flat, reached via the +aft-deck. Here about this hour an intermittent stream of figures in +quaint _négligé_ passed and repassed to their toilets. Inside the +bathroom itself song and the splashing of water drowned all other +sounds. The owner of the enlarged biceps was seated, fakir-wise, +cross-legged in one of the shallow, circular baths in a corner, bailing +water over himself from an empty cigarette tin. + +"Harcourt, old thing," said the shaving enthusiast, who had filled a +bath and dragged it alongside his friend, "did you mean what you said +just now about the boxing show--are you going to put your name down for +the Light-weights?" + +The fakir stopped crooning a little song to himself and nodded. "Yes, +I'm rather keen on it as a matter of fact. Standish saw me scrapping +with Green the other night and sent for me afterwards and told me to +get fit. I'm going to have a shot at it, I think. Wouldn't you?" + +His friend tested the temperature of the water in his bath with his +toe, and got in. "Yes, rather," he replied, and hesitated. "I'm going +in for it too," he added. + +Harcourt rose and reached for his towel. "_Are_ you, Billy?" For a +moment his eyes travelled over the other's slim form. "What a rag! We +may draw each other--anyhow we shall have to scrap if we get into the +semi-finals. Billy, I believe you'd bash me!" He towelled himself +vigorously. + +The other shook his head. "You beat me at Dartmouth. But I'm going to +have a jolly good shot at it, cully!" He looked up with his face +covered with soap-suds and they laughed into each others' eyes. + + * * * * * + +Breakfast in the Gunroom was, to employ a transatlantic colloquialism, +_some_ breakfast. + +There was porridge to start with and then a bloater, followed by hashed +mutton and cold ham ("for them as likes it," the Messman would +say--which meant he pressed it on nobody) and marmalade: perhaps an +apple or two to wind up with to the everlasting honour of the Vegetable +Products Committee who supplied them gratis to the Fleet. Then pipes +and cigarettes appeared from lockers, and the temporarily-closed +flood-gates of conversation reopened. The Wireless Press Message was +discussed and two experts in military strategy proceeded to demonstrate +with the aid of two cruet-stands, a tea-spoon, and the Worcester Sauce, +the precise condition of affairs on the Western Front. "Mark you," +said one generously, "I'm not criticising either Haig or Joffre. But +it seems to me that we should have pushed _here_"--and upset the +Worcester Sauce. + +This mishap to the Loos salient was in process of being righted when +the door opened and a short, square-shouldered figure, with a +wind-reddened face and eyes of a dark, dangerous blue, entered the +mess. He came in stamping his feet and blowing on his hands, calling +loudly for breakfast the while. "My, there's a good fug in here," he +observed appreciatively, and proceeded to divest himself of a duffle +coat, and a pair of night glasses which were slung round his neck in a +leather case. He stumped across to the table, dragging his legs in +heavy leather sea-boots rather wearily. + +"Am I hungry?" he demanded, insinuating himself with some difficulty +between the long form and the table, and sitting down. "Oh, no! +Nothing to speak of. Cold? Not a bit: only frozen stiff. Any sleep +last night? Rather! Nearly ten minutes. Porridge, please, and pass +the brown sugar." The remainder of his messmates appeared disposed to +return to strategical discussion. "Did we have any fun last night?" +continued the speaker, raising his voice slightly. "Well, nothing to +speak of. Only downed a Fritz." + +"_Downed_ one?" roared the Mess, galvanised suddenly into rapt interest +in the new-comer and all his works. + +"Yep. We were Outer Night Patrol last night. Me and Mouldy Jakes. He +does make me smile, that official." A plateful of porridge proceeded +to pass rapidly to its last resting place. + +"He _might_ have taken me," said one of the others wistfully. "You +don't belong to his Division or his turret or anything." + +"It was my turn. You went last time. But you missed something, I can +tell you!" + +"What d'you mean," said the Sub over the top of his paper. "Just cough +up the details and let your beastly breakfast wait." + +The Night Patroller extracted the backbone from a bloater with swift +dexterity. "Well," he continued, "it was very dark last night and +foggy in patches: rum night. Very little wind and no sea. We were +right outside and the Engineer sent up to say he thought there was +something foul of the propeller. So we stopped and investigated with a +boathook. There was a lot of weed and stuff fouling us. We were +playing about with it _mit_ boathook for nearly a quarter-of-an-hour, +and suddenly old Mouldy Jakes put up his head and sniffed about a bit +and muttered 'Baccy.'" + +"He's got a nose like a hawk," said the Midshipman of that officer's +Division with a tinge of pride in his voice. + +The Mess perforce had to possess its soul in patience while the +raconteur swiftly disposed of the bloater. + +"So I sniffed too, and I could smell it quite plain. We were lying +stern to the wind; 'sides it wasn't decent baccy like ours, but sort of +Scorp stuff, so we knew it wasn't one of our fellows smoking. Hashed +mutton, please; and another cup of coffee. It was pitch dark and for a +moment we couldn't see a thing. Then, suddenly, right on top of us +came a submarine! She was on the surface and there was a fellow on the +conning tower and a couple of figures aft. She must have been smelling +about on the surface having a smoke and recharging her batteries." + +The remainder of the Gunroom had crowded round the speaker, some +kneeling on the form with their elbows among the débris of breakfast, +others sat on the edge of the table hugging their knees. + +"My word, Matt," said one, his eyes dancing, "I bet you got cold feet." + +"Cold feet!" snorted the hero of the moment. "There wasn't time for +cold feet. It was too sudden. They just grazed past us, going very +slow, and there was a devil of a bobbery. I fancy they thought they +were properly in the _consommé_. A trap or something. Anyhow the two +braves aft lost their heads and jumped overboard, and the bird in the +conning tower disappeared like a Jack-in-the-box--properly rattled." + +"What price old Mouldy?" asked the listeners. "Utterly unmoved, I +suppose! Lord, I'd love to have seen him!" + +"Oh, bored stiff by the whole performance, of course. Still he did +make one wild leap for the gun and got off a round at point-blank +range. Hit her just below the conning tower. She must have been in +diving trim, because she went down like a stone, bubbling like an empty +soda-water bottle." + +"What about the Huns in the water?" demanded the enthralled Clerk. + +"We could only find one. The other must have got mixed up with the +submarine's propeller. The one we picked up was nearly done and +awfully surprised because we gave him dry clothes and hot drinks and a +smoke, and didn't spit in his eye or anything of that sort. Said their +officers always told them we illtreated our prisoners. Aren't they +Nature's little Nobs?" + +There was a little silence, each one busy with his own thoughts. +Finally one broke the silence, voicing the opinion of the rest: + +"Well," he ejaculated, "some people have all the blinking luck. I've +done about twenty night patrols since I've been up here and never seen +anything 'cept a porpoise." + +The Night Patroller lit a cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke with the +air of a man who had earned it. "You were at Suvla Bay and the landing +from the _River Clyde_," he retorted. "You can't have _every_ ruddy +thing in life." + + * * * * * + +A fine day in Ultima Thule--they were rare--was an occasion for +thankfulness and rejoicing. Directly after luncheon the members of +Gunroom and Wardroom made their way on deck to bask in the sun and +smoke contemplative post-prandial pipes in the lee of the after +superstructure. Forward, in amidships, the band was playing a slow +waltz and fifty or so couples from among the ship's company were +solemnly revolving to the music with expressions of melancholy +enjoyment peculiar to such exercise. + +"It's make-and-mend this afternoon," said the Senior Midshipman, +tilting his cap over his eyes and lazily watching the antics of a gull +volplaning against the light wind. He sat on the deck with his back +against the superstructure and his hands clasped round his knees. + +"It's a topping day, too," added Malison from his vantage astride the +coir-hawser reel. "Too good to waste onboard. The footer ground's +bagged--let's have a picnic in one of the cutters. Have tea ashore, +an' fry bangers over a fire." + +The project found favour generally. "We might ask one or two of the +Wardroom," suggested Harcourt. "Some of the cheery ones; Standish and +Thorogood and the Doc, say." + +"_And_ old Jakes," supplemented the Midshipman of that officer's +Division jealously. "I'd like to ask him. He loves picnics." + +Mouldy Jakes was included in the invitation list by general consent. +His half-humorous, resigned air of chronic boredom had a peculiar +attraction for all the Midshipmen; in the case of the Midshipman of his +turret it amounted to idolatry. + +"Go an' ask 'em, Harcourt," said the Senior Midshipman. "You're the +Blue-eyed Boy with the Wardroom. I'll go and tackle the Commander for +the cutter." + +"Then Bosh and I will go and ginger-up the Messman," said another, "and +get a basket packed. What shall we have for tea?" + +"Sloe-gin," promptly responded a tall, pale Midshipman with a slightly +freckled nose and sandy hair. "Sloe-gin and bangers.[1] And get +strawberry jam: see the Messman doesn't try and palm off any of his +beastly gooseberry stuff like he did last time. What about bacon and +eggs, and some tins of cocoa and milk, and a cake and some sardines----" + +"Wonk," interrupted the caterer, "we're only going to have tea ashore. +We aren't going to camp out for the week-end." + +"I tell you what," said Mouldy Jake's patron, "I'll bring my line and +we'll catch pollack and fry _them_ for tea too." + +"Well, I'm going to shift," said Malison, and the Committee of Supply +broke up and passed down below. + +Half an hour later the cutter, manned and provisioned, with the skiff +in tow, hoisted her foresail and sheered off from the after gangway. +The India-rubber Man, as Senior Officer of the expedition, took the +helm and banished the Young Doctor into the bows, where, to judge by +the ecstatic shouts of merriment that floated aft, his peculiar form of +wit was much appreciated. Thorogood, at the main sheet, with an old +deerstalker on his head and a pipe in his mouth, led the chorus in the +sternsheets. Mouldy Jakes had usurped the skiff, and having satisfied +himself that he was required to take no further part in the navigation +of the expedition, made himself comfortable in the bottom of the boat +and blinked at the sky through puffs of smoke from his pipe. + +He was followed into this voluntary exile by the Midshipman of his +Division, one Morton, who sat in the bows contemplating him +affectionately. + +Precisely what it was that inspired this apparently one-sided +attachment was never very apparent. The almost passionate loyalty and +affections of youth are hardy plants, thriving abundantly on the +scantiest soil. + +For a while only the drowsy swish of the water past the bottom of the +boat, and snatches of merriment or song drifting aft from the cutter, +broke the silence in the skiff. Then Mouldy Jakes's companion +apparently tired of this silent communion. + +"Sir," he said, "would you like to fish?" + +"No," said Mouldy Jakes. + +His host proceeded to unwind his line. "Do you mind if I do?" he +enquired. + +"No," was the reply. + +The Midshipman watched his line in silence for a little while. "Do you +think you sank that submarine last night?" he asked presently. + +Mouldy Jakes closed his eyes and gave a grunt with an affirmative +intonation. + +"It must have been a topping show. Weren't you awfully bucked, sir?" + +Another grunt. + +"I suppose you didn't get a wink of sleep all night?" + +A vague confirmatory noise. + +"You must be jolly tired, sir. Wouldn't you like to sleep a bit now, +sir?" + +"Yes." + +"Right ho, sir. You can carry on and have a jolly good caulk. I'm +going to fish, and I'll call you when we get to the island where we're +going to land.... Is your head quite comfortable?" + +Silence reigned in the skiff. + +The cutter had passed beyond the outskirts of the Fleet, and the +decorum required of the occupants of a Service boat in such +surroundings no longer ruled their behaviour. They sang and shouted +for sheer joy of bellowing, full-lunged, across the untrammelled water. +No one whose life is not spent in the narrow confines of a man-of-war, +walking paths sternly ruled by Naval Discipline, can realise the +intoxicating effect of such an emancipation. The mysterious workings +of the Midshipman-mind found full play on these occasions, as they +tumbled about in the bottom of the boat in the unfettered enjoyment of +a whole-hearted "scrap." If you have ever seen young foxes at play, +buffeting each other, yelping with simulated anguish, nuzzling +endearments half savage and half in play, you have an idea of the +bottom of a cutter full of Midshipmen proceeding on a picnic. It was +an embodiment of youth triumphant, shouting with laughter at the Jest +of Life. + +"Where shall we go?" asked Standish, smiling, during a lull when the +crew sat panting and flushed with exertion, grinning at each other over +the tops of the thwarts. + +"Any blooming where," shouted Thorogood. "As long as it is out of +sight of the Fleet. I feel I've seen enough of the Silent Navy for an +hour or two." Then raising his voice he chanted: + +"_Put me upon an island where the girls are few..._" + +"Right," retorted the Indian-rubber Man. "We'll go round this little +headland. Ready about! Check the fore sheet! Come aft out of the +bows, Pills, you clown, unless you want us to miss stays." + +"I don't want to go to an island," cried the Surgeon plaintively, +"where the girls are few." He surveyed the heather-crowned islets +surrounding them on all sides, the lonely haunts of cormorants and +black-backed gulls. "I'm all for houris and sirens and whatnots----" + +The foresail swung across and knocked him into the bottom of the boat. + +"You frail Ulysses!" exclaimed Thorogood, as they set sail on the new +course. "You aren't to be trusted in these populous parts. We must +lash you to the mast!" + +"And stop his ears with cotton-wool," said a Midshipman whose +acquaintance with the classics was still a recent, if sketchy +acquisition. + +A party set off into the bows to put the proposal into immediate +execution, but the imminence of land and a shout from the helmsman +arrested them in their purpose: + +"Down foresail. Top up mainsail!" The cutter, with the skiff towing +peacefully astern, glided into a little bay where miniature cliffs, +some twenty feet in height, rose from a narrow shale-strewn beach. The +anchor plashed overboard. + +"_Here we are, here we are, here we are again!_" carolled the Surgeon +lustily. "Come alongside, skiff! The landing of the Lancashire +Fusiliers is about to commence under a withering fire!" + +A letter received that morning from a soldier brother who had taken +part in that epic of human gallantry had apparently inspired the Young +Doctor. He pointed ahead with a dramatic gesture at the cliffs. +"Yonder are the Turks! See, they fly, they fly!" A pair of agitated +cormorants, sunning themselves on the rocks, flew seaward with +outstretched necks. "Lead on, brave lads, and I will follow!" + +The skiff came bumping alongside, and Mouldy Jakes, galvanised into +wakefulness by the confusion and laughter, found himself inextricably +entangled in the fishing-line, holding a kettle that someone had thrust +upon him in one hand and a frying-pan in the other. Half a dozen +partly clad forms, followed by the Doctor, flung themselves headlong +into the skiff and made for the shore. The bows grated on the shingle +and they sprang out. + +"For drill purposes only," explained the Surgeon breathlessly, "we are +Turks!" + +Under his direction they proceeded to collect pebbles. "A withering +volley will accordingly be opened on the Lancashire Fusiliers." + +Despite a heavy fire of pebbles, the landing was ultimately effected; +the invaders abandoned their trousers and floundered gallantly through +the bullet-torn shallows. Ensued a complete rout of the Turks, who +were pursued inland across the heather with triumphant shouts and the +corpse of a seagull, found on the beach, hurled after them from the +point of a piece of driftwood. + +The evicted snipers eventually returned with their caps full of +plovers' eggs, to find a fire of bleached twigs blazing and sausages +frizzling in the frying-pan. They were handed mugs of hot tea. + +In the phraseology of chroniclers of Sunday-school treats, "ample +justice was done to the varied repast." Then it was discovered that +the tide was falling, and a hasty re-embarkation followed. + +Sails were hoisted, the anchor weighed, and the cutter, with the empty +skiff in tow, headed for the West, where the sun was already setting in +a great glory of gold. + +The brief warmth of a Northern spring day had passed, and, as they +rounded the promontory and the Fleet hove in sight once more, duffle +coats and mufflers were donned and a bottle of sloe-gin uncorked. + +"Mug-up!" cried the Sub. "Mug-up, and let's get 'appy and chatty." +They crowded together in the stern-sheets for warmth, and presently +Thorogood started "John Brown's Body Lies A-mouldering in the Grave," +without which no properly conducted picnic can come to a fitting +conclusion. The purple shadows deepened in the far-off valleys ashore, +and anon stole out across the water, enfolding the anchored Fleet into +the bosom of another night of a thousand vigils. + +It was dusk when they reached the outlying Cruisers, and nearly dark +when the first ship in the Battle Fleet hailed them. Then hail +answered hail as one Battleship after another rose towering above them +into the darkling sky, and one by one passed into silence astern. + +Silence also had fallen on the singers. Seen thus from an open +boat under the lowering wings of night, there was something +awe-inspiring--even to these who lived onboard them--in the stupendous +fighting outlines limned against the last of the light. Complete +darkness reigned on board, but once a dog barked, and the strains of an +accordion drifted across the water as reminders that each of these +menacing mysteries was the habitation of their fellow-men. A tiny +pin-point of light winked from a yard-arm near by to another pin-point +in the Cruiser line: Somebody was answering an invitation to dinner at +7.45 p.m., with many thanks; then, reminder of sterner things, a +searchlight leaped out spluttering over their heads, and swept to and +fro across the sky like the paint-brush of a giant. + +A half-drowsy Midshipman in the bows of the cutter watched the message +of hospitality blinking through space; he consulted the luminous dial +on his wrist. "H'm," he observed to his companion, "I thought it was +getting on for dinner-time. Funny how quickly one gets hungry again." + +A hail challenged them from the darkness, and a towering outline loomed +familiarly ahead. + +"Aye, aye!" shouted the voice of the India-rubber Man from the stern, +adding in lower tones, "Boathook up forward. Fore halliards in +hand...." + +"Home again!" said another voice in the darkness. "And so the long day +wears on..." + + * * * * * + +Dinner in the Gunroom was over. One by one the occupants became +engrossed in their wonted evening occupations and amusements. + +"Mordaunt," said the sandy-haired Midshipman, rising and opening the +gramophone, "would you like to hear George Robey?" + +The officer addressed, who was sitting at the table apparently in the +throes of literary composition, raised his head. "No," he replied, "I +wouldn't; I'm writing a letter. 'Sides I've heard that record at least +seven hundred and eighty-one times already." + +"Can't help it," retorted the musical enthusiast, winding the handle of +the instrument. "_I_ think he's perfectly priceless!" He set the +needle, stepped back a pace and stood beaming appreciatively into the +vociferous trumpet while the song blared forth. + +"Reminds me," said Harcourt, laying down a novel and rising from the +corner of the settee where he had curled himself, "I must write to my +young sister for her birthday. Lend me a bit of your notepaper, Billy." + +His friend complied with the request without raising his eyes. "How +d'you spell 'afford'?" he enquired. + +"Two f's," replied Harcourt. "'Least I think so. Can I have a dip at +your ink?" + +"I thought it was two, but it doesn't look right, somehow." The two +pens scratched in unison. + +Matthews, the Midshipman of the previous Night Patrol, had stretched +himself on an adjacent settee and fallen asleep immediately after +dinner. + +Lettigne, otherwise known as "Bosh," amused himself by juggling with a +banana, two oranges and a walnut, relics of his dessert. His +performance was being lazily watched by the Sub from the depths of the +arm-chair which he had drawn as near to the glowing stove as the heat +would allow. It presently attracted the notice of two other Midshipmen +who had finished a game of picquet and were casting about them for a +fresh distraction. This conversion of edible objects into juggling +paraphernalia presently moved one to protest. + +"Why don't you eat that banana, Bosh, instead of chucking it about?" he +enquired. + +"'Cause I can't," said the exponent of legerdemain. + +"Why not?" queried the other. + +"Too full already," was the graceful response. "I'm just +waiting--waiting till the clouds roll by, so to speak." + +The two interlocutors eyed each other speculatively. + +"Did you have any dessert?" asked one. + +"No," was the sorrowful reply. "My extra-bill's up." + +Thereupon they rose together and fell straightway upon the juggler. An +equal division of the spoil was made while they sat upon his prostrate +form, and eaten to the accompaniment of searching prods into their +victim's anatomy. + +"Bosh, you ought to be jolly grateful to us, really. You'd probably +have appendicitis if we let you eat all this--phew! Mally, just feel +here.... Isn't he a hog! ..." + +"Just like a blooming drum," replied the other, prodding judicially. + +Over their heads the tireless voice of the gramophone trumpeted forth +its song. The Sub who had kept the Middle Watch the night before, +slept the sleep of the tired just. The door opened and a Junior +Midshipman entered hot-foot. "Letters," he shouted. "Any letters to +be censored? The mail's closing tomorrow morning." + +"Yes," replied the two correspondents at the table, simultaneously +bringing their letters to a close. + +"Hurry up, then," said the messenger. "The Padre's waiting to censor +them. He sent me along to see if there were any more." + +Mordaunt folded his letter and placed it in an envelope. "Got a stamp, +Harcourt? I've run out." He extended a penny. + +Harcourt looked up, pen in mouth, thumping his wet sheet with the +blotting paper. "In my locker--I'll get you one in a second." + +"Oh, do buck up," wailed the messenger. "I want to turn in, an' the +Padre's waiting." + +"All right," retorted Harcourt. He rose to his feet. "I forgot: +little boys lose their roses if they don't get to bed early. Billy, +shove that letter in an envelope for me, to save time, while I get the +stamp." His friend complied with the request and picked up his pen to +address his own epistle. As he did so the prostrate juggler, with a +sudden, spasmodic recrudescence of energy, flung his two assailants off +him and struggled to a sitting position. They were on him again like +wolves, but as they bore him prostrate to the deck he clutched wildly +at a corner of the table-cloth. + +The next moment the conflict was inextricably involved with the +table-cloth, letters, note-paper, envelopes and ink descending upon the +combatants in a cascade. + +"You clumsy owls," roared Harcourt, returning from his locker. "Now, +where's my letter...." He searched among the débris. + +"I say, do buck up," wailed the sleepy voice on the threshold. + +"Buck up?" echoed Harcourt. "Buck up! How the devil can I buck +up--ah, here we are." He picked up an envelope, glanced carelessly +under the still open flap and sat down to address it. "Got yours, +Billy? Here's the stamp." + +"Yes," replied the other, grovelling in the darkness under the table. +"This is it." He reappeared with a letter in his hand. + +"The Padre----" again began the impatient envoy. + +"All right--all right!" Mordaunt hurriedly affixed the stamp and +addressed the envelope without looking at the contents. "Here you +are," he said, holding it out. The messenger departed hastily. + +The bang of the door awoke the Sub. + +"Now, then," he said. "Enough of this. Switch off that cursed +gramophone. Get up off the deck. Mop that ink up and square off the +table-cloth. Knock off scrapping, you three hooligans." + +The hooligans obeyed reluctantly, and sat panting and dishevelled on +the settee. By degrees the Mess resumed its tranquillity. + +Harcourt stretched his slim form and yawned sleepily. "I'm going to +turn in now. And to-morrow know all men that I start training." + +"That's right," said Lettigne, still panting and adjusting his +disordered garments. "Nothing like being really fit--ready to go +anywhere an' do anything--that's my motto." He rang the bell and +ordered a bottle of ginger beer. + + + +[1] Tinned sausages. A delicacy peculiar to Gunrooms of the Fleet. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +UNCLE BILL + +Sir William Thorogood rose from the table on which lay a confusion of +papers, drawings and charts. He walked across the cabin to the tiled +fireplace, selected a cigar from his case, and lit it with precise care. + +"You're right," he said. "You've put your finger on the weak spot. No +one in Whitehall saw it, and they're seamen. I didn't see it, and--and +I'm called a scientist." He made an imperceptible inclination of his +head towards his companion as if to convey a compliment. + +The other occupant of the broad cabin smiled a little grimly. "It's a +question of actual experience," he said. "Experience of this particular +form of warfare, and the means of meeting it hitherto at our disposal." + +He pencilled some figures on a piece of paper and studied them with +knitted brows. + +"It's a pity," he said presently. "You're on the brink of the most +stupendous discovery of our day. The submarine was a wonderful +invention, and there's no limit to the possibilities of its +development--or abuse. Until an effective counter can be devised it +remains a very terrible menace to civilisation in the hands of an +unscrupulous belligerent." + +Sir William smoked in silence. His thin, aristocratic face, and his +level grey eyes, had a look of fatigue. "I was particularly glad to +avail myself of your invitation," he said. "I wanted practical +experience of the conditions in the North Sea--weather and visibility. +And, later on, in the North Atlantic. I'm going over to Ireland next +month." His tired eyes followed the blue smoke curling upwards. "Of +course, the experiments we tried down South answered all right for short +distances. That's what rather deceived us. They were harbour trials, no +more. We want something more exhaustive than that. And, as you say, +there's the pull of the tides to consider.... Confound the tide!" + +His companion smiled. "That's what Canute said. Or words to that +effect. But it didn't help matters much." + +"Quite," replied Sir William dryly. "Well, I should like to take a +patrol boat and one of our submarines for a day or two and test that new +theory--to-morrow if I may. And--while I think of it--I have promised a +young nephew of mine to dine with him to-night in his ship, if it in no +way inconveniences you?" + +The other nodded, and, reaching out his hand, pressed the button of an +electric bell beside his desk. + + * * * * * + +It was the hour preceding dinner, and the majority of the members of the +Wardroom had congregated in the ante-room to discuss sherry and the day's +affairs before descending to their cabins to change. It was a cheerful +gathering, as the hour and the place betokened, and the usual mild chaff +flowed to and fro in its mysteriously appointed channels. + +In Naval communities, as in most others where men are segregated from +wider intercourse by a common mode of life and purpose, each one occupies +the place designed for him by Destiny for the smooth working of the +whole. These types are peculiar to no trade or profession. A gathering +of farmers or elders of the Church, or even Christy Minstrels, would, if +thrown together for a sufficient period of time, and utterly dependent on +one another for daily intercourse, fall into the places allotted to each +by temperament and heredity. Each little community would own a wit and a +butt; the sentimentalist and the cynic. The churl by nature would appear +through some veneer of manner, if only to bring into relief the finer +qualities of his fellows; lastly, and most surely, one other would jingle +a merciful cap and bells, and mingle motley with the rest. + +The First Lieutenant had just come down from the upper-deck, and stood +warming his hands by the fire. Big-boned, blue-eyed, health and vitality +seemed to radiate from his kindly, forceful personality. Of all the +officers on board "Jimmy the One" was, with perhaps the exception of the +Captain, most beloved by the men. A seaman to the fingertips, slow to +wrath and clean of speech, he had the knack of getting the last ounce out +of tired men without driving or raising his voice. Working cables on the +forecastle in the cold and snowy darkness, when men's faculties grow +torpid with cold, and their safety among the grinding cables depends more +upon the alert supervision of the First Lieutenant than the mere instinct +for self-preservation, "Jimmy the One" was credited with powers allied to +those of the high Gods. "'Tween decks," where the comfort and +cleanliness of close on eleven hundred men was mainly his affair, they +abused, loved and feared him with whole-hearted affection. His large +football-damaged nose smelt out dirt as a Zulu witch-doctor smells out +magic. The majority of the vast ship's company--seamen ratings, at all +events--he knew by name. He also presided over certain of the lower-deck +amusements, and, at the bi-weekly cinema shows, studied their tastes in +the matter of Charlie Chaplin and the Wild West with the discrimination +of a lover choosing flowers for his mistress. + +His own personal amusements were few. He admitted possessing three books +which he read and re-read in rotation: "Peter Simple," "Alice in +Wonderland," and a more recent discovery, Owen Wister's "Virginian." A +widowed mother in a Yorkshire dower house was the only relative he was +ever heard to refer to, and for her benefit every Sunday afternoon he sat +down for an hour, as he had since schooldays, and wrote a boyish, +detailed chronicle of his doings during the past week. + +The two watch-keeping Lieutenants sat one on each arm of the deep-seated +chesterfield opposite the fire. They were the Inseparables of the Mess, +knit together in that curious blend of antagonistic and sympathetic +traits of character which binds young men in an austere affection passing +the love of woman. One was short and stout, the other tall and lean; an +illustration in the First Lieutenant's edition of "Alice in Wonderland" +supplied them with their nicknames, which they accepted from the first +without criticism or demur. + +The Fleet Surgeon sat between them cleaning a pipe with a collection of +seagull's feather gathered for the purpose on the golf links ashore. He +was thin, a grey-haired, silent man. His face, in repose, was that of a +deliberate thinker whose thoughts had not led him to an entirely happy +goal. Yet his smile when amused had a quality of gratitude to the +jester, not altogether without pathos. He had a slightly cynical +demeanour, a bitter tongue, and a curiously sympathetic, almost tender +manner with the sick. He was professedly a fierce woman-hater, and when +ashore passed children quickly with averted eyes. + +Of a different type was the Paymaster, sunny as a schoolboy, +irresponsible in leisure hours as the youngest member of the Mess. +Perhaps there had been a time when he had not found life an altogether +laughing matter. He had an invalid wife; his means were small, and most +of his life had been spent at sea. But misfortune seemed to have but +tossed a challenge to his unquenchable optimism and faith in the mercy of +God. He had picked up the gage with a smile, flung it back with a laugh, +and with drawn blade joined the gallant band of those who strive +eternally to defend the beleaguered Citadel of Human Happiness. + +Others came and went among the gathering; the Engineer Commander, +fiercely bearded and moustached, who cherished an inexplicable belief +that a studied soldierly accent and bearing helped him in his path +through life. The Major, clean-shaven and philosophic; the Gunnery +Lieutenant, preoccupied with his vast responsibilities, a +seaman-scientist with a reputation in the football-field. The Torpedo +Lieutenant, quiet, gentle-mannered, fastidious in his dress and not given +to overmuch speech. The Engineer-Lieutenant, whose outlook on life +alternated between moods of fierce hilarity and brooding melancholy, +according to the tenour of a correspondence with a distracting Red Cross +nursing sister exposed to the perils of caring for good-looking military +officers in the plains of Flanders. Lastly, the Captain of Marines; he +was the musician of the Mess, much in demand at sing-songs; editor, +moreover, of the Wardroom magazine, a periodical whose humour was of a +turn mercifully obscure to maiden aunts. A first-class cricketer and +racquet-player, a student of human nature with a tolerance for the +failings of others that suggested a strain of Latin blood, and a Marine +with an almost passionate pride in the great traditions of his Corps. + +Such were among the occupants of the anteroom when Thorogood entered the +crowded room and crossed over to the door leading to the Wardroom where +the Marine waiters were laying the table. + +"Tell the Messman I've got a guest to dinner," said Thorogood to the +Corporal of the Wardroom servants. + +The Young Doctor, who was leaning against the overmantel of the stove +warming himself, crossed over to Thorogood with an expression of +portentous solemnity on his face. + +"James," he said, and laid a hand on the other's shoulder, "before you +get busy on the wassail-bowl, my lad, I should like to remind you that +the boat's crew will commence training for the Regatta at 7 A.M. +to-morrow. No fatheads wanted. Enough said." + +The Gunnery Lieutenant looked up from a game of draughts with Double-O +Gerrard, the Assistant Paymaster. "Who've you got dining with you, +Jimmy?" he asked. The introduction of "new blood" into a Mess, even for +the evening, is generally a matter of interest to the inmates. + +"An old uncle of mine," was the reply. "He signalled from the Flagship +that he was coming to dinner. I don't know what he's doing up here." + +Mouldy Jakes, who was sitting on an arm of the sofa watching the game of +draughts, looked across at Thorogood. + +"Sir William?" he asked. "Is that man of mystery up here? What's he up +to?" + +"Don't know," replied Thorogood. "Dirty work, I suppose." + +The Young Doctor assumed an expression of rapture. "What!" he cried, "my +old college chum Sir William!" Then with a swift change of mimicry he +bent into a senile pose with nodding head and shaking fingers, mumbling +at his lips: + +"Ah! Ah!" he wheezed, "how time flies! I mind the day when he and I +were lads together--hee-hee--brave lads ... Eton and Christ Church +together----" He broke off into a decrepit chuckle. + +"Dry up, Pills, you ass," cried the Torpedo Lieutenant, laughing. "You +aren't a bit funny--in fact, I'm not sure you aren't rather bad form." + +"Bad form?" echoed the First Lieutenant. "Let us see now. What's the +penalty for bad form, Pay? I've forgotten." + +"To be devoured by lions," said the Paymaster calmly, with an eye on the +sofa where Garm, the bull-terrier, sprawled as usual. + +"That's right," said the First Lieutenant, "so it is: devoured of lions." + +The next moment the Doctor was tripped up into the depths of the sofa, +the bull-terrier, thus rudely awakened from slumber, dumped on top of +him, and his struggles stifled by the bodies of the Paymaster and First +Lieutenant. "Eat him, Garm--Hi! good beastie! Chew his nose, lick his +collar...!" + +The great bull-terrier, accustomed to being the instrument of such +summary execution, entered into the game with zest, and sprawling across +the Surgeon's chest with one massive paw on his face, nuzzled and +slavered in an abandonment of affectionate gusto. + +"Oh!--oh!--oh!--pah!--phew!" The victim writhed and spluttered protests. +"Dry up--Garm, you great donkey! Piff!--you're--smothering--me--beast! +Ugh! my collar--clean--no offence--Jimmy, I 'pologise--lemme get up ... +Faugh!" + +In the midst of the uproar the door opened and the Midshipman of the +Watch appeared. + +"Mr. Thorogood, sir," he called. "Someone to see you." + +The group on the sofa broke up. The Surgeon sat up panting and wiping +his face. The dog jumped to the deck and accompanied Thorogood across to +the door, wagging a friendly tail. + +Sir William Thorogood, hat in hand, with his cloak over his arm, entered +the ante-room. His eyeglass fell from his eye. + +"Hullo, Uncle Bill," exclaimed his nephew. "You're early--nice and +early--we've just started training for the Regatta and we're straffing +the coxswain by way of a start! Er--Staff Surgeon Tucker, Sir William +Thorogood." + +The Surgeon advanced with a rather embarrassed grin and shook hands with +the eminent scientist. + +"I fancy I knew your father once," said the latter smiling. "He held the +chair of Comparative Anatomy--we were at college together--bless me!--a +good many years ago now." He stood smiling down at Pills from his lean +height. + +The Mess chortled at the Surgeon's discomfiture. Thorogood turned to the +Commander who had just then entered. "This is Commander Hornby," he +said, and introduced the two men. "There's Mouldy--you remember him?" +Mouldy Jakes came over and shook hands gravely. "And this is the rest of +the Mess." He included the remainder with a wave of his hand, and Sir +William acknowledged the informal general introduction with the grave, +smiling self-possession of the perfectly bred Englishman. + +"Now," said his nephew, "what about a cocktail, Uncle Bill?" + +"Yes," said Mouldy Jakes, sharing with his friend the responsibility of +entertaining this eminent guest. "We've got rather a good brand--fizzy +ones. Do you a power of good, sir!" + +Sir William laughed. "Thank you," he said, "but fizzy cocktails and I +came to the parting of the ways more years ago than I care to remember. +Perhaps I may be allowed to join you in a glass of sherry....?" + +"Rather," said his host, and gave the order. "Well, Uncle Bill," he +said, "what brings you up to Ultima Thule and on board the Flagship?" + +The Scientist helped himself to a biscuit from the tray on a little table +near the door. "I'm staying with--with an old friend for a few days, for +a change of air," he said. He took the proffered glass of sherry and +sipped it appreciatively. "May I congratulate you on your excellent +sherry?" + +"It's not bad," said Mouldy Jakes. "I'm the wine caterer," he added +modestly. + +At this juncture dinner was announced and they passed through into the +long Wardroom. + +Shaded electric lights hung down above the table that traversed the +length of the Mess. A number of ornamental pieces of silver and trophies +adorned the centre of the table and winked and glistened against the dark +mahogany. Slips of white napery ran down on either side, on which the +glasses, silver and cutlery lay. They took their places, the +presidential hammer tapped, and the Chaplain, rising, offered brief +thanks. Immediately after a buzz of conversation broke out generally. + +Sir William, on the right of the President, indicated the glittering +trophies. "I see you keep your plate on board," he said, smiling, "even +in war." + +The Commander laughed. "Well," he said, "all these things we actually +won ourselves. There's a lot more stuff--the things that belong to the +ship itself, one commission as much as another, and those we landed. +Then, if we get sunk, successive ships bearing our name will carry them, +you see ... yes, half a glass, please. But all you see here we won at +battle practice just before the war, boat-racing and so on.... +Incidentally we hope to win the Squadron Regatta this year. That big one +over there was from the passengers of a burning ship we rescued.... If +we're sunk they may as well go down with us; at least, that's how we look +at it. It is only in keeping with our motto, after all." + +He pushed across a silver menu-holder, bearing the ship's crest and motto +on a scroll beneath it. The guest picked it up and examined it. "What +we hold we hold," he read. "Yes, I see. It's not a bad interpretation." + +Sir William looked round the table at the laughing, animated faces--many +of them little more than boys seen through the long perspective of his +own years. + +The Chaplain was having "his leg hauled." The joke was obscure, and +concerned an episode of bygone days which appeared to be within the +intimate recollection of at least half the number seated round the table. + +The other half were demanding enlightenment, and in the laughter and +friendly mischief on certain faces Sir William read an affectionate, +mysterious freemasonry apparently shared by all. + +For a moment he leaned back, contemplating in imagination the scores of +great ships surrounding them on all sides, invisible in the night: in +each Wardroom there was doubtless a similar cheerful gathering beneath +the shaded electric lights. Musing thus, glancing from face to face, and +listening, half uncomprehending, to the laughing jargon, he glimpsed for +an instant the indefinable Spirit of the Fleet. Each of these +communities, separated by steel and darkness from the other, shared it. +It stretched back into a past of unforgotten memories, linking one and +all in a brotherhood that compassed the waters of the earth, and bore +their traditions with unfailing hands across the hazard of the future. + +The meal drew to a close and the decanters went slowly round. Mouldy +Jakes, from his seat opposite the President, was attempting to catch Sir +William's eye. His nephew intercepted and interpreted the +gesticulations. "Mouldy's recommending the Madeira, Uncle Bill," said +his nephew; "he evidently feels that his reputation as wine caterer is at +stake after your comments on the sherry!" + +Sir William laughed and filled his glass accordingly. + +Obedient to a signal conveyed to the Bandmaster by a Marine waiter, the +band in the flat outside came suddenly to a stop. + +Down came the President's hammer, and the name of the King preceded the +raising of glasses. Then the violins outside resumed their whimpering +melody; coffee followed a second circulation of the decanters, and +presently the smoke of cigars and cigarettes began to eddy across the +polished mahogany. + +A few minutes later the Master-at-Arms entered the Wardroom, and stepping +up to the Commander's chair, reported something in a low voice. The +Commander turned sideways to the guest of the evening. "Will you excuse +me if I leave you?" he said. "I have to go the rounds." And rising from +the table left a gap at Sir William's side. Intimate conversation +between uncle and nephew, hitherto impracticable, was now possible. + +"How's Cecily, Uncle Bill?" asked James. "Which reminds me," he added, +"that I met Armitage when I was coming back from leave." + +Sir William removed his cigar and contemplated the pale ash with +inscrutable eyes. + +"I heard from Armitage," he replied. "Did you by any chance meet his +companion on the journey up?" + +James shook his head. "No, I only saw Armitage for a moment, and that +was in the darkness at the rail-head. But you haven't told me how Cecily +is." + +"She wants to go to America," replied his uncle. + +"America!" echoed his nephew. "Why?" + +"To stay with an old school friend. It seems she wants to go over for a +Newport season." + +"But," said James and paused, "are you going to let her go, Uncle Bill?" + +"She says she's going," was her guardian's reply. + +James smoked in silence for a moment. + +"But Newport," he said. "Where on earth did Cecily develop a taste for +that sort of life?" + +"Read about it in a book, I fancy," said Sir William. + +"But it isn't the sort of thing I can imagine appealing to Cecily in the +least," objected her cousin. "I know what Cecily likes--pottering about +in old tweeds with a dog, sketching and fishing. I can't see her at +Bailey's Beach surf-bathing with millionaires in the family diamonds. +Besides, what about her war work--her Hospital Supply Depot?" + +Sir William made no answer. + +"Is she unhappy about anything?" pursued James. "Has Armitage been +making love to her? I know he used to follow her about like a sick dog, +but I didn't know it upset her." + +Sir William smiled. "No," he said, "I shouldn't have said so either. +But I don't claim any profound insight into the feminine mind. All I +know is that she looks rather pale, and she has grown uncommonly quiet. +At times she has restless moods of rather forced gaiety. But the reason +for it all, I'm afraid, is beyond me." + +"Do you remember d'Auvergne?" asked his nephew suddenly. "Podgie +d'Auvergne. He spent a summer leave with us once, and he used to come up +to town a good deal from Whale Island when he was there. Do you think +Cecily is in love with him?" + +"Bless me," said Sir William helplessly, "I don't know. I never remember +her saying so. Do you think that would account for--for her present +mood? Women are such curious beings----" + +"I know he's fearfully gone on her," said James, "but he lost a foot +early in the war. He hasn't been near her since." + +"Why not?" asked the Scientist vaguely. + +"Oh, because--because he's fearfully sensitive about it. And he's +frightfully in love with her. You see, a thing like that tells +enormously when a fellow's in love." + +"Does it?" enquired Sir William. "Well, granted that your theory is +correct, I fail to see what I am to do. I can't kidnap this young man +and carry him to my house like the alien visitor you once brought to +disturb my peaceful slumbers." + +"Ah," said James, "Crabpots!" He chuckled retrospectively. + +"If he has really developed a neurotic view of his injury, as you imply," +continued the older man, "it's no use my inviting him, because he would +only refuse to come." + +"You'll have to work it somehow," replied his nephew. "Sea voyages +aren't safe enough just now--we'd never forgive ourselves if we let +Cecily go and anything happened to her--or Podgie either," he added +grimly. + +By twos and threes the members of the Mess had risen from the table and +drifted into the ante-room to play bridge, or to their cabins, there to +write letters, read, or occupy themselves in wood-carving and kindred +pursuits. At a small table in the comer of the long Mess the officers of +the Second Dog Watch had finished a belated meal, and were yarning in low +voices over their port. + +James and his uncle alone remained seated at the long table. + +"Well," said the former, "let's move on, Uncle Bill. Would you like a +rubber of bridge?" + +"I can play bridge in London," replied his guest, rising. "No, Jim, I +think I'd like to take this opportunity of paying a visit to the Gunroom. +When you are my age you'll find a peculiar fascination about youth and +its affairs. Do you think they'd object to my intrusion?" + +"They'd be awfully bucked," said James. "Come along." As they passed +out of the door they met the Marine postman entering with his arms full +of letters and papers. "Hullo," he continued, "here's the mail--you'll +see a Gunroom devouring its letters: rather like a visit to the Zoo about +feeding-time!" + +They came to the door of the Gunroom, and James, opening it, motioned his +guest to enter. One end of the table resembled a bee swarm: a babel of +voices sounded as those nearest the pile of letters shouted the names of +the addressees and tossed the missives back over their heads. + +The two men stood smiling and unobserved in the doorway until the +distribution was complete. Then they were seen, and the Sub advanced to +extend the hospitality of his realm. + +"Kedgeree," said James, "this is my uncle. He's getting bored with the +Wardroom and I've brought him along here." The Sub laughingly shook +hands, and the inmates in his immediate vicinity gathered round with the +polite air of a community of whom something startling was expected. + +"Won't you sit down, sir?" asked one, drawing forward the battered wicker +arm-chair. "It's all right as long as you don't lean back--but if you do +we must prop it against the table." He suited the action to the words, +and the guest sat down rather gingerly. + +"Won't you have something to drink?" queried Kedgeree. "Whisky and soda +or something?" + +Sir William smilingly declined. + +"Would you care to hear the gramophone?" queried the champion of that +particular form of entertainment. "We've got some perfectly priceless +George Robey ones--have you ever heard 'What there was, was Good?'" He +moved towards the instrument. + +"Never," said Sir William, taking advantage of the support afforded by +the table and leaning back, "but nothing would give me greater pleasure." + +The disk had no sooner commenced to revolve when Lettigne advanced with a +soda-water bottle, a corkscrew and half a lemon, collected at random from +the sideboard. + +"I don't know if you like watching a bit of juggling," he said shyly, and +began to throw into the air and catch his miscellany, while the trumpet +of the gramophone proclaimed that "What there was, was Good," in +stentorian, brazen shouts. + +Sir William screwed his eyeglass tighter into his eye. "Remarkable!" he +said warmly. "A remarkably deft performance! Capital! Capital!" + +The Gunroom eyed one another anxiously. It was only a question of +moments before the perspiring Bosh smashed something; the gramophone +record was palpably cracked; their powers of entertainment were rapidly +reaching their climax. Then came a diversion. The door opened and the +Midshipman of the Watch entered. + +"The Flagship's barge has called for you, sir," he said. + +The gramophone stopped as if by magic, and the overheated juggler caught +and retained the soda-water bottle, the corkscrew and the half lemon with +a gasp of relief. + +Sir William rose regretfully and held out his hand. "I have to thank you +all for a very delightful quarter of an hour," he said, smiling, and took +his departure amid polite murmurs of farewell, followed by James. Proof +of his appreciation of the entertainment reached them a week later in the +form of an enormous plum cake, and was followed thereafter at regular +intervals by similar bounty. + +Lettigne sat down and wiped his forehead. "Phew!" he said when the door +had closed behind the visitors. "Who was that old comic? I didn't catch +his name." + +"Sir William Thorogood," replied another. "He's full of grey-matter." +He tapped his forehead, and stepping across to the common bookshelf +indicated the back of a text book on advanced mechanics. "That's one of +his little efforts," he said. + +Lettigne followed the other's finger. "Good night!" he ejaculated. +"Have I been giving a display of my unequalled talents for the benefit of +the man who has caused me more sleepless nights than Euclid himself? +Here is poor old George Robey been shouting himself hoarse too----" + +"And I haven't even looked at my mail yet," said Harcourt, drawing an +unopened letter from his pocket. He slit the envelope and sat down in +the vacated arm-chair. It was from his sister at school in Eastbourne, +and enclosed another written in a vaguely familiar hand. Boy like he +read the enclosure first: + + +DEAR FATHER [it ran],--I have just put my name down for the boxing +championship, and I'll do my best to win, because I know how awfully keen +you are. All the same, I think it's a pity you took up that bet with +Harcourt's father at the club. He probably can afford to lose and you +can't. There are lots of things that Mother wants that ten pounds would +buy. Besides, Harcourt is my best friend, and if we both get into the +finals it would be beastly and like fighting for money. I wish you +hadn't told me. I must end now. With love to Mother and Dick. In +haste. Your loving son, + +BILLY. + + +Harcourt, grown suddenly rather pale, picked up his sister's letter and +read with puzzled brows: + + +DEAR HARRY,--When I opened your last letter I found the enclosed. It had +evidently been put in by mistake, because the envelope was in your +handwriting. I am sending it back.... + + +Harcourt pursed up his lips into a whistling shape and refolded the +enclosure. It was in Mordaunt's handwriting. But how did it get into +the envelope he himself had addressed to his sister? + +At that moment Mordaunt came across the mess holding out a letter. + +"Harcourt," he said, "my father has just sent me this letter. Isn't it +your handwriting?" + +Harcourt took the sheet of paper and glanced at it. "Yes," he said, +"it's one I wrote to my sister for her birthday. And here's one that she +has just sent back to me. Is it yours by any chance?" + +He carelessly extended the folded missive, and summoning all his +self-possession, looked his friend in the eyes and smiled wanly. "I've +only just read my sister's letter," he went on. "She seemed rather +puzzled..." + +Mordaunt took the proffered letter and nodded. "Yes," he said, "it's +mine." He, too, paled a little. "I think I know what's happened. Do +you remember that scrap just as we were finishing our letters the other +night? Bosh pulled the table-cloth down and capsized everything. Our +letters got mixed up, and we must have addressed each other's envelopes." + +He stood turning the letter to his father over and over in his fingers. + +"Well," said Harcourt reassuringly, "it doesn't matter much, old thing, +does it? I'm just going to put this in another envelope and send it off +to my sister, with a note to explain. There's no harm done! I don't +suppose your letter was a matter of vast importance either, was it, +Billy?" He spoke lightly, in a tone of amused indifference, and turned +to the locker where he kept his writing materials. + +The other walked over to the stove, slowly tearing his letter into pieces. + +"No," he said. "Oh, no ... none at all." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WET BOBS + +A flurry of sleet came out of the east where a broad band of light was +slowly widening into day. + +The tarpaulin cover to the after hatchway was drawn aside as if by a +cautious hand, and the rather sleepy countenance of the Young Doctor +peered out into the dawning. An expression of profound distaste spread +over it, and its owner emerged to the quarterdeck. There he stood +shivering, looking about him as if he found the universe at this hour a +grossly over-rated place. After a few minutes' contemplation of it +thus, he turned up the collar of his great coat, pulled his cap down +until it gave him the appearance of a sort of Naval "Artful Dodger," +and walked gloomily to the port gangway. The Officer of the Watch, who +was partaking of hot cocoa in the shelter of the after superstructure, +sighted this forlorn object. + +"Morning, Pills!" he shouted. "She's called away: won't be long now." +He wiped his mouth and came across the deck to where the other was +standing. "Fine morning for a pull," he observed, throwing his nose +into the air and sniffing like a pointer. "Smell the heather? Lor'! +it does me good to see all you young fellow-me-lads turning up here +bright and early with the roses in your cheeks." + +The Young Doctor turned a gamboge-tinted eye on the speaker. + +"Dry up," he said acidly. + +The Officer of the Watch was moved to unseemly mirth. "Where's your +crew, Pills? I don't like to see this hanging-on-to-the-slack the +first morning of the training season. You're too easy going for a cox, +by a long chalk, my lad. You ought to be going round their cabins now +with a wet sponge, shouting 'Wet Bobs!' and 'Tally Ho!' and the rest of +it." + +"Dry up!" was the reply. + +"An even temper, boundless tact, a firm manner and an extensive +vocabulary--those were the essentials of the cox of a racing boat when +_I_ was a lad at College. Why did they make you cox, Pills?" + +"'Cos I'm light," retorted the Doctor. "'Cos I'm a damn fool," he +added with a sudden access of bitterness. "Look here, Tweedledee, what +about this bloomin' boat? Here I've been standing for the last five +minutes--ah, there she is." + +He gazed distastefully at the lower boom, where two members of the +galley's crew were casting off the painter that secured the boat to the +Jacob's ladder. + +"Now, then," said a loud and cheerful voice at their elbows, "where's +this boat we've been hearing such a lot about?" A tall, athletic +figure in football shorts and swathed about with many sweaters, with a +bright red cushion under his arm, stood gazing in the direction of the +lower boom. "Well, I'm blowed," he said, "not alongside _yet_? You're +a nice person, Pills, to leave the organisation of a racing boat's crew +to." He looked round the quarterdeck. "Where're all the others? Lazy +hogs! Here we are with the sun half over the foreyard and the boat not +even manned." + +The Surgeon eyed him severely. "You're none too smart on it yourself, +Bunje. Where's Thorogood? Where's Number One? Where's Gerrard? +Where's--ah, now they're coming." + +A sleepy-eyed procession, athletically clad, but not otherwise +conveying an impression of vast enthusiasm in the venture, trooped up +the hatchway and congregated in a shivering group at the gangway. + +"When I go away pulling," said the First Lieutenant, apparently +addressing a watchful-eyed gull volplaning past with outstretched +wings, "when I go away pulling, I like to get straight into the boat, +shove off and start right in. It's this hanging about----" + +"It's Tweedledee's fault," protested the coxswain bitterly. "I wrote +it down last night on the slate. He's too busy guzzling cocoa to +attend to his job, that's the truth of the matter. Are we all here +now, anyway...?" He scanned the faces of his little band of heroes. +"Derreck!" he said suddenly. "Now, where's Derreck? Really, this is +just about the pink limit. How could anyone----" + +"Hullo, hullo, hullo!" The form of the Engineer Lieutenant emerged +from the superstructure and came skipping towards them. "Sorry, +everybody! Am I late? My perishing servant forgot to call me. And +then I couldn't find my little short pants. Tweedledee, I've just been +having a lap at your cocoa: the Quartermaster said it was getting cold." + +"Not mine," replied the Officer of the Watch. "I've finished mine. +You've probably drunk the Commander's. He put it down for a minute----" + +The face of the Engineer Lieutenant grew suddenly anxious. "Well, what +about getting into the boat and shoving off? What are we all standing +about getting cold for? I vote we have a jolly good pull, too. Stay +away for half-an-hour or so--eh?" + +The long, slim galley came at length alongside under the manipulation +of the two rather apathetic members of the galley's crew, and the +officers' racing crew descended the gangway and took possession of her. + +"Now then," said the Young Doctor, "sort yourselves out: Number One +stroke, Gerrard bow, Bunje----" + +"I'm going bow," said the Engineer Lieutenant. "I pulled bow at Keyham +for two years, and in China----" + +"If you stand there kagging[1] we'll never get away," interposed the +coxswain, "and the Commander will want to know who drank his cocoa. +Bunje second stroke, James third stroke. Derreck, you're second bow, +and Tweedledum third bow, and for heaven's sake sit down and stop +gassing, all of you." + +Thorogood leaned forward and extended a stretcher for inspection. + +"How the devil am I to pull with a stretcher like this, Pills?" he +demanded. "It'll smash before we've gone a yard." + +"When I was at Keyham," said the Engineer Lieutenant, slopping water +over the canvas parcelling on his oar in a professional manner, "we +used to have stretchers made with----" + +"We don't want to hear about Keyham," said the First Lieutenant, "we +want to get to work. Shove the perishing thing away, James, and stop +chawing your fat. If it's good for Nelson it's good enough for you." + +"Do we start training in earnest to-day?" demanded the India-rubber +Man, gloomily rubbing his calves. "Because I don't mind admitting that +I like to start gradually. 'Another-Little-Drink-Won't-Do-Us-Any-Harm' +sort of spirit." + +"We shan't start at all if Double-O Gerrard doesn't find that blessed +boat-hook an' shove her off soon," retorted the long, lean third bow, +speaking for the first time. + +"I can't see without my glasses," complained the bow, fumbling among +the blades of the oars. "Where is the bloomin' thing? Ah, here we +are!" + +"Shove off forward!" bellowed the voice of the coxswain for the third +time. + +The bow leaned his weight behind the boathook against the ship's side, +and the bows of the galley sheered off slowly. + +"We're awa'," said the India-rubber Man, "we're awa'! Lord, 'ow +lovely!" + +They paddled desultorily for a few strokes. Then the bow "bucketed" +and sent a shower of icy spray over the backs of the two after oarsmen. +Their loud expostulations were followed by protests from Tweedledum. + +"My oar's got a kink!" he announced lugubriously. + +"Oars!" said the coxswain. "Now," he said grimly, with the air of a +man who had reached the limit of human patience, "I'll give you all a +minute. Ease up your belts, tie your feet down, have a wash and brush +up, say your prayers, spit on your hands, and get comfortable once and +for all. It's the last stand-easy you'll get. We're going to pull +round the head of the line if it breaks blood-vessels." + +The minute passed in invective directed chiefly against the oars, the +stretchers, the crutches, the boat generally and the helmsman in +particular. At the expiration of that time, however, they all sat up +facing aft, with their hands expectantly gripping the looms of their +oars and profound gloom on every countenance. + +The coxswain contemplated them dispassionately. + +"You're a cheerful-looking lot to start out with to win the cup back!" +was his comment. "Oars ready! 'Way together!" + +The crew, like a child that suddenly tires of being naughty, bent to +their oars, and the boat slid through the water under long, swinging +strokes.... + + * * * * * + +Regatta-day broke calm and clear. The hands were piped to breakfast, +and the Quartermaster of the Morning Watch, as the latest authority on +the vagaries of the barometer, entered the Petty Officers' mess with +the air of one in the intimate confidence of the High Gods. + +"Glass 'igh an' steady," he announced, helping himself to sausage and +mashed potatoes. "We'll 'ave it calm till mebbe five o'clock, then +it'll blow from the south'ard. That's down the course. But we won't +'ave no rain to-day." + +The Captain of the Forecastle, who read his "Old Moore's Almanac," and +was susceptible to signs and portents, confirmed the optimism of the +Quartermaster. + +"I 'ad a dream last night," he said. "I was a-walkin' with my missus +alongside the Serpentine--in London, that is. There was swans sailin' +on it, an' we was 'eavin' bits of bread to 'em. 'Fred,' she says, +'you'll 'ave it beautiful for your regatta. You'll win,' she says, +'the Stokers' Cutters, the Vet'rans' Skiff's, the Orficers' Gigs, an' +the All-comers.'" + +"That's along of you eatin' lobster for supper last night," said the +Ship's Painter, a sceptic who had a sovereign on a race not mentioned +by the Captain of the Forecastle's wife. "Wot about the perishin' +Boys' Cutters? Didn't your old Dutch say nothin' about them?" + +The seer shook his head and performed intricate evolutions with a pin +in the cavernous recesses of his mouth. + +"Mebbe she would 'ave if she'd 'ad the chanst," was the reply. "But +she didn't 'ave time to say no more afore the Reveille interrupted 'er, +an' I 'ad to turn out." + +The Quartermaster of the Morning Watch concluded his repast. "Well," +he said, "Mebbe she'll tell you the rest to-night. Then we'll know +'oo's 'oo, as the sayin' is. But there's one crew as I'll put my shirt +on, an' that's the Orficers' Gigs." + +"'Ow about the Boys' Cutters?" demanded the Ship's Painter whose +sovereign was in jeopardy. + +"_An'_ the Vet'rans' Skiffs," echoed the Captain of the Forecastle, +"what my wife mentioned? 'Fred,' she says----" + +"An' the All-comers," interrupted the Captain of the Side, "wiv the +Chief Buffer[2] coxin' the launch?" + +The Quartermaster of the Morning Watch made a motion with an enormous +freckled paw as if stroking an invisible kitten. "I ain't sayin' +nothin' against 'em. Nothin' at all. What I says is, 'Wait an' see.' +I ain't a bettin' man, not meself. But if anyone was to fancy an even +'arf quid----" + +The shrill whistle of the call-boy's pipe clove the babel of the +crowded mess-deck. + +"A-a-away Racing Whaler's Crew!" + +shouted the cracked high tenor. "Man your boat!" + +"There you are!" said the Blacksmith, a silent, bearded man. "What are +we all 'angin' on to the slack for? Come on deck. That's the first +race." + +Regatta-day, even in War-time, was a day of high carnival. The dozen +or so of Battleships concerned, each with its crew of over a thousand +men, looked forward to the event much in the same spirit as a Derby +crowd that gathers overnight on Epsom Downs. The other Squadrons of +the vast Battle-fleet were disposed to ignore the affair; they had +their own regattas to think about, either in retrospection or as an +event to come. But in the Squadron immediately concerned it was, next +to the annihilation of the German Fleet, the chief consideration of +their lives, and had been for some weeks past. + +For weeks, and in some cases months, the racing crews of launches, +cutters, gigs, and whalers, officers and men alike, had carried through +an arduous training interrupted only by attentions to the King's +enemies and the inclemencies of the Northern spring. And now that the +day had come, both spectators and crews moved in an atmosphere of +holiday and genial excitement heated by intership rivalry to +fever-point. + +A regatta is one of the safety valves through which the ships' +companies of the silent Fleet in the North can rid themselves of a +little superfluous steam. Only those who have shared the repressed +monotony of their unceasing vigil can appreciate what such a day means. +To be spared for a few brief hours the irksome round of routine, to +smoke Woodbines the livelong day; to share, in the grateful sunlight, +some vantage point with a "Raggie," and join in the full-throated, +rapturous roars of excitement that sweep down the mile-long lane of +ships abreast the sweating crews. This is to taste something of the +fierce exhilaration of the Day that the Fleet is waiting for, and has +awaited throughout the weary years. + +A Dockyard tug, capable of accommodating several hundred men, lay +alongside. The ship had swung on the tide at an angle to the course +that obscured full view of the start. Those of the ship's company who +desired a full complete spectacle from start to finish were to go away +and anchor at some convenient point in the line, from which an +uninterrupted panorama could be obtained. The device had other +advantages: by anchoring midway down the course a flagging crew could +be spurred on to mightier efforts by shouts and execrations, the +beating of gongs, hooting syren and fog-horns, whistles and impassioned +entreaties. + +Accordingly the more ardent supporters of the various crews, armed with +all the implements of noise and encouragement that their ingenuity +could devise, embarked. They swarmed like bees over the deck and +bridge-house, they clung to the rigging and funnel stays, and perched +like monkeys on the mast and derrick. Thus freighted the craft moved +off amid deafening cheers, and took up a position midway between two +Battleships moored in the centre of the line. The anchor was dropped, +and the closely packed spectators, producing mouth-organs and +cigarettes, prepared to while away the time until the commencement of +the first race. + +They belonged to a West-country ship--that is to say, one manned from +the Dockyard Port of Plymouth. The master of the tug, whose interest +in such matters was, to say the least of it, cosmopolitan, had anchored +between two Portsmouth-manned Battleships. The position he had +selected commanded a full view of the course, and there his +responsibilities in the affair ended. On the other hand, the crews of +the two Battleships in question, assembled in full strength on their +respective forecastles in anticipation of the forthcoming race, +regarded the arrival of the tug in the light of a diversion sent +straight from Heaven. + +The tug's cable had scarcely ceased to rattle through the hawse-pipe +when the opening shots, delivered through a megaphone, rang out across +the water. + +"_'Ullo! Web-feet!_" bellowed a raucous voice. "_Yeer! Where be +tu?_" A roar of laughter followed this sally. + +The occupants of the tug were taken by surprise. Their interests had +hitherto been concentrated in the string of whalers being towed down to +the distant starting-point by a picket boat. Before they could rally +their forces a cross-fire of rude chaff, winged by uproarious laughter, +had opened on either side. Catch-word and jest, counter and repartee +utterly unintelligible to anyone outside Lower-deck circles were hurled +to and fro like snowballs. Every discreditable incident of their joint +careers as units of that vast fighting force, personalities that would +have brought blushes to the cheeks of a Smithfield porter, the whole +couched in the obscure jargon of Catwater and Landport taverns, rang +backwards and forwards across the water, and withal the utmost good +humour and enjoyment wreathing their faces with smiles. + +The distant report of a gun sounded and a far-off roar of voices +announced that the first race had started; straight-way the tumult +subsided, and an expectant hush awaited the approach of the line of +boats moving towards them like a row of furious water-beetles. + +The race drew nearer, and ship after ship of the line took up the +deep-toned roar. The names of the ships, invoked by their respective +ship's companies as might the ancients have called upon their Gods, +blended in one great volume of sound. The more passionately interested +supporters of the crews followed the strung-out competitors in +steam-boats, and added their invocations to the rest. + +A rifle cracked on board the end ship of the line, and the crew of the +leading boat collapsed in crumpled heaps above their oars. The race +was over. On board a ship half-way down the line a frantic outburst of +cheering suddenly predominated above all other sounds, and continued +unabated as the rifle cracked twice more in quick succession, +announcing that the second and third boats had ended the race. + +A hoist of flags at the masthead of the Flagship proclaimed the names +of the first three crews, dipped, and was succeeded by the number of +the next race. Again the gun in the bows of the Umpire's steam-boat +sped the next race upon its way, and once more the tumult of men's +voices rose and swelled to a gale of sound that swept along the line, +and died to the tumultuous cheering of a single ship. + +A couple of hours passed thus, and there remained one race before +dinner, the Officers' Gigs. The events of the forenoon had +considerably enhanced the reputation of the Captain of the Forecastle +as a prophet. Furthermore, the result of the Boys' Race had enriched +the Ship's Painter to the extent of a sovereign. It needed but the +victory of the Officers' Gigs to place the ship well in sight of the +Silver Cock, which was the Squadron Trophy for the largest number of +points obtained by any individual ship. + +The starting-point was the rallying-place for every available steam- +and motor-boat in the Squadron, crowded with enthusiastic supporters of +the different crews. The Dockyard tug, with its freight of hoarse yet +still vociferous sailor-men, had weighed her anchor, and moved down to +the end of the line preparatory to steaming in the wake of the last +race. + +The Umpire, in the stern of an officious picket-boat, was apparently +the only dispassionate participator in the animated scene. The long, +graceful-looking boats, each with its crew of six, their anxious-faced +coxswains crouched in the sterns, and tin flags bearing the numbers of +their ships in the bows, were being shepherded into position. A tense +silence was closing down on the spectators. It deepened as the line +straightened out, and the motionless boats awaited the signal with +their oars poised in readiness for the first stroke. + +"Up a little, number seven!" shouted the starter wearily through his +megaphone. Two hours of this sort of thing robs even the Officers' +Gigs of much outstanding interest to the starter. + +"Goo-o-o!" whispered one of the watching men. "'E don't 'arf know 'is +job, the coxswain of that boat." + +The boat in question with a single slow stroke moved up obediently. + +"Stand by!" sang the metallic voice again. Then-- + +_Bang!_ They were off. + +As if released by the concussion, a wild pandemonium burst from the +waiting spectators' throats. The light boats sprang forward like +things alive, and in their churning wakes came the crowded steam-boats. + +For perhaps two minutes the racing boats travelled as if drawn by +invisible threads of equal length. Then first one and then another +dropped a little. The bow of one of the outside boats broke an oar, +and before the oarsman could get the spare one into the crutch the boat +slipped to the tail of the race. The spare oar shipped, however, she +maintained her position, and her crew continued pulling against +hopeless odds with pretty gallantry. + +Half-way down the mile course there were only four boats in it. The +Flagship's boat led by perhaps a yard, with a rival on either side of +her pulling stroke for stroke. Away to the right and well clear, the +Young Doctor urged his crew on with sidelong glances out of the corner +of his eye at the other boats. + +"You've got 'em!" he said. "You've got 'em cold. Steady does it! +Quicken a fraction, Number One. Stick it, Bow, stick it, lad!" + +The Flagship's boat had increased her lead to half a length ahead of +her two consorts: the Young Doctor's crew held her neck and neck. Then +the Young Doctor cleared his dry throat and spoke with the tongues of +men and fallen angels. He coaxed and encouraged, he adjured and abused +them stroke by stroke towards their goal. The crew, with set, white +faces and staring eyes fixed on each other's backs, responded like +heroes, but Double-O Gerrard was obviously tiring and the First +Lieutenant's breath was coming in sobs. They were pulling themselves +out. + +The roar of voices on either side of the course surged in their ears +like the sound of a waterfall. Astern of them was the picket-boat, a +graceful feather of spray falling away on either side of the +stem-piece. A concourse of Wardroom and Gunroom officers had crowded +into her bows, and the Commander, purple with emotion, bellowed +incoherencies through a megaphone. + +Then, with one keen glance at the Flagship's crew and one at the +rapidly approaching finishing line, the Young Doctor chose the +psychological moment. + +"Stand by!" he croaked. "Now, all together--_spurt!_" + +His crew responded with the last ounce of energy in their exhausted +frames. They were blind, deaf and dumb, straining, gasping, forcing +"heart and nerve and sinew" to drive the leaden boat through those last +few yards. Suddenly, far above their heads, rang out the crack of a +rifle, and the next instant another. The crew collapsed as if shot. + +For a moment none was capable of speech. Then the First Lieutenant +raised his head from his hands. + +"Which is it," he asked, "us or them?" + +The Young Doctor was staring up at the masthead of the Flagship. A +tangle of flags appeared above the bridge-screen. + +"I can't read 'em," he said. "Which is it? Translate, someone, for +pity's sake." + +The crew of the Flagship's boat, lying abreast of them a few yards +away, answered the question. They turned towards their late +adversaries and began clapping. The next moment the Dockyard tug burst +into a triumphant frenzy, and the picket-boat, full of cheering, +clapping mess-mates, slid alongside to take the painter. + +The First Lieutenant stretched out a large, blistered hand. "Shake, +Pills," he said. + + * * * * * + +One race is, after all, very much like another. Yet the afternoon wore +on without any appreciable abatement in the popular enthusiasm. And it +was not without its memorable features. The Bandsmen's Race crowned +one of the participators in undying fame. This popular hero broke an +oar half-way through the race, and rising to his feet promptly sprang +overboard. + +His spectacular action plunged the remainder of the crew in hopeless +confusion, and he himself was rescued with difficulty in a half-drowned +state of collapse by the Umpire's boat. Yet for some occult reason no +feat of gallantry in action would have won him such universal +commendation on the Lower-deck. "Nobby Clark--'im as jumped overboard +in the Bandsmen's Race" was thereafter his designation among his +fellows. + +The last race--the All-comers--did not justify universal expectation. +The treble-banked launch was indeed coxed by the Chief Boatswain's +Mate. A "Funny-party" in the stern, composed of a clown, a nigger and +a stout seaman in female attire, added their exhortations to the "Chief +Buffer's" impassioned utterances. But the Flagship's galley, pulling +eight oars, with the coxswain perched hazardously out over the stern, +won the three-mile tussle, and won it well. + +As the Quartermaster of the Morning Watch had foretold, a breeze sprang +up towards the close of the day. It blew from the southward and +carried down the lines a medley of hilarious sounds. + +A drifter hove in sight, shaping course for the Fleet Flagship. She +was crowded to suffocation with singing, cheering sailor-men, and +secured to her stumpy bowsprit was a silver cock. As she approached +the stern of the Flagship, however, the uproar subsided, and the +densely thronged drifter was white with upturned, expectant faces. + +A solitary figure was walking up and down the quarterdeck of the +Battleship. He paused a moment, suddenly stepped right aft to the +rail, and smilingly clapped his hands, applauding the trophy in the +bows of the drifter. The last rays of the setting sun caught on the +broad gold bands that ringed his sleeve almost from cuff to elbow. + +A wild tumult of frantic cheering burst out almost like an explosion +from every throat still capable of emitting sound. There was gratitude +and passionate loyalty in the demonstration, and it continued long +after the figure on the quarterdeck had turned away and the drifter had +resumed her noisy, triumphant tour of the Fleet. + +"That's what I likes about '_im_," whispered a bearded seaman hoarsely, +as they swung off on their new course. "'E's that '_Uman_!" He jerked +his head astern in the direction of the mighty Battleship on whose vast +quarterdeck the man who bore a share of the Destiny of Europe on his +shoulders was still pacing thoughtfully up and down. + + + +[1] Arguing. + +[2] Chief Boatswain's Mate. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +CARRYING ON + +The fresh Northern breeze sent the waves steeplechasing across the +surface of the harbour, and lapping over the hull of a British +Submarine as she moved slowly past the anchored lines of the +Battle-fleet towards the entrance. + +Her Commanding Officer stood beside the helmsman, holding a soiled +chart in his hands; further aft on the elliptical railed platform of +the conning tower a tall, angular, grey-haired man, clad in civilian +garb, stood talking to the First Lieutenant. A Yeoman of Signals, his +glass tucked into his left arm-pit, was securing the halliards to the +telescopic mast, at which fluttered a frayed White Ensign. A couple of +figures in sea-boots and duffle coats were still coiling down ropes and +securing fenders, crawling like flies about the whale-backed hull. A +hundred and fifty feet astern of the conning-tower the unseen +propellers threw the water into vortices that went curling away down +the long wake. + +"We'll pick up the trawler outside," said the Lieutenant-Commander, +folding up the chart and sticking it into the breast of his +monkey-jacket. "Deep water out there, and we can play about." His +face was burned by the sun to the colour of an old brick wall; the +tanned skin somehow made his eyes look bluer and his hair fairer than +was actually the case; it accentuated the whiteness of his teeth, and +gave his quick smile an oddly arresting charm. + +The elderly civilian considered him with grave interest before +replying. "Thank you," he said. "That's just what I want to do--play +about!" + +"The other experts are all in the trawler, with the apparatus," +supplemented the Lieutenant-Commander. "We're under your orders, sir, +for these experiments." + +"Thank you," said Sir William Thorogood, Scientist; he drew a cigar +case out of his pocket. "I feel rather like a man accepting another's +hospitality and spending the day trying to pick his brains." + +The Submarine-Commander smiled rather grimly. "You mean you're trying +to find a way of cutting our claws and making us harmless?" he said. + +"Well--Fritz's claws," amended Sir William. + +"Same thing," replied the Lieutenant-Commander. "What's ours to-day is +theirs tomorrow--figuratively speakin', that is. If it's sauce for the +goose it's sauce for the gander--just tit for tat, this game." + +"That," said Sir William, "is rather a novel point of view. It's not +exactly one that is taken by the bulk of people ashore." + +The figure beside the helmsman crinkled up his eyes as he stared ahead +and gave a low-voiced order to the helmsman. "Oh?" he said. "I don't +know much about what people ashore think, except that they're all +rattled over this so-called Submarine menace. Anyone that's scared is +apt to cling to one point of view." + +"That is so," replied the Scientist. "But I chose to come out with you +to-day for these experiments on the principle of setting a thief to +catch a thief." + +"That's sound," said the Submarine expert. "Because, you know, in the +Navy we all look at life from different points of view, according to +our jobs. No, thanks, I won't smoke till we get outside. Now, those +fellows"--the speaker jerked his head astern to the great grey +Battleships--"those big-ship wallahs--they're only just beginning to +take Us seriously. I put in my big-ship time at the beginning of the +war--we do a year in a big ship, you know, for our sins--and the +fellows in the Mess used to jeer at Us. They talked about their +rams...." He laughed. "Rams!" he repeated. "They called us pirates. +P'raps we were, but we didn't carry bathrooms in those early boats--nor +yet manicure sets.... Port ten! ... Ease to five--steady!" + +The speaker was silent for a moment, musing. "I don't know that I +altogether blame 'em." He turned to his First Lieutenant, a youth some +years his junior with preposterously long eyelashes. "'Member the +manoeuvres before the War?" The other laughed and nodded. "I +torpedoed my revered parent's Battleship," continued the speaker, "at +two hundred yards in broad daylight and a flat calm." He chuckled. +"Lor' bless me! It's like a fairy tale, lookin' back on it after two +years of war." + +"Haven't they rather altered their tune since, though?" asked the +visitor. + +"A bit, yes. They don't quite know how to take us nowadays. We come +in from patrol and tie up alongside them to give the men the run of the +canteen; they ask us to dinner and give cinema shows for the sailors, +bless 'em. We're beginning to feel quite the giddy heroes when we find +ourselves among the Battle-fleet." + +"Cold feet," interposed the First Lieutenant. "That's what's behind it +all. We're It...." + +Sir William laughed. "Well," he said, "what about those craft yonder? +There I suppose you have yet another point of view?" + +A division of Armed Trawlers lumbered out of their path, the bow gun on +each blunt forecastle rising and dipping as they plunged in the +incoming swell. + +"Ah!" said the Lieutenant-Commander, "they're different. They never +had any preconceived notions about us or their own invulnerability. +The boot's on the other foot there. We used to jeer at them once; but +now I'm not so certain...." + +"You never know what the hell they'll do next," explained the +Lieutenant with the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheek-bone. "That's +the trouble. 'They knows nothin' an' they fears nothin','" he quoted, +smiling. + +"The personal element comes in more, I suppose, in those craft," said +Sir William musingly. He focused his glasses on a turf cabin ashore. +"The Admiral was telling me that a London brain specialist was born in +one of those crofter's huts." + +The Submarine Commander nodded. "It's not unlikely," he said. "These +Northern fishermen are a fine breed. But this patrol work has +developed a new type of seaman altogether. We've got a fellow up here +huntin' Fritzes--he's a merchant seaman with a commission in the Naval +Reserve.... There are times when he makes _me_ frightened, that +sportsman. It's a blessing the Hun can't reproduce his type: anyhow, I +haven't met any over the other side, or up the Baltic." + +"Name of Gedge?" enquired Sir William dryly. + +"That's the lad," was the reply. "D'you know him, sir?" + +"No, but I've heard of him." + +"You'll see him presently," said the other. "He's waiting for us +outside onboard his trawler. If you go onboard, have a look at the +beam of his fore-hatch: rather interestin'." + +"What about it?" asked Sir William. + +"A little row of notches--that's all. He adds another from time to +time, and I feel sort of sorry for Fritz when he's about." + +"Like rats' tails hanging on a stable door," supplemented the First +Lieutenant in explanation. + +"I see," said Sir William. "This is going to be interesting." He +pitched the stump of his cigar overboard and turned up the collar of +his ulster as the spray began to drift past their heads. + +"We work together sometimes," said the Submarine Officer, "Gedge and I. +Little stunts, you know.... It's part of my job, of course, huntin' +Fritzes, but it's more than a job with him: it's a holy mission. +That's why I'm a bit frightened of him really." The speaker searched +the visitor's face with his guileless blue eyes. "I'm afraid of +meeting him one day, unexpectedly, before I can establish our +identity!" His quick smile flashed across his sunburnt face and was +gone again. + +The Submarine was passing under frowning walls of cliff, and the murmur +of the surf thundering about the caverns and buttresses of that +rock-bound coast almost drowned the throb of the engines beneath their +feet. Far out to seaward a formation of Mine-sweeping Sloops crept +away to the west. Close inshore, where the gulls circled vociferously, +an insignificant trawler with a rusty funnel lay rolling in the swell. +A wisp of bunting jerked to the stumpy foremast, and a pair of +hand-flags zigzagged above the trawler's wheel-house. The Yeoman of +Signals on the Submarine's conning tower stiffened like a statue as he +read the message. + +"Says, 'Will Sir William Thor-r-ogood come aboar-r-d, sir? If so, +he'll send a boat.'" His speech placed him at home in these Northern +latitudes. + +"Reply, 'Yes. Please send boat.'" + +A quarter of an hour later Sir William was climbing out of a tubby +dinghy over the trawler's bulwarks. A big bronzed man in a jersey and +sea-boots, wearing the monkey-jacket of a Lieutenant of the Reserve and +a uniform cap slightly askew, came forward, one enormous hand +outstretched in greeting. "Pleased to meet you, sir," he said. "My +name's Gedge." + +Sir William shook hands and winced. + +"I've heard of you," he said, "and I was anxious to meet you. What +d'you think of that toy?" + +He nodded aft at a web of wire-coils, vulcanite levers and brass keys, +standing beneath a wooden shelter in the stern. Three or four officers +from the Fleet were gathered round it with note-books in their hands +testing and adjusting amid its intricacies. + +"I've been lookin' at it," admitted the big man non-committally. "It +sounds like a cinch, but I understand it ain't perfect yet?" + +"Not by what you might call a long chalk," was the dry reply. + +The big man looked relieved. "That's all right," he said. "Because +when it is I guess I can go right along and get to bed. That little +outfit's going to finish the war, sir." + +"Hardly," said Sir William. "But it's intended to help things in that +direction. Unfortunately, you see, there's still a factor--what we +call an unknown quantity----" He lapsed into technical explanations. +The other listened for a while and then shook his head. + +"Maybe you're right," he said, "but I couldn't say. I'm no +scholar--ran away from school too young. But it seems to me----" He +lifted a booted foot and rested it on the low gunwale, "Workin' at long +distances, there's the pull of the tides...." + +Sir William's eyeglass dropped. He recovered it and screwed it home. + +"Am I right, sir?" asked the big man. + +"You are," said the Scientist. "You've studied tides, too, have you?" + +The Submarine Hunter chuckled. "I've learned to respect 'em," he +replied dryly. "Down the Malay Archipelago I learned something about +tides, spittin' overboard from salvage craft...." He stood upright. +"Well, sir, we'd better get to business. These gentlemen here are the +brains of the party"--he nodded at the group aft. "I'm only in the +picture to put them wise as to certain practical conditions of the +game...." He dropped his voice to a confidential undertone as they +walked aft. "The Navy scares me. It's so damned big, and there's so +much gold lace--and it's so almighty efficient...." + +Half an hour's discussion settled the _modus operandi_ for the +experiment. The Submarine Commander rose from the gunwale and tossed +away his cigarette-end, then he grinned at the Submarine Hunter who +stood with one shoulder against the structure aft, shredding tobacco +into the palm of his hand. + +"Gardez-vous, Old Sport!" he said, as he began to climb down into the +dinghy, where Sir William joined him. + +"That's French, ain't it?" said the Submarine Hunter. "Don't speak the +lingo." + +One of the Naval officers standing by the apparatus laughed. "It's a +challenge," he said. "Means 'Mind your eye!'" + +The Hunter jerked his clasp knife in the direction of the fore-hatch. +"I can mind it all right," he replied grimly, and laughed with a sudden +disconcerting bark of amusement. + + * * * * * + +"Now," said the Submarine Commander as the pointed bows swung round for +the open sea, "we'll get away out of it. Must keep on the surface for +a while--too many short-tempered little patrol boats close in to let us +cruise with only a periscope showing." He waved his hand in the +direction of countless smudges of smoke ringing the clear horizon. +"But once we're clear of those we'll dive and hide somewhere for a +while. Give old man Gedge something to scratch his head about, lookin' +for us. Then we'll play round and test the apparatus.... You'll be +able to observe the compass all the time, and I'll give you the +distances. There's a young flood making ..." + +For the space of a couple of hours the boat slid swiftly through the +waves and successive cordons of patrols passed them onwards with +flickering signals. The men onboard a line of rusty drifters leaned +over the sides of their plunging craft and waved as the jaws of their +baleful traps opened to let them pass through. Above their heads a +gull circled inquisitively, shrilling the high, thin Song of the +Seventh Sea: astern the peaks of Ultima Thule faded like opals into the +blue. + +A little cluster of rocky islands rose at length out of the sea ahead; +the Submarine Commander took a swift bearing and rolled up the chart. + +"That'll do," he said; "now we'll dive. There's a shoal patch +hereabouts, and we'll sit on the bottom and have lunch while old man +Gedge starts looking for us. After lunch we'll let him get near and +try a bit of daylight stalking." He glanced at the sun overhead. "Bit +early, yet awhile," he added. + +One by one, led by Sir William, they descended the steel-runged ladder +into the electric-lit depths of the Submarine. A hatch closed with a +muffled clang: a few curt orders were followed by a succession of +gurgles like those of the tide flooding through a cavern; the +Commanding Officer moved from the eyepiece of the periscope, and +gravely contemplated a needle creeping slowly round the face of a large +dial. A Petty Officer, with an expression emotionless as that of a +traveller in a railway tunnel, sat by the dial manipulating a brass +wheel; a few feet away sat a Leading Seaman similarly employed. The +eyes of both men were fixed on the hesitating needle as it shivered +round. Finally the needle wavered, crept on another inch and paused, +trembling. The Lieutenant-Commander glanced fore and aft, stripped off +a pair of soiled gauntlets and made a low-voiced observation. The two +men, as if released from a spell, turned away from their dials. + +"There we are," said the Captain cheerfully, "sitting snug on a nice +sandy bottom in ten fathoms of water. What's for lunch?" He led the +way forward to a folding table between the polished mahogany bunks. +"Fried chops, ain't it?" he enquired, sniffing. + +They took their seats on camp stools while a bluejacket dealt out tin +plates like playing cards. Sir William turned from a scrutiny of the +tiny book-shelf over the port bunk. At the head of the bunk was nailed +the photograph of a girlish face, and in close proximity to it one of a +lusty baby exploring a fur rug apparently in search of clothes. + +"Not much of a library, I'm afraid," said the host, seating himself. +"I'm not much of a reader myself. The Sub's the bookworm of this boat." + +The First Lieutenant of the Submarine shot a swift glance of suspicion +at his Commanding Officer as he helped himself to a chop. The look, +however, appeared to pass unnoticed. + +"Some months ago," continued his Captain, speaking with his mouth full, +"we were caught in shallow water over the other side----" he jerked his +head upwards and to the South East. "We were sitting on the bottom +waiting for it to get dark before we came up and charged batteries. I +was having a stretch-off on my bunk here, and the Sub, of course, had +his nose in a book as usual. From subsequent developments it appears +that a Hun seaplane saw us and proceeded to bomb us with great good +will but indifferent success." + +"We ought never to have been there," interrupted the First Lieutenant +coldly. "Bad navigation on the Captain's part." + +"Granted," said the Lieutenant-Commander. "The first bomb was rather +wide of the mark, but it woke me, and I saw the Sub's eyelids flicker. +After that I watched him. The Hun bombed us steadily for a quarter of +an hour (missing every time, of course), and the Sub never raised his +eyes from his book." + +"I was interested," said the First Lieutenant shortly; his eyes, in one +swift glance captain-wards, said more. + +"Quite. I was only trying to prove you were a book-worm." + +"What was the book?" enquired Sir William. + +"Oh, Meredith, sir. Richard something-or-another. Topping yarn." + +The guest steered the conversation out of literary channels. + +"Were you over the other side much?" he asked blandly. + +"Pretty well all the war, till we came up North," was the +Lieutenant-Commander's reply. "You'll have to use the same knife for +the butter; hope you don't mind. We get into piggish ways here, I'm +afraid.... Amusin' work at times, but nothing to the Dardanelles; we +never got out there, though; spent all our time nuzzling sandbanks off +the Ems and thereabouts. Of course, one sees more of Fritz in that +way, but I can't say it exactly heightens one's opinion of him. We +used to think at the beginning of the war that Fritz was a +sportsman--for a German, you know. But he's really just a dirty dog +taking very kindly to the teaching of bigger and dirtier dogs than +himself." + +Sir William pondered this intelligence. "That's the generally accepted +theory," he said. + +"They may have had some white men in their submarines at one time, but +we've either downed them or they've got Prussianised. They've +disgraced the very word submarine to all eternity." The speaker shook +his head over the besmirched escutcheon of his young profession. + +"They're cowards, all right," added the Lieutenant. "'Member that +Fritz we chased all the way to Heligoland on the surface?" + +"Yep. Signalled to him with a flashing lamp to stop and fight: called +him every dirty name we could lay our tongues on. Think he'd turn and +have it out? Not much! ... Yet he had the bigger gun and the higher +speed. Signalled back, 'Not to-day, thank you!' and legged it inside +gun-range of the forts. Phew! That made us pretty hot, didn't it, +Sub?" + +"Nerves," said the Lieutenant. "Their nerves are just putrid. There +was another night once----" he talked quickly between spoonfuls of rice +pudding. "In a fog ... we were making a lightship off the Dutch coast +to verify our position.... Approached submerged, steering by sound of +their submarine bell, and then came to the surface to get a bearing. +There must have been half a dozen Fritzes round that light, all lost +and fluttering like moths round a candle. We bagged one, sitting, and +blew him to hell.... The rest plopped under like a lot of seals and +simply scattered. Fight? 'Not to-day, thank you.' They're only good +for tackling unarmed merchantmen and leaving women in open boats." The +speaker wiped his mouth with his napkin. "By God! I wouldn't be a Hun +when the war's over. They're having a nice little drop of leave now to +what they'll get if they ever dare put their noses outside their own +filthy country." + +"Amen," said Sir William. + +The Captain of the boat rose from his seat, glancing at his watch. +"Now then," he said to the Scientist, "Come to the periscope and let's +have a look round. Gedge ought to be over the horizon by now." + +The men moved quietly to their stations and the tanks were blown. +Slowly the gauge needles crept back on their appointed paths. The +Submarine Commander motioned his guest to the periscope and gave him a +glimpse of flying spray and sun-kissed wave tops. A mile or so away +lay the group of islands they had seen before lunch, and close inshore +a mass of floating débris bobbed among the waves. + +"Baskets, I think--jettison of sorts. I'm going to get amongst it and +go down with the tide, keeping the periscope hidden: it's an old dodge. +You can just see the smoke of Gedge's bus coming over the horizon. +We'll give him a little game of Peep-bo!" + +Sir William drew his watch from his pocket and walked over to the +compass. "In four minutes' time," he said, "I shall start making +observations: according to our arrangements Gedge should start the +experiment then." + +"That's right," said the Lieutenant-Commander with his eyes pressed +against the eye-piece of the periscope. "Oh, good! It's bales of hay +floating, not baskets. Better still: no chance of damaging the +periscope. There's Gedge----!" + + "Ha! Ha! Ha! Hee! Hee! Hee! + I see you, but you can't see me!" + +He slewed the periscope through a few points and back to the original +position. "Hullo!" he said presently, "what's he up to? He's altered +course.... Thinks he sees something, I suppose. You're wrong, my lad. +We're not in that direction." + +The minutes passed in silence. Forward in the bow compartment a man +was softly whistling a tune to himself. The feet of the figure at the +periscope moved with a shuffle on the steel plating. + +"How's the time?" he asked presently. + +"He ought to have started the apparatus," said Sir William, standing, +watch in hand, by the compass. "What's he doing?" + +"Legging it to the Northward at the rate of knots--eight points off his +course, if he thinks he's going to get anywhere near us ... Ah! Now +he's coming round.... Humph! You're getting warm, my lad!" Another +prolonged silence followed, and suddenly the Lieutenant-Commander spoke +again. + +"Sub," he said in a curiously restrained tone, "just come here a +minute." + +The Lieutenant moved obediently to his side and applied his eye to the +periscope. + +"Well?" said the Captain after a pause. "Well, Sister Anne?" + +The Lieutenant turned his head swiftly for an instant and looked at his +Commanding Officer. "Have we got any boat out on this patrol to-day?" +he asked. + +The other shook his head. "Not within thirty miles of this. 'Sides, +he wouldn't come through here submerged, with only his periscope +dipping." + +"It's a Fritz, then," said the Lieutenant, an ominous calm in his +voice. He stepped aside and relinquished the eye-piece. + +"It is," said the other. "It's a naughty, disobedient Fritz. He's +coming through in broad daylight, which he's been told not to do. He +hasn't seen us yet--he's watching old man Gedge. Gedge thinks it's us +and is pretending he hasn't seen him.... Lord! It's like a French +musical comedy." + +Sir William put his watch back in his pocket and stood looking from one +speaker to the other. Finally he removed his eye-glass and began to +polish it with scrupulous care. + +"Do I understand----" he began. + +The voice of the Lieutenant-Commander at the periscope cut him short. +"Stand by the tubes!" he shouted. + +There was a swift bustle of men's footsteps down the electric-lit +perspective of glistening machinery. + +"Fritz must be in a tearing hurry to get home," commented the First +Lieutenant. "P'raps they've all got plague or running short of food +... or just tired of life?" + +"P'raps," conceded the Lieutenant-Commander. "Anyhow, that's as may +be.... The beam torpedo tube will just bear nicely in a minute." The +white teeth beneath the rubber eye-piece of the periscope showed for an +instant in a broad grin. "Won't old man Gedge jump!" + +"Starboard beam tube ready!" + +Sir William replaced his eye-glass. A sudden bead of perspiration ran +down and vanished into his left eyebrow. + +"The Lord," said the Lieutenant in a low voice, "has placed the enemy +upon our lee bow, Sir William." + +"Has he?" said Sir William dryly. "Then I hope He'll have mercy on +their souls." + +The motionless figure at the periscope gave a couple of low-voiced +orders, and in the ensuing silence Sir William felt the artery in his +throat quicken and beat like a piston. Then-- + +"Fire!" + +The boat rolled to port, and all her framework shook like the body of a +man shaken by a sudden sob. Back she came to her original trim, and +the Lieutenant, standing by the beam tube, raised his wrist watch and +studied it intently. The seconds passed, throbbing, intolerable, and +merged into Eternity. A sudden concussion seemed to strike the boat +from bow to stern, and as she steadied the motionless figures, standing +expressionless at their stations, suddenly sprang into life and action. + +There was the metallic sound of metal striking metal as the hatchway +opened, a rush of cool, sweet air, and the Scientist found himself +beside the two officers, without the slightest recollection of how he +got there, standing in the wind and sunlight on the streaming platform +of the conning-tower. The boat was heading with the waves tumbling +away on either side of them in the direction of a cloud of grey smoke +that still hung over the water, slowly dissolving in the wind. As they +approached a dark patch of oil spread outwards from a miniature +maelstrom where vast bubbles heaved themselves up and broke; the air +was sickly with the smell of benzoline, and mingled with it were the +acrid fumes of gas and burnt clothing. A dark scum gathered in +widening circles, with here and there the white belly of a dead fish +catching the sun: a few scraps of wreckage went by, but no sign of a +man or what had once been a man. + +"Pretty shot," said the First Lieutenant approvingly, and leaned over +the rail to superintend the dropping of a sinker and buoy. The +Commanding Officer said nothing. Beneath the tan his face was white, +and his hand, as he raised his glasses to sweep the horizon, trembled +slightly. + +The Yeoman of Signals turned to Sir William and jerked his thumb at the +water. "Eh!" he said soberly, "yon had a quick call!" + +"I ask for no other when my hour strikes," replied the Scientist. + +"Maybe juist yeer hands are clean," said the Yeoman, and turned to +level his telescope at the trawler which was rapidly approaching with a +cloud of smoke reeling from her funnel and the waves breaking white +across her high bows. + +"Here comes Gedge," observed the Lieutenant-Commander, speaking for the +first time, "foaming at the mouth and suffering from the reaction of +fright. Hark! He's started talking...." + +Amid the cluster of figures in the trawler's bow stood a big man with a +megaphone to his mouth. The wind carried scraps of sentences across +the water. + +"... Darned bunch of tricks aft.... How was I to know.... Scared +blue ... torpedo ... prisoners.... Blamed inventors...." + +"Translate," said Sir William. The Lieutenant-Commander coughed +apologetically. "He's peevish," he said. "Thought it was us blowing +up at first. Wants to know why we wasted a torpedo: thinks he could +have captured her and taken the crew prisoners if we'd left it to him." + +"Silly ass!" from the First Lieutenant. "How could we let him know he +was playing round with a Fritz? If we'd shown ourselves Fritz would +have torpedoed us!" + +"I appreciate the compliment," began Sir William, "that he implies to +my device, but, as a matter of fact, I hardly think the apparatus is +sufficiently perfect yet----" + +The Lieutenant-Commander laughed rather brutally. "He isn't paying +compliments. He went on to say he didn't want the assistance +of--er--new inventions to bag a Fritz once he's sighted him." + +The First Lieutenant came quickly to the rescue. "Of course," he said, +"that's all rot. We're only too grateful to--to Science for trying to +invent a new gadget.... Only, you see, sir, in the meanwhile, _until_ +you hit on it we feel we aren't doing so badly--er--just carrying on." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +"ARMA VIRUMQUE ..." + +The Flagship's Wardroom and the smoking-room beyond were packed to +suffocation by a dense throng of officers. The Flagship was "At-Home" +to the Fleet that afternoon on the occasion of the Junior Officers' +Boxing Tournament which was being held onboard, and a lull in the +proceedings had been the signal for a general move below in quest for +tea. + +Hosts and guests were gathered round the long table, standing in pairs +or small groups, and talking with extraordinary gusto. Opportunities +of intercourse between ships are rare in War-time. Save for an +occasional visitor to lunch or dinner, or a haphazard meeting on the +golf-links, each ship or flotilla dwelt a little community apart. On +occasions such as this, however, the vast Fleet came together; Light +Cruiser met Destroyer with a sidelong jerk of the head and a "Hullo, +Old Thing..." that spanned the years at a single leap; Submarine +laughed across the room at Seaplane-carrier; Mine-sweeper and +Mine-layer shared a plate of sandwiches with a couple of Sloops and +discussed the boxing; but they were no more than a leavening amid the +throng of "big-ship folk" who reckoned horse-power by the half hundred +thousand and spoke of guns in terms of the 15-inch. + +Almost every rank of Naval officer was represented, from Commander to +Sub-Lieutenant and their equivalent ranks in other branches; yet the +vast majority shared a curious resemblance. It was elusive and quite +apart from the affinity of race. The high physical standard demanded +of each on entry, the athletic training of their early years, the stern +rigour of life afloat, perhaps accounted for it. But in many of the +tanned, clean-shaven faces there was something more definite than that; +a strain that might have been transmitted by the symbolic Mother of the +Race, clear-eyed and straight of limb, who still sits and watches +beneath stern calm brows the heritage of her sons. + +A few there were among the gathering with more than youth's unwisdom +marring mouth and brow; eyes tired with seeing over-much looked out +here and there from the face of Youth. Yet amid the wholesome, virile +cheerfulness of that assembly they were but transient impressions, +lingering on the mind of an observer with no more permanency than the +shadows of leaves flickering on a sunny wall. + +A Lieutenant-Commander, on whose left breast the gaudy ribbons of +Russian decorations hinted at the nature of his employment during the +War, was talking animatedly to a Lieutenant with the eagle of the +Navy-that-Flies above the distinction lace on his cuff. A grave-faced +Navigating Commander, scenting the possibility of an interesting +discussion between these exponents of submarine and aerial warfare, +pushed his way towards them through the crush. + +"... I remember her quite well," the Flying Man was saying as he +stirred his tea. "Nice little thing ... married, is she? Well, +well..." + +"You're a nice pair," said the Commander, smiling. "I came over here +expecting to hear you both discussing the bursting area of a submarine +bomb, and find you're talking scandal." + +"It's a year old at that," said the be-ribboned one, with a laugh. +"I've just come back from the White Sea, but I seem to know more about +what Timmin's lady friends have been doing in the meanwhile than he +does himself!" + +He bit firmly into a sardine sandwich and laughed again. A great hum +of men's voices filled the room. Scraps of home gossip exchanged +between more intimate friends, and comments on the afternoon's boxing +mingled with tag-ends of narratives from distant seas and far-off +shores. It was nearly all war, of course, Naval war in some guise or +other, and it covered most of the navigable globe. + +A general conversation of this nature cannot be satisfactorily +reproduced. A person slowly elbowing his way from the big tea-urns at +one end of the mess to the smoking-room at the other, would, in his +passage, cut off, as it were, segments of talk such as the following: + +"... Ripping little boxer, isn't he? I had his term at Osborne +College, but he's learnt a good deal since then...." + + * * * * + +"... Jess? Poor little dog: she was killed by a 4-inch shell in that +Dogger Bank show. I've got an Aberdeen terrier now." + + * * * * + +"... Bit of a change up here, isn't it, after being under double +awnings for so long? But the Persian Gulf was getting rather boring +... were you invalided too?" + + * * * * + +"... Not they! They won't come out--unless their bloomin' Emperor +sends them out to commit a sort of hari-kiri at the end of the war.... +That's what makes it so boring up here...." + + * * * * + +"As a matter of fact we caught the Turk who laid most of the mines in +the Tigris. He conned us up the river--we put him in a basket and +slung him on the bowsprit: just in case he got careless, what? ..." + + * * * * + +"... Beer? My dear old lad, the Japs had scoffed all the beer in +Kiao-Chau before I got into the main street...." + + * * * * + +"... I had a Midshipman up with me as observer--aged 16 and 4 months +precisely.... Those machines scared the Arabs badly...." + + * * * * + +"... Just a sharpened bayonet. You slung it round your neck when you +were swimming.... Only had to use it once ... nasty sticky job. No +joke either, crawling about naked on your belly in the dark...." + + * * * * + +"... We had a fellow chipping the ice away from the conning-tower +hatch all the time we were on the surface, 'case we had to close down +quick. I tell you, it was Hell, that cold! ..." + + * * * * + +"... Five seconds after we had fired our torpedo a shell hit the tube +and blew it to smithereens. A near thing, I give you my word...." + + * * * * + +A Lieutenant-Commander appeared at the doorway from the smoking-room. + +"There will be an exhibition bout next," he shouted, "and then the +final of the Light-weights!" A general move ensued on to the upper +deck. + +The raised ring was in amidships before the after superstructure. The +officers occupied tiers of chairs round three sides of the platform. +The Admirals and their staffs in front, and the Post-captains of the +ships that had entered competitors, just behind. On the forward side, +extending the whole breadth of the ship, was the dense array of the +ship's company. The majority were in tiers on planks, but a number had +found their way to other points of vantage, and were clustered about +the funnel casings and turrets and even astride the great guns +themselves. A murmur of men's voices, punctuated by the splutter of +matches as hundreds of pipes were lit and relit, went up on all sides. +The judges were taking their seats at the little tables on either side +of the ring, and the referee, an athletic-looking Commander, was +leaning over from his chair talking to the Chaplain who was acting as +time-keeper. + +The Physical Training Officer of the Flagship stepped into the empty +ring and raised his hand for silence. The hum of voices died away +instantly, and in the stillness the thin, querulous crying of the gulls +somewhere astern alone was audible. + +"Lieutenant Adams, Welter-weight Champion of the Navy, and Seaman +Hands, ex-Middle-weight Champion of England, have kindly consented to +give an exhibition of sparring," he proclaimed, and withdrew. + +During the applause that greeted the announcement a youthful figure, +clad in a white singlet and football shorts, with a sweater thrown over +his shoulders, ducked under the ropes and walked rather shyly to his +corner of the ring. His appearance was the signal for a vociferous +outburst of applause. He sat down, holding the sweater about his +shoulders with his gloved hands, and thoughtfully rubbing the sole of +his left boot in the powdered resin. + +The clapping suddenly redoubled, and a broad, bull-necked man of about +forty vaulted lightly into the ring and took his place in the opposite +corner. He was stripped to the waist; his jaws moved mechanically +about a piece of chewing gum, and an expression of benign good-humour +and enjoyment lit his battered, kindly countenance. + +It was not until the gong sounded and the two men rose from their +chairs that the contrast between the toughened ex-professional and the +lithe, graceful amateur brought forth a little murmur of delight from +the vast audience. + +In the sordid surroundings of the prize ring there might have been a +suggestion of brutality about the older man. The great hairy chest, +the knotted arms covered with barbaric tattooing, the low-crowned skull +and projecting lower jaw gave him an aspect of almost savage, +remorseless strength softened only by the gentleness of his eyes. He +moved as lightly as a cat, and from shoulder to thigh the muscles +stirred obedient to every motion. + +The Lieutenant was perhaps fifteen years the junior. The playing +fields or racquet-courts of any university would recognise his type as +nothing out of the common. Deep-chested, lean-flanked, perfectly +proportioned, and perhaps a shade "fine-drawn"--England and America +carelessly produce and maintain the standard of this perfection of +physical beauty as no other white race can. + +The two men met in the centre of the ring, and as they shook hands the +old pugilist grinned almost affectionately. The lack of several front +teeth incidental to his late profession was momentarily apparent, and +an enthralled Ordinary Seaman, perched insecurely on the lower funnel +casing, drew his breath in relief. + +"'E won't 'urt 'im," he said in a whisper, as if to reassure himself. + +"Course 'e won't!" replied a companion, expelling a cloud of tobacco +smoke between his lips. "'S only a bit o' skylarkin'.... Gawd!" he +added in awed tones. "That one 'ud kill a donkey if 'e started +'ittin'." + +The two boxers had slipped into their habitual poses and were quietly +moving round each other. The graceful activity of the amateur was +somewhat characteristic of his school, while the ex-professional +contented himself with almost imperceptible movements of his feet, +watching with a nonchalant yet wary caution for the coming attack. +With the suddenness of a flash the Lieutenant led with his left and was +back out of harm's way again. + +True and quick was the blow, but the veteran's defence was even +quicker. Without raising either glove he appeared to have swayed +backwards from the hips. His adversary's glove should have landed full +in his face; but so perfectly was his defence timed that it just +reached him and no more. The battered face, with its amiable, +reassuring smile and slowly moving jaws, had not winked an eyelid. + +Then for three short rounds there followed a completely enthralling +display. On one side was perfectly trained orthodox, amateur boxing. +On the other every clean trick and subterfuge of irreproachable +ring-craft. Timing, footwork, feints, guarding and ducking; each +subtlety of the art of defence was demonstrated in turn. + +In the last few seconds of the final round, however, a little out of +breath with his defensive display, the older man changed his tactics. +With lowered head and ferocious face he advanced, a whirling bulk of +might and action, upon the amateur. Tap--tap--tap! Left--right, over +and under, through the guard and round the guard of the outfought +youngster the unclenched gloves totted up a score of points. There was +a careful restraint behind each blow, yet, when the gong sounded and +they smilingly shook hands amid tumults of enthusiasm, a thin red +stream was trickling from the right eyebrow of the amateur champion.... + +As they left the ring two boyish forms slipped through the ropes and +made their way to their respective corners. They both wore the +orthodox white singlet and blue shorts, and round each waist was +twisted the distinguishing coloured sash, one red and the other green. +They sat down with their gloved hands resting on their thin knees and +gravely surveyed the sea of expectant faces. Both bore traces of +previous conflicts on their features, and their united ages aggregated +something just over thirty. + +The Physical Training Officer again advanced to the ropes. "Final of +the Junior Officers' Light-weights!" he announced. "Midshipman +Harcourt on the left--green; Midshipman Mordaunt on my right--red," and +added the name of their ship. He looked from one to the other +interrogatively, and they nodded in turn. Stepping back he resumed his +seat amid a tense silence. + +"Seconds out of the ring!" + +Then the gong rang, and the two wiry figures rose to their feet and +stepped briskly to meet each other. The wearer of the green colours +was smiling, but his slim adversary looked grave and rather pale with +compressed lips. + +Their gloves met for an instant, and the fight started. There was +little or no preliminary sparring. Each knew the other's tactics by +heart. It was just grim, dogged, ding-dong fighting. In height and +weight they were singularly evenly matched, but Harcourt soon gave +evidences of being unquestionably the better boxer. He boxed coolly +and scientifically, but what his opponent lacked in style he made up in +determination. Twice his furious attacks drove Harcourt to the ropes, +and twice the latter extricated himself nimbly and good-humouredly. +Between the thud of gloves and the patter of their feet on the +canvas-covered boards their breathing was audible in the tense hush of +the ring-side. + +Ding! went the gong, and the first round was over. They walked to +their corners amid a tempest of appreciative applause, and were +instantly pounced upon by their anxious seconds. + +In one of the chairs just below the ring, Thorogood removed his pipe +from his mouth and turned his head to speak to Mouldy Jakes, who sat +beside him. + +"Good fight, eh?" he said, smiling. "Harcourt ought to win, of course, +but Mordaunt's fighting like a young tiger. He's no boxer, either. +I'm bothered if I know how he got into the finals." + +"Guts!" said the other. "Sheer guts! He won't last, though. +Harcourt'll start piling up the points in the next round." + +But when the second round started, Mordaunt developed unexpected skill +in defence. Harcourt led off with an offensive, but his opponent +dodged and ducked and guarded until the first fury of the onslaught +abated, and then a savage bout of in-fighting quickly equalised +matters, until as the end of the round approached disaster very nearly +overtook the red colours. Mordaunt swung rather wildly with his right +and missed. Harcourt's watchful left landed on the side of his +opponent's head as he lost his equilibrium, and Billy Mordaunt went +down with a thud. + +He was on his feet again the next instant, his eyes fairly alight with +battle, and his lip curled back savagely. In a whirlwind of smashing +blows he drove Harcourt to the ropes again, until a straight left +between the eyes sobered him. + +Ding! went the gong again, and again the applause burst out. The +seconds fell upon their men with furious energy. The water in the +basins was assuming a pinkish tinge, and they sponged and massaged and +flapped their towels as if striving to impart something of their own +vigour to their tired principals. The two combatants, breathing hard, +were leaning back with outstretched arms and legs, every muscle in +their resting bodies relaxed. + +"Harcourt ought to win, you know," said Thorogood again. "He's just as +fit and a better boxer. But he seems to be tiring.... He had a pretty +tough time in the heats, I fancy." + +"Seconds out of the ring! Last round!" came the Chaplain's voice. +Then the gong brought them to their feet. + +They shook hands unsmiling, and began to circle cautiously, sparring +for an opening. Then Harcourt led. It was a stinging blow and it +landed fair enough. Billy took it, and several more; for a moment it +looked as if he had shot his bolt. Then he seemed suddenly to gather +all his tiring strength. He feinted and hit lightly with his left. +Harcourt blocked it, then unexpectedly lowered his guard; a little +mocking smile flitted over his blood-smeared face. Billy's right came +in with every ounce of muscle and sinew in his body to back the jolt, +and it landed fair on the point of that flaunting chin so temptingly +offered. + +It seemed to Billy that Harcourt disappeared into a mist. There was a +thud and a great roar of voices and the sounds of clapping. + +"Stand back!" said a warning voice at the ring-side, and somewhere, +apparently in the distance, another voice was counting the deliberate +seconds: + +"... Five! Six! Seven!" + +The angry mist cleared away and revealed Harcourt sprawling on the +ground. He was leaning over on both hands, striving gallantly to rise. + +"... Eight! Nine!" + +The white figure with the green sash was on hands and knees, swaying---- + +The gong rang. Down and out! + +The referee glanced from one judge to the other and raised a little red +flag from the table. + +"Red wins!" he shouted. + +Unconscious of the deafening applause Billy bent down and slipped an +arm under his friend's shoulders. All the savage fighting blood in him +had suddenly cooled, and there was only pity and love for Harcourt in +his heart as he helped him to his feet. + +Harcourt's seconds had rushed into the ring as the gong rang, and they +now supported him to his corner. At his feeble request one unlaced the +glove from his right hand, which he extended to his late adversary with +a wan smile. + +"That was a good 'un, Billy," he said faintly. "My--head's--still +singing ... like a top! And--I taught it to you! ..." + + * * * * + +The distribution of prizes to the winners of the different weights +followed, and then the great gathering broke up. The Admirals departed +with their staffs in their respective barges, the Captains in their +galleys, Wardroom and Gunroom officers in the picket-boats. Figures +paced up and down the quarterdeck talking together in pairs; farewells +sounded at the gangways, and the hoot of the steamboats' syrens astern +mingled with the ceaseless calling of the gulls overhead. + +Harcourt and Mordaunt, descending the accommodation ladder in the rear +of the remainder of their party, were greeted by Morton, at the wheel +of the picket-boat, with a broad grin. + +"Come on," he ejaculated impatiently. "Hop in! We've got to get back +and be hoisted in. Who won the Light-weights by the same token?" + +"Billy did," replied Harcourt. He settled himself comfortably on top +of the cabin of the picket boat and pulled up the collar of his +greatcoat about his face. + +Morton jerked the engine-room telegraph and the boat moved off. + +"Why are we in such a hurry?" queried Harcourt. "Are we going out?" + +The boyish figure at the helm glanced aft to see his stern was clear, +and put the wheel over, heading the boat in the direction of their ship. + +"Yes," he said. "At least a signal has just come through ordering us +to raise steam for working cables at seven p.m." + +Lettigne, perched beside Mordaunt on the other side of the cabin-top, +leaned across. The crowded excitements of the afternoon had lapsed +into oblivion. + +"D'you mean the whole Fleet, or only just us?" he asked. + +"The whole Fleet," replied Morton, staring ahead between the twin +funnels of his boat. "I suppose it's the usual weary stunt; go out and +steam about trailing the tail of our coat for a couple of days, and +then come back again." The speaker gripped the spokes of the wheel +almost savagely. "Lord!" he added, "if only they'd come out...." + +Mordaunt fingered his nose gingerly. "They do come out occasionally, I +believe. You'd think their women 'ud boo them out.... They sneak +about behind their minefields and do exercises, and they cover their +Battle-cruisers when they nip out for a tip-and-run bombardment of one +of our watering-places. But we'll never catch 'em, although we can +stop them from being of the smallest use to Germany by just being where +we are." + +"We could catch them if they didn't know we were coming South," said +another Midshipman perched beside Mordaunt with his knees under his +chin. + +"But they always do know," said Harcourt over his shoulder. "Their +Zepps always see us coming and give them the tip to nip off home!" + +"Fog..." said Mordaunt musingly. + +"Yes," said another who had not hitherto spoken. "That 'ud do it all +right. But then you couldn't see to hit 'em. 'Sides, you can't count +on a fog coming on just when you want it." + +"Well," said Morton, with the air of one who was wearied by profitless +discussion. "Fog or no fog, I only hope they come out this time." + +He rang down "Slow" to the tiny engine-room underneath his feet, and +spun the wheel to bring the crowded boat alongside the port gangway. + + +A Fleet proceeds to sea in War-time with little or no outward +circumstance. There was no apparent increase of activity onboard the +the great fighting "townships" even on the eve of departure. As the +late afternoon wore on the Signal Department onboard the Fleet Flagship +was busy for a space, and the daylight signalling searchlights splashed +and spluttered while hoist after hoist of flags leaped from the signal +platform to yardarm or masthead; and ever as they descended fresh +successive tangles climbed to take their place. But after a while even +this ceased, and the Flagships of the squadrons, who had been taking it +all in, nodded sagely, as it were, and turned round to repeat for the +benefit of the ships of their individual squadrons such portions as +they required for their guidance. + +Then from their hidden anchorage the Destroyers moved past on their way +out, flotilla after flotilla in a dark, snake-like procession, swift, +silent, mysterious, and a little later the Cruisers and Light Cruisers +crept out in the failing light to take up their distant positions. On +each high forecastle the minute figures of men were visible moving +about the crawling cables, and from the funnels a slight increased haze +of smoke trembled upwards like the breath of war-horses in a frosty +landscape. + +One by one the dripping anchors hove in sight. The water under the +sterns of the Battleships was convulsed by whirling vortices as the +great steel-shod bulks turned cautiously towards the entrance, like +partners revolving in some solemn gigantic minuet. The dusk was fast +closing down, but a saffron bar of light in the West still limned the +dark outlines of the far-off hills. One by one the majestic fighting +ships moved into their allotted places in the line, and presently + + "Enormous, certain, slow...." + +the lines began to move in succession towards the entrance and the open +sea. + +The light died out of the western sky altogether, and like great grey +shadows the last of the Battle-squadrons melted into the mystery of the +night. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"SWEETHEARTS AND WIVES" + +Betty finished her breakfast very slowly; she had dawdled over it, not +because there was anything wrong with her appetite, but because the +days were long and meals made a sort of break in the monotony. She +rose from the table at length and walked to the open casement window; a +cat, curled up on the rug in front of the small wood fire, opened one +eye and blinked contemplatively at the slim figure in the silk shirt, +the short brown tweed skirt above the brown-stockinged ankles, and +finally at the neat brogues, one of which was tapping meditatively on +the carpet. Then he closed his eyes again. + +"Would it be to-day?" wondered Betty for about the thousandth time in +the last eight days. She stared out across the little garden, the +broad stretch of pasture beyond the dusty road that ended in a confused +fringe of trees bordering the blue waters of the Firth. A flotilla of +Destroyers that had been lying at anchor overnight had slipped from +their buoys and were slowly circling towards the distant entrance to +the harbour. Beyond the Firth the hills rose again, vividly green and +crowned with trees. + +A thrush in the unseen kitchen garden round a corner of the cottage +rehearsed a few bars of his spring song. + +"It might be to-day," he sang. "It might, it might, it might--or it +mightn't!" He stopped abruptly. + +Eight days had passed somehow since an enigmatic telegram from the +India-rubber Man had brought Betty flying up to Scotland with hastily +packed trunks and a singing heart. + +Somehow she had expected him to meet her at the little station she +reached about noon after an all-night journey of incredible +discomforts. But no India-rubber Man had been there to welcome her; +instead a pretty girl with hair of a rusty gold, a year or two her +senior, had come forward rather shyly and greeted her. + +"Are you Mrs. Standish?" she asked, smiling. + +Despite the six-months-old wedding ring on her hand, Betty experienced +a faint jolt of surprise at hearing herself thus addressed. + +"Yes," she said, and glanced half-expectantly up and down the platform. +"I hoped my husband would be here ..." + +The stranger shook her head. "I'm afraid his squadron hasn't come in +yet," she said, and added reassuringly, "But it won't be long now. +Your sister wrote and told me you were coming up. My name's Etta +Clavering...." + +"Oh, thank you," said Betty. "You got me rooms, didn't you--and I'm so +grateful to you." + +"Not at all," said the other. "It's rather a job getting them as a +rule, but these just happened to be vacant. Rather nice ones: nice +woman, too. No bath, of course, but up here you get used to tubbing in +your basin, and--and little things like that. But everything's nice +and clean, and that's more than some of the places are." They had +sorted out Betty's luggage while Mrs. Clavering was talking, and left +it with the porter to bring on. "We can walk," said Betty's guide. +"It's quite close, and I expect you won't be sorry to stretch your +legs." + +They skirted a little village of grey stone cottages straggling on +either side of a broad street towards a wooded glen, down which a river +wound brawling to join the waters of the Firth. Cottages and little +shops alternated, and half-way up the street a rather more pretentious +hotel of quarried stone rose above the level of the roofs. Hills +formed a background to the whole, with clumps of dark fir clinging to +their steep slopes, and in the far distance snow-capped mountains stood +like pale opals against the blue sky. The air was keen and +invigorating, and little clouds like a flock of sheep drifted overhead. + +Mrs. Clavering led the way past the village towards a neat row of +cottages on the brow of a little hill about a quarter of a mile behind +it, and as they ascended a steep lane she turned and pointed with her +ashplant. A confusion of chimneys, cranes and wharves were shrouded in +a haze of smoke and the kindly distance. + +"You see," she said, "you can almost see the harbour from your house. +That's where the ships lie when they come in here. This is your abode. +They'll send your luggage up presently. I hope you'll be comfortable. +No, I won't come in now. I expect you're tired after travelling all +night. You must come and have tea with me, and meet some of the +others." She laughed and turned to descend the hill, stopping again a +few paces down to wave a friendly stick. + +Etta Clavering occupied a low-ceilinged room above a baker's shop in +the village, and had strewn it about with books and photographs and +nick-nacks until the drab surroundings seemed to reflect a little of +her dainty personality. Thither, later in the day, she took Betty off +to tea and introduced her to a tall fair girl with abundant hair and a +gentle, rippling laugh that had in it the quality of running water. + +"We belong to the same squadron," she said. "I'm glad we've met now, +because directly our husbands' ships come in we shall never see each +other!" She turned to Etta Clavering. "It's like that up here, isn't +it? We sit in each other's laps all day till our husbands arrive, and +then we simply can't waste a minute to be civil ...!" + +She laughed her soft ripple of amusement, cut short by the entrance of +another visitor. She was older than the other three: a sweet, rather +grave-faced woman with patient eyes that looked as if they had watched +and waited through a great many lonelinesses. There was something +tender, almost protecting, in her smile as she greeted Betty. + +"You have only just come North, haven't you?" she asked. "The latest +recruit to our army of--waiters, I was going to say, but it sounds +silly. Waitresses hardly seems right either, does it? Anyhow, I hope +you won't have to wait for very long." + +"I hope not," said Betty, a trifle forlornly. + +"So do I," said the tall fair girl whose name was Eileen Cavendish. "I +am developing an actual liver out of sheer jealousy of some of these +women whose husbands are on leave. When Bill comes I shall hang on his +arm in my best 'clinging-ivy-and-the-oak' style, and walk him up and +down outside the hateful creatures' windows! It'll be _their_ turn to +gnash their teeth then!" + +Betty joined in the laughter. "Are there many of--of Us up here?" she +asked. + +"There are as many as the village will hold, and every farm and byre +and cow-shed for about six miles round," replied Mrs. Gascoigne, the +new-comer. "And, of course, the little town, about four miles from +here, near where the ships anchor, simply couldn't hold another wife if +you tried to lever one in with a shoe-horn!" + +"And then," continued their hostess, measuring out the tea into the +pot, "of course, there are some selfish brutes who stay on all the +time--I'm one of them," she added pathetically. "But it's no use being +a hypocrite about it. I'd stay on if they all put me in Coventry and I +had to pawn my wedding ring to pay for my rooms. One feels nearer, +somehow.... Do sit down all of you. There's nothing to eat except +scones and jam, but the tea is nice and hot, and considering I bought +it at that little shop near the manse, it looks and smells very like +real tea." + +"I suppose, then, all the rooms are dreadfully expensive," said Betty. + +"Expensive!" echoed the fair girl, consuming her buttered scone with +frank enjoyment. "You could live at the Ritz or Waldorf a good deal +cheaper than in some of these crofter's cottages. You see, until the +War began they never let anything in their lives. No one ever wanted +to come and live here. Of course, there are nice women--like your Miss +McCallum, for example--who won't take advantage of the enormous demand, +and stick to reasonable prices. More honour to them! But if you could +see some of the hovels for which they are demanding six and seven +guineas a week--and, what's more, getting it...." + +"I'm afraid we are giving Mrs. Standish an altogether rather gloomy +picture of the place," said Mrs. Gascoigne. She turned to Betty with a +reassuring smile. "You don't have to pay anything to be out of doors," +she said. "That much is free, even here; it's perfectly delightful +country, and when the weather improves a bit we have picnics and walks +and even do a little fishing in an amateurish sort of way. It all +helps to pass the time...." + +"But it's not only the prices that turn one's hair grey up here," +continued Mrs. Cavendish. "That little Mrs. Thatcher--her husband is +in a Destroyer or something--told me that her landlady has false +teeth...." The speaker extended a slender forefinger, to which she +imparted a little wriggling motion. "They wobble ... like that--when +she talks. She always talks when she brings in meals.... I suppose +it's funny, really----" She lapsed into her liquid giggle. "But poor +Mrs. Thatcher nearly cried when she told me about it. Imagine! Week +in, week out. Every meal.... and trying not to look...! She said it +made her want to scream." + +"I should certainly scream," said Mrs. Gascoigne, who had finished her +tea and was preparing to take her departure. "Now I must be off. I've +promised to go and sit with Mrs. Daubney. She's laid up, poor thing, +and it's so dull for her all alone in those stuffy rooms." She held +out her hand to Betty. "I hope we shall see a lot more of each other," +she said prettily. "We're going to show you some of the walks round +here, and we'll take our tea out to the woods.... I hope you'll be +happy up here." + +The door closed behind her, and Eileen Cavendish explored the room in +search of cigarettes. "Sybil Gascoigne is a dear," she observed. + +"On the little table, there," said the hostess. "In that box. Do you +smoke, Mrs. Standish?" Mrs. Standish, it appeared, did not. "Throw me +one, Eileen." She caught and lit it with an almost masculine neatness. +"Yes," she continued, "she's perfectly sweet. Her husband is a senior +Post-captain, and there isn't an atom of 'side' or snobbishness in her +composition. She is just as sweet to that hopelessly dull and dreary +Daubney woman as she is to--well, to charming and well-bred attractions +like ourselves!" The speaker laughingly blew a cloud of smoke and +turned to Betty. "In a sense, this war has done us good. You've never +lived in a Dockyard Port, though. You don't know the insane snobberies +and the ludicrous little castes that flourished in pre-war days." + +"I dare say you're right," said Eileen Cavendish. She moved idly about +the room examining photographs and puffing her cigarette. "But even +the War isn't going to make me fall on the neck of a woman I don't +like. But I'm talking like a cat. It's not seeing Bill for so +long...." + +Mrs. Clavering smiled. "No," she said, "I agree there are limits. But +up here, what does it matter if a woman's husband is an Engineer or a +Paymaster or a Commander or only an impecunious Lieutenant like +mine--as long as she is nice? Yet if it weren't for people like Sybil +Gascoigne we should all be clinging to our ridiculous little pre-war +sets, and talking of branches and seniority till we died of loneliness +and boredom with our aristocratic noses in the air.... As it is, I +don't believe even Sybil Gascoigne could have done it if she hadn't +been the Honourable Mrs. Gascoigne. That carried her over some pretty +rough ground, childish though it sounds." + +"Bong Song!" interposed Mrs. Cavendish flippantly. "As----" She broke +off abruptly. "There I go again! There's no doubt about it: I have +got a liver ... I think I'll go home and write to Bill. That always +does me good." + +That tea-party was the first of many similar informal gatherings of +grass-widows in poky rooms and cottage parlours. They were quite young +for the most part, and many were pretty. They drank each other's tea +and talked about their husbands and the price of things, and +occasionally of happenings in an incredibly remote past when one hunted +and went to dances and bought pretty frocks. + +It was Etta Clavering who conducted Betty round the village shops on +the morning after her arrival, where she was introduced to the small +Scottish shopkeeper getting rich quick, and the unedifying revelation +of naked greed cringing behind every tiny counter. + +Through Eileen Cavendish, moreover, she secured the goodwill of a +washerwoman. + +"My dear," said her benefactress, "money won't tempt them. They've got +beyond that. They've got to like you before they will wring out a +stocking for you. But I'll take you to the Widow Twankey; I'm one of +her protégées, and she shows her affection for me by feeling for my +ribs with her first two fingers to punctuate her remarks with prods. +It always makes me hysterical. She has only got two teeth, and they +don't meet." + +So the Widow Twankey was sought out, and Betty stood and looked +appealingly humble while Etta Cavendish suffered her ribs to be prodded +in a good cause, and the Widow agreed to "wash for" Betty at rates that +would have brought blushes to the cheeks of a Parisian _blanchisseuse +de fin_. + +With Mrs. Gascoigne, Betty explored the heathery moors where the +distraught pee-wits were already nesting, and the cool, clean air blew +down from the snowy Grampians, bracing the walkers like a draught of +iced wine. They even climbed some of the nearer hills, forcing their +way through the tangled spruce-branches and undergrowth to the summit, +from where the distant North Sea itself was visible, lying like a grey +menace to their peace. + +They would return from these expeditions by the path down the glen that +wound close to the brawling river; here, in the evenings, sometimes +with an unexpectedness embarrassing to both parties, they met some of +the reunited couples whom Eileen Cavendish found it hard to contemplate +unmoved; occasionally the fingers of such couples were interlaced, and +they talked very earnestly as they walked. + +On fine days the husbandless wives organised picnics and boiled the +kettle over a fire of twigs. On these occasions the arrangements were +generally in the hands of a fat, jolly woman everyone called "Mrs. +Pat." She it was who chose the site, built the fire with gipsy +cunning, and cut the forked sticks on which the kettle hung. The meal +over, Mrs. Pat would produce a blackened cigarette holder and sit and +smoke with reflective enjoyment while she translated the rustling, +furtive sounds of life in brake and hedge-row around them for the +benefit of anyone who cared to listen. No one knew whence she had +acquired such mysterious completeness of knowledge. It was as if an +invisible side of her walked hand in hand with Nature; sap oozing from +a bursting bud, laden bee or fallen feather, each was to Mrs. Pat the +chapter of a vast romance: and if she bored anyone with her +interpretation of it, they had only got to get up and go for a walk. + +She had a niece staying with her, the fiancée of a Lieutenant in her +husband's ship, a slim thing with blue eyes and a hint of the Overseas +in the lazy, unstudied grace of her movements. She spoke sparingly, +and listened to the conversation of the others with her eyes always on +the distant grey shadow that was the sea. Thus the days passed. + +In the evenings Betty read or knitted and inveigled her stout, kindly +landlady into gossip on the threshold while she cleared away the +evening meal, and so the morning of the ninth day found Betty staring +out of her window, listening for the thrush to begin again its +haunting, unfinished song. + +An object moving rapidly along the top of the hedge that skirted the +lane leading to the cottage caught her eye; she watched it until the +hedge terminated, when it resolved itself into the top of Eileen +Cavendish's hat. Her pretty face was pink with exertion and +excitement, and she moved at a gait suggestive of both running and +walking. + +Betty greeted her at the gateway of her little garden, and her heart +quickened as she ran to meet the bearer of tidings. + +"My dear," gasped Mrs. Cavendish, "they're coming in this morning. +Mrs. Monro--that's my landlady--has a brother in the town: I forget +what he does there, but he always knows." + +For an instant the colour ebbed from Betty's cheeks, and then her +beating heart sent it surging back again. + +"But----" she said. "Does that mean that our squadron is coming in?" + +"Of course it does, silly! Get your hat quick, and we'll climb up to +the top of the hill and see if we can get a glimpse of them coming in. +You'll have plenty of time to get down again and powder your nose +before your Bunje-man, or whatever you call him, can get ashore. +Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!" + +Together they toiled up the hill to the high stretch of moorland from +which a view of the entrance to the Firth could be obtained. + +"This is where I always come," said Eileen Cavendish. She stopped and +panted for breath. "Ouf! I'm getting fat and short-winded. How long +is it since you've seen your husband?" + +Betty considered. "Three months and seventeen days," was the reply. + +Her companion nodded. + +"It's rotten, isn't it? But now--at times like this, I almost feel as +if it's--worth it, I was going to say; but I suppose it's hardly that. +I always vowed I'd never marry a sailor, and ever since I did I've felt +sorry for all the women with other kinds of husbands.... Bill is such +a dear!" + +They found seats in the lee of a stack of peat and sat down side by +side to watch the distant entrance. A faint grey haze beyond the +headlands on either side of the mouth of the harbour held the outer sea +in mystery. + +"There's nothing in sight," said Betty. + +"No," said the other, "but there will be, presently. You wait." She +put her elbows on her knees and rested her face in the cup of her two +hands. "You haven't got used to waiting yet," she continued. "It +seems to have made up half my life since I met Bill. I had a little +daughter once, and it didn't matter so much then.... But she died, the +mite..." + +No Battleships had emerged from the blue-grey curtain of the mist when +lunch-time came; nothing moved across the surface of the empty harbour, +and they descended the hill to share the meal in Betty's room. + +"Perhaps they won't be in till after tea," suggested Betty. "Perhaps +the fog has delayed them." + +"Perhaps," said the other. + +So they put tea in a Thermos flask, and bread-and-butter and a slice of +cake apiece in a little basket, and climbed again to their vantage +point in the lee of the peat stack. They read novels and talked in +desultory snatches through the afternoon. Then they had tea and told +each other about the books they were reading. But as their shadows +lengthened across the blaeberry and heather, the silences grew longer, +and Betty, striving to concentrate her interest on her book, found the +page grow suddenly blurred and incomprehensible.... + +"It's getting chilly," said the elder girl at length. She rose to her +feet with a little involuntary shiver, and stood for a moment staring +out towards the sea. "I wonder..." she began, and her voice trailed +off into silence. Betty began slowly to repack the basket. "Sometimes +I pray," said Eileen Cavendish, "when I want things to happen very +much. And sometimes I just hold my thumbs like a pagan. Sometimes I +do both. Let's do both now." + +So they sat silent side by side; one held her breath and the other held +her thumbs, but only the dusk crept in from the sea. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE BATTLE OF THE MIST + +Thorogood, Lieutenant of the Afternoon Watch, climbed the ladder to the +upper bridge as the bell struck the half-hour after noon. A blue +worsted muffler, gift and handiwork of an aunt on the outbreak of war, +enfolded his neck. He wore a pair of glasses in a case slung over one +shoulder and black leather gauntlet-gloves. + +The Officer of the Forenoon Watch, known among his messmates as +Tweedledee, was focusing the range-finder on the ship ahead of them in +the line; he looked round as the new-comer appeared, and greeted him +with a grin. + +"Hullo, James," he said. "Your afternoon watch? Well, here you are." +He made a comprehensive gesture embracing the vast Fleet that was +spread out over the waters as far as the eye could reach. + +"Divisions in line ahead, columns disposed abeam, course S.E. Speed, +15 knots. Glass low and steady. The Cruisers are ahead there, beyond +the Destroyers," he nodded ahead. "But you can't see them because of +the mist. The Battle-cruisers are somewhere beyond them again, with +their Light Cruisers and Destroyers--about thirty miles to the +southward. The hands are at dinner and all is peace. She's keeping +station quite well now." The speaker moved to the range-finder again +and peered into it at the next ahead. "Right to a yard, James." + +Thorogood nodded. "Thank you: I hope I'll succeed in keeping her +there. Any news?" + +"News?" The other laughed. "What about?" + +"Well," replied Thorogood, "the perishing Hun, let's say." + +The Navigator, thoughtfully biting the end of a pencil, came out of the +chart-house with a note-book in his hand, in which he had been working +out the noon reckoning. + +"Pilot," said the departing Officer of the Forenoon Watch, "James is +thirsting for news of the enemy." + +"Optimist!" replied the Navigator composedly. "News, indeed! This +isn't Wolff's Agency, my lad. This is a Cook's tour of the North Sea." +He sniffed the damp, salt breeze. "Bracing air, change of scenery: no +undue excitement--sort of rest cure, in fact. And you come along +exhibiting a morbid craving for excitement." + +"I know," said Thorogood meekly. "It's the effect of going to the +cinematograph. All the magistrates are talking about it. They say +Charlie Chaplin's got something to do with it. I suppose, though, +there's no objection to my asking what the disposition of our Light +Cruisers happens to be, is there? It's prompted more by a healthy +desire to improve my knowledge before I take over the afternoon watch +than anything else." + +"They're out on the starboard quarter," replied the late Officer of the +Watch. "You can't see them because of this cursed mist, but they're +there." + +"Strikes me this afternoon watch is going to be more of a faith cure +than a rest cure as the Pilot suggests," grumbled Thorogood. +"Battle-cruisers somewhere ahead, Cruisers invisible in the mist, Light +Cruisers----" + +The report of a gun, followed almost instantly by a loud explosion, +came from far away on the port bow. A Destroyer that had altered +course was resuming her position in the Destroyer line on the outskirts +of the Fleet. A distant column of smoke and spray was slowly +dissolving into the North Sea haze. + +At the report of the gun the three men raised their glasses to stare in +the direction of the sound. "Only one of the Huns' floating mines," +said the Navigator. "She exploded it with her 8-pounder. Pretty shot." + +"Well," said Tweedledee, "I can't stay here all day. Anything else you +want to know, James? What's for lunch? I'm devilish hungry." + +"Boiled beef and carrots," replied Thorogood. "_Mit_ apple tart and +cream: the Messman can't be well. Pills says its squando-mania. No, I +don't think I want to know any more. I suppose the log's written up?" + +"It is. Now for the boiled beef, and this afternoon Little Bright-eyes +is going to get his head down and have a nice sleep." + +The speaker prepared to depart. + +"Hold on," said the Navigator. "I'm coming with you. I've just got to +give the noon position to the Owner on the way." + +They descended the ladder together, and left Thorogood alone on the +platform. + +The Battle-fleet was steaming in parallel lines about a mile apart, +each Squadron in the wake of its Flagship. The Destroyers, strung out +on either flank of the Battle-fleet, were rolling steadily in the long, +smooth swell, leaving a smear of smoke in their trail. Far away in the +mist astern flickered a very bright light: the invisible Light Cruisers +must be there, reflected Thorogood, and presently from the Fleet +Flagship came a succession of answering blinks. The light stopped +flickering out of the mist. + +The speed at which the Fleet was travelling sent the wind thrumming +through the halliards and funnel stays and past Thorogood's ears with a +little whistling noise; otherwise few sounds reached him at the +altitude at which he stood. On the signal-platform below, a number of +signalmen were grouped round the flag-lockers with the halliards in +their hands in instant readiness to hoist a signal. The Signal +Boatswain had steadied his glass against a semaphore, and was studying +something on the misty outskirts of the Fleet. The Quartermaster at +the wheel was watching the compass card with a silent intensity that +made his face look as if it had been carved in bronze. The +telegraph-men maintained a conversation that was pitched in a low, deep +note inaudible two yards away. It concerned the photograph of a mutual +lady acquaintance, and has no place in this narrative. + +Thorogood moved to the rail and looked down at the familiar forecastle +and teeming upper-deck, thirty feet below. Seen thus from above, the +grey, sloping shields of the turrets, each with its great twin guns, +looked like gigantic mythical tortoises with two heads and +disproportionately long necks. It was the dinner hour, and men were +moving about, walking up and down, or sitting about in little groups +smoking. Some were playing cards in places sheltered from the wind and +spray; near the blacksmith's forge a man was stooping patiently over a +small black object: Thorogood raised his glasses for a moment and +recognised the ship's cat, reluctantly undergoing instruction in +jumping through the man's hands. + +The cooks of the Messes were wending their way in procession to the +chutes at the ship's sides, carrying mess-kettles containing scraps and +slops from the mess-deck dinner. For an instant the Officer of the +Watch, looking down from that altitude and cut off from all sounds but +that of the wind, experienced a feeling of unfamiliar detachment from +the pulsating mass of metal beneath his feet. He had a vision of the +electric-lit interior of the great ship, deck beneath deck, with men +everywhere. Men rolled up in coats and oilskins, snatching +half-an-hour's sleep along the crowded gun-batteries, men writing +letters to sweethearts and wives, men laughing and quarrelling, or +singing low-toned, melancholy ditties as they mended worn garments: +hundreds and hundreds of reasoning human entities were crowded in those +steel-walled spaces, each with his boundless hopes and affections, his +separate fears and vices and conceptions of the Deity, and his small, +incommunicable distresses.... + +Beneath all that again, far below the surface of the grey North Sea, +were men, moving about purring turbines and dynamos and webs of +stupendous machinery, silently oiling, testing and adjusting a thousand +moving joints of metal. There were adjoining caverns lit by the glare +of furnaces that shone red on the glistening faces of men, silent +vaults and passages where the projectiles were ranged in sinister +array, and chilly spaces in which the electric light was reflected from +the burnished and oiled torpedoes that hung in readiness above the +submerged tubes. + +Thorogood raised his eyes and stared out across the vast array of the +Battle-fleet. Obedient to the message flashed from the Flagship a few +minutes earlier, the Light Cruisers that had been invisible on the +quarter now emerged from behind the curtain of the mist and were +rapidly moving up to a new position. Presently the same mysterious, +soundless voice spoke again: + + YOU ARE MAKING TOO MUCH SMOKE + +blinked the glittering searchlight, and anon in the stokeholds of the +end ship of the lee line there was the stokehold equivalent for weeping +and wailing and the gnashing of teeth.... + +For a couple of hours the Fleet surged onwards in silence and unchanged +formation. The swift Light Cruisers had overtaken the advancing +Battle-fleet, and vanished like wraiths into the haze ahead. The +Captain and the Navigator had joined Thorogood on the bridge, and were +poring over the chart and talking in low voices. The Midshipman of the +Watch stood with eyes glued to the range-finder, turning his head at +intervals to report the distance of the next ahead to the Officer of +the Watch. + +A messenger from the Coding Officer tumbled pell-mell up the ladder and +handed a piece of folded paper to the Captain, saluted, turned on his +heel and descended the ladder again. The Captain unfolded the signal +and read with knitted brows. Then he turned quickly to the chart again. + +For a moment he was busy with dividers and parallel-rulers; when he +raised his head his eyes were alight with a curiously restrained +excitement. + +"Rather interesting," he said, and passed the paper to the Navigator +who read it in turn and grinned like a schoolboy. + +"They have probably caught a raiding party in the mist, sir," he said, +and bent over the chart. + +Thorogood picked up the message and pursed his lips up in a short, +soundless whistle. + +"It's too much to hope that their main fleet's out," he said. + +"Their main fleet's sure to be in support somewhere," replied the +Captain. "It's a question whether they realise we're all down on top +of 'em, though, and nip for home before we catch them." + +A second messenger flung himself, panting, up the ladder, and handed in +a second message. + +"Intercepted wireless to Flag, sir." + +The Captain read it and took a breath that was like a sigh of relief. +"At last!" he said. + +The Navigator turned from the chart. + +"_Der Tag_, sir?" he asked interrogatively with a smile. + +The Captain nodded ahead at the haze curtaining all the horizon. "If +we catch 'em," he replied. + +The signal platform was awhirl with bunting; the voice of the Chief +Yeoman repeating hoists rose above the stamp of feet and the flapping +of flags in the wind. + +Thorogood turned to the Navigator. "Will you take on now?" he asked in +a low voice. "If the balloon's really going up this time I'd better +get along to my battery." + +As he descended the ladder the upper-deck was ringing with bugle-calls, +and the turrets' crews were already swarming round their guns. From +the hatchways leading to the lower-deck came a great roar of cheering. +Men poured up on their way to their action stations in a laughing, +rejoicing throng. Mouldy Jakes, with the ever-faithful Midshipman of +his turret at his side, was hurrying to his beloved guns, and greeted +Thorogood as he passed with a sidelong jerk of the head and the first +whole-souled smile of enjoyment a mess-mate had ever surprised on his +face. Further aft the Captain of Marines was standing on the roof of +his slowly revolving turret: + +"Buck up, James," he shouted merrily. "'Johnnie, get your gun, there's +a cat in the garden'--We're going to see Life in a minute, my lad!" + +He was right, but they were also destined to see Death, holding red +carnival. + +Thorogood waved his arm and shouted an inarticulate reply as he ran aft +to the hatchway leading to the cabin flat. Officers were rushing past +on their way to their posts, exchanging chaff and conjecture as they +went. Thorogood descended to the cabin flat, jerked back the curtain +of his cabin, and hurriedly entered the familiar apartment. Opening a +drawer he snatched up a gas-mask and a packet containing first-aid +appliances which he thrust into the pocket of his swimming waistcoat, +together with a flask and a small tin of compressed meat lozenges. +Once before, earlier in the war, he had fought for life clinging to a +floating spar. Then succour had come in a comparatively short time, +but the experience had not been without its lesson. + +He made for the door again and then paused on the threshold +hesitatingly. "Might as well," he said, and turning back picked up a +small photograph in a folding morocco frame and thrust it +half-shamefacedly into an inside pocket. + +As he emerged into the flat again he met Gerrard, the Assistant +Paymaster, struggling into a thick coat outside the door of his cabin. + +"Hullo!" laughed the A.P. "Having a last look at the old home, James?" + +Thorogood patted his pockets. "Just taking in provisions in case I +have to spend the week-end on a raft. What's your action station?" + +"Fore-top," was the reply. "Taking notes of the action. Now, have I +got everything? Thermos flask--watch--note-book--glasses--right! _En +avant, mon brave!_" + +Thorogood reached the 6-inch battery breathless, and found the guns' +crews busy tricing up their mess-tables overhead. The Gunner was +passing along the crowded deck ahead of him. He stopped opposite the +after gun: + +"They're out, lads!" he said grimly. "Give 'em hell, this time. Clear +away and close up round your guns--smartly then, my hearties!" + +From the other side of the deck came the voice of Tweedledee giving +orders to his battery, raised above the clatter of the ammunition +hoists, the thud of projectiles as they were placed in the rear of each +gun, the snap and clang of the breech as the guns were loaded.... + +Fire and wreckage parties stood in little groups along the main-deck, +and first-aid parties were gathered at the hatchways; two Midshipmen, +pale and bright-eyed with excitement, talked in low voices by the +foremost gun: gradually a tense hush closed down upon the main deck; +the crews stood silent round their guns, waiting in their steel-walled +casemates for the signal that would galvanise them into death-dealing +activity against the invisible foe. + +Ultimate victory no man doubted: death might sweep, swift and +shattering, along these electric-lit enclosed spaces where they stood +waiting; the great ship was being driven head-long by unseen forces +towards an unseen foe. But of that foe, none of the hundreds of men +between decks save the straining gunlayers with their eyes at the +sighting-telescopes would ever catch a single glimpse. + +The silence was riven by a roaring concussion that seemed to shake the +framework of the ship. The great turret guns on the upper deck had +opened fire with a salvo, and, as if released by the explosion, a burst +of frantic cheering leaped from every throat and echoed and +reverberated along the decks. Somewhere in the outside world of mist +and sea, under the grey Northern sky, the Battle-Fleet action had begun. + + * * * * * + +The fore-top was a semi-circular eyrie, roofed and walled with steel, +that projected from the fore topmast some distance above the giant +tripod. It was reached by iron rungs let into the mast, and here +Gerrard, with the din of bugles and the cheering still ringing in his +ears, joined the assembled officers and men whose station it was in +action. + +From that dizzy elevation it was possible to take in the disposition of +the vast Fleet at a single glance. It was like looking down on model +ships spread out over a grey carpet preparatory to a children's game. +A white flicker of foam at each blunt ram and the wind singing past the +hooded top alone gave any indication of the speed at which the ships +were advancing. It was an immense monochrome of grey. Grey ships with +the White Ensign flying free on each: grey sea flecked here and there +by the diverging bow-waves breaking as they met: a grey sky along which +the smoke trailed sullenly and gathered in a dense, low-lying cloud +that mingled with the haze astern. + +The Lieutenant in the top drew Gerrard to his side. "Put your head +down here," he said, "out of the wind ... can you hear?" There was a +queer ring of exultation in his voice. "Guns!" + +Gerrard bent down and strained all his faculties to listen. For a +moment he heard nothing but the hum of the wind and the vibration of +the engines transmitted by the mast. Then, faint and intermittent, +like the far-off grumble of a gathering thunderstorm, his ear caught a +sound that sent all his pulses hammering. + +"Thank God I've lived to hear that noise!" muttered the Lieutenant. He +straightened up, staring ahead through his glasses in the direction of +the invisible fight. + +For a while no one spoke. The tense minutes dragged by as the sounds +of firing grew momentarily more distinct. The uncertain outline of the +near horizon was punctuated by vivid flashes of flame from the guns of +the approaching enemy. They were still hidden by the mist and +apparently unconscious of the Battle-Fleet bearing down upon them like +some vast, implacable instrument of doom. The target of their guns +suddenly became visible as the Battle-cruisers appeared on the +starboard bow, moving rapidly across the limit of vision like a line of +grey phantoms spitting fire and destruction as they went. Misty +columns of foam that leaped up from the water all about them showed +that they were under heavy fire. + +The Battle-Fleet was deploying into Line of Battle, Squadron forming up +astern of Squadron in a single line of mailed monsters extending far +into the haze that was momentarily closing in upon them. The curtain +ahead was again pierced by a retreating force of Cruisers beaten back +on the protection of the Battle-Fleet and ringed by leaping waterspouts +as the enemy's salvos pursued them. + +As yet the enemy were invisible, but when the last ship swung into +deployment the mist cleared for a moment and disclosed them amid a +cloud of smoke and the furious flashes of guns. The moment had come, +and all along the extended British battle-line the turret guns opened +fire with a roar of angry sound that seemed to split the grey vault of +heaven. As if to mock them in that supreme instant the mist swirled +across again and hid the German Fleet wheeling round in panic flight. + +The gases belched from the muzzles of the guns, together with the smoke +of hundreds of funnels caught and held by the encircling mist, reeled +to and fro across the spouting water and mingled with the grey clouds +from bursting shell. Through it all the two Fleets, the pursuing and +the pursued, grappled in blindfold headlong fury. + +Thorogood's battery was on the disengaged side of the ship during the +earlier phases of the action. Across the deck they heard the guns of +Tweedledee's battery open fire with a roar, and then the cheering of +the crews, mingled with the cordite fumes, was drowned by an +ear-splitting detonation in the confined spaces of the mess deck, +followed by a blinding flash of light. + +Tweedledee was flung from where he was standing to pitch brokenly at +the foot of the hatchway, like a rag doll flung down by a child in a +passion. He lay outstretched, face downwards, with his head resting on +his forearm as if asleep. Most of the lights had been extinguished by +the explosion, but a pile of cartridges in the rear of one of the guns +had caught fire and burned fiercely, illuminating everything with a +yellow glare. + +Lettigne, Midshipman of the battery, was untouched; deafened and +deathly sick he took command of the remaining guns. He, who ten +seconds before had never even seen death, was slithering about dimly +lit decks, slippery with what he dared not look at, encouraging and +steadying the crews, and helping to extinguish the burning cordite. In +darkened corners, where they had been thrown by the explosion, men were +groaning and dying.... + +That shell had been one of several that had struck the ship +simultaneously. Mouldy Jakes opened his eyes to see a streak of light +showing through a jagged rip in a bulkhead. The light was red and hurt +his eyes: he passed his hand across his face, and it was wet with a +warm stickiness. His vision cleared, however, and for a few moments he +studied the drops of water that were dripping from the gash in the +plating. "Crying!" he said stupidly. The shells that pitched short +had deluged the fore-part of the ship with water, and it was still +dripping into the interior of the turret. Mouldy Jakes raised his +head, and a yard or two away saw Morton. The breech of one of the guns +was open, and Morton was lying limply over the huge breech-block. The +machinery was smashed and twisted, and mixed up with it were dead men +and bits of men.... + +A little while later the Fleet Surgeon, splashed with red to the +elbows, glanced up from his work in the fore-distributing station and +saw a strange figure descending the hatchway. It was Mouldy Jakes: his +scalp was torn so that a red triangular patch hung rakishly over one +eye. Flung over his shoulder was the limp form of an unconscious +Midshipman. For a moment he stood swaying, steadying himself with +outstretched hand against the rail of the ladder. + +"Thought I'd better bring him along," he gasped. "Turret's knocked to +hell.... He's still alive, but he's broken all to little bits inside +... I can feel him... Morton, snottie of my turret ..." + +Sickberth Stewards relieved him of his burden, and Mouldy Jakes sat +down on the bottom rung of the ladder and began to whimper like a +distraught child. "It's my hand..." he said plaintively, and extended +a trembling, shattered palm. "I've only just noticed it." + + +With his eye glued to the periscope of his turret the India-rubber Man +was fidgeting and swearing softly under his breath at the exasperating +treachery of the fog. The great guns under his control roared at +intervals, but before the effect of the shell-burst could be observed +the enemy would be swallowed from sight. Once, at the commencement of +the action, he thought of Betty; he thought of her tenderly and +reverently, and then put her out of his mind.... + + +Lanes of unexpected visibility opened while an eye-lid winked, and +disclosed a score of desperate fights passing and reappearing like +scenes upon a screen. A German Battleship, near and quite distinct, +was in sight for a moment, listing slowly over with her guns pointing +upwards like the fingers of a distraught hand, and as she sank the mist +closed down again as it were a merciful curtain drawn to hide a horror. +An enemy Cruiser dropped down the engaged side of the line like an +exhausted participator in a Bacchanal of Furies. Her sides were riven +and gaping, with a red glare showing through the rents. Her decks were +a ruined shambles of blackened, twisted metal, but she still spat +defiance from a solitary gun, and sank firing as the fight swept past. + +Hither and thither rolled the fog, blotting out the enemy at one +moment, at another disclosing swift and awful cataclysms. A British +Cruiser, dodging and zigzagging through a tempest of shells, blew up. +She changed on the instant into a column of black smoke and wreckage +that leaped up into the outraged sky; it trembled there like a dark +monument to the futile hate of man for his brother man and slowly +dissolved into the mist. A German Destroyer attack crumpled up in the +blast of the 6-inch batteries of the British Fleet, and the British +Destroyers dashed to meet their crippled onslaught as vultures might +swoop on blinded wolves. They fought at point-blank range, asking no +quarter, expecting none; they fought over decks ravaged by shrapnel and +piled with dead. The sea was thick with floating corpses and shattered +wreckage, and darkened with patches of oil that marked the grave of a +rammed Submarine or sunken Destroyer. Maimed and bleeding men dragged +themselves on to rafts and cheered their comrades as they left them to +their death. + +Through that witches' cauldron of fog and shell-smoke the British +Battle-Fleet groped for its elusive foe. One minute of perfect +visibility, one little minute of clear range beyond the fog-masked +sights, was all they asked to deal the death-blow that would end the +fight--men prayed God for it and died with the prayer in their teeth. + +But the minute never came. The firing died away down the line; the +dumb guns moved blindly towards the shifting sounds of strife like +monsters mouthing for the prey that was denied them, but the fog held +and the merciful dusk closed down and covered the flight of the +stricken German Fleet for the shelter of its protecting mine-fields. + +It was not until night fell that the British Destroyers began their +savage work in earnest. Flotilla after flotilla was detached from the +Fleet and swallowed by the short summer night, moving swiftly and +relentlessly to their appointed tasks like black panthers on the trail. + +Cut off from their base by the British Fleet the scattered German +squadrons dodged and doubled through the darkness, striving to elude +the cordon drawn across their path. They can be pictured as towering +black shadows rushing headlong through the night, with the wounded +groaning between their wreckage-strewn decks; and on each bridge, high +above them in the windy darkness, men talked in guttural +mono-syllables, peering through high-power glasses for the menace that +stalked them.... On the trigger of every gun there would be a +twitching finger, and all the while the blackness round them would be +pierced and rent by distant spurts of flame.... + +The wind and sea had risen, and over an area of several hundred square +miles of stormy sea swept the Terror by Night. Bursting star-shell and +questioning searchlight fought with the darkness, betraying to the guns +the sinister black hulls driving through clouds of silver spray, the +loaded tubes and streaming decks, the oilskin-clad figures on each +bridge forcing the attack home against the devastating blast of the +shrapnel. Death was abroad, berserk and blindfold. A fleeing German +Cruiser fell among a flotilla of Destroyers and altered her helm, with +every gun and searchlight blazing, to ram the leading boat. The +Destroyer had time to alter course sufficiently to bring the two ships +bow to bow before the impact came. Then there was a grinding crash: +forecastle, bridge and foremost gun a pile of wreckage and struggling +figures. The blast of the German guns swept the funnels, boats, cowls +and men away as a gale blows dead leaves before it. Then the Cruiser +swung clear and vanished into the darkness, pursued by the remainder of +the Flotilla, and leaving the Destroyer reeling among the waves like a +man that has been struck in the face with a knuckle-duster by a runaway +thief. In the direction where the Cruiser had disappeared five minutes +later a column of flame leaped skyward, and the Flotilla, vengeance +accomplished, swung off through the darkness in search of a fresh +quarry. + +All night long the disabled Destroyer rolled helplessly in the trough +of the sea. The dawn came slowly across the sky, as if apprehensive of +what it might behold on the face of the troubled waters; in the growing +light the survivors of the Destroyer's crew saw a crippled German +Cruiser trailing south at slow speed. Only one gun remained in action +onboard the Destroyer, and round that gathered the bandaged remnant of +what had once been a ship's company. They shook hands grimly among +themselves and spat and girded their loins for their last fight. + +The German Cruiser turned slowly over and sank while they trained the +gun.... + +A dismasted Destroyer, with riddled funnels and a foot of water +swilling across the floor plates in the engine-room, bore down upon +them about noon and took her crippled sister in tow. They passed +slowly away to the westward, leaving the circle of grey, tumbling sea +to the floating wreckage of a hundred fights and the thin keening of +the gulls. + +The afternoon wore on: five drenched, haggard men were laboriously +propelling a life-saving raft by means of paddles in the direction of +the English coast that lay some hundred odd miles to the west. The +waves washed over their numbed bodies, and imparted an almost lifelike +air of animation to the corpse of a companion that lay between them, +staring at the sullen sky. + +Suddenly one of the paddlers stopped and pointed ahead. A boat manned +by four men appeared on the crest of a wave and slid down a grey-back +towards them. The oarsmen were rowing with slow strokes, and +eventually the two craft passed each other within hailing distance. +The men on the raft stared hard. + +"'Uns!" said one. "Bloody 'Uns.... Strictly speakin', we did ought to +fight 'em.... Best look t'other way, lads!" + +His companions followed his example and continued their futile +mechanical paddling with averted heads. + +The bow-oar of the German boat, who had a blood-stained bandage round +his head, also stared. + +"_Engländer!_" he said. "_Verdammte Schweine!_" and added, "_Fünf!_ +..." whereupon he and his companions also averted their heads, because +they were four. + +They passed each other thus. The waves that washed over the raft +rolled the dead man's head to and fro, as if he found the situation +rather preposterous. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE AFTERMATH + +Such was the Battle of the Mist, a triumphant assertion after nearly +two years of vigil and waiting, of British Sea Power. It commenced +with a cloud of smoke on the horizon no larger than a man's hand. Its +consequences and effects spread out in widening ripples through space +and time, changing the vast policies of nations, engulfing thousands of +humble lives and hopes and destinies. Centuries hence the ripples will +still be washing up the flotsam of that fight on the shores of human +life. Long after the last survivor has passed to dust the echo of the +British and German guns will rumble in ears not yet conceived. Princes +will hear it in the chimes of their marriage bells; it will accompany +the scratching of diplomatists' pens and the creaking wheels of the +pioneer's ox-wagon. It will sound above the clatter of Baltic +ship-yards and in the silence of the desert where the caravan routes +stretch white beneath the moon. The Afghan, bending knife in hand over +a whetstone, and the Chinese coolie knee-deep in his wet paddy-fields, +will pause in their work to listen to the sound, uncomprehending, even +while the dust is gathering on the labours of the historian and the +novelist.... + +But this tale does not aspire to deal with the wide issues or +significances of the war. It is an endeavour to trace the threads of +certain lives a little way through a loosely-woven fabric of great +events. At the conclusion there will be ends unfinished; the colours +of some will have changed to grey and others will have vanished into +the warp; but the design is so vast and the loom so near that we, in +our day and generation, can hope to glimpse but a very little of the +whole. + + * * * * * + +The India-rubber Man sat on the edge of the Wardroom table with his cap +tilted on the back of his head, eating bread and cold bacon. The mess +was illuminated by three or four candles stuck in empty saucers and +placed along the table amid the débris of a meal. The dim light shone +on the forms of a dozen or so of officers; some were seated at the +table eating, others wandered restlessly about with food in one hand +and a cup in the other. The tall, thin Lieutenant known as Tweedledum +was pacing thoughtfully to and fro with a pipe in his mouth and his +hands deep in his trousers pockets. + +There had been little conversation. When anyone spoke it was in the +dull, emotionless tones of profound fatigue. One, just out of the +circle of candle-light, had pushed his plate from him on the completion +of his meal, and had fallen asleep with his head resting on his +outstretched arms. The remaining faces lit by the yellow candle-light +were drawn, streaked with dirt and ornamented by a twenty-four hours' +growth of stubble. All wore an air of utter weariness, as of men who +had passed through some soul-shaking experience. + +The door opened to admit the First Lieutenant. He clumped in hastily, +wearing huge leather sea-boots. Beneath his cap his head was swathed +in the neat folds of bandages whose whiteness contrasted with his +smoke-blackened faced and singed, begrimed uniform. + +"Hullo!" he said, "circuits gone here, too?" He peered round the +table. "My word!" he exclaimed. "Hot tea! Who made it? The galley's +a heap of wreckage." He poured himself out a cup and drank thirstily. +"A-A-ah! That's grateful and comforting." + +"I made it," said the Paymaster. "With my own fair hands I boiled the +kettle and made tea for you all. Greater love than this has no man." + +"Reminds me," said a voice out of the shadows, "that Mouldy got rather +badly cut about the head and lost the best part of his left hand. He +went reeling past me during the action yesterday evening with young +Morton slung over his shoulder: he was staring in front of him like a +man walking in his sleep." + +"He was," confirmed the Paymaster. "In the execution of my office as +leading hand of the first-aid party, I gave him chloroform while the +P.M.O. carved bits off him." The speaker rested his head on his hand +and closed his eyes. "Next time we go into action," he continued, as +if speaking to himself, "someone else can take that job on." + +"What job?" asked the India-rubber Man, suddenly turning his head and +speaking with his mouth full. + +"Fore medical distributing station. I've done a meat-course at +Smithfield market ... slaughter-houses before breakfast, don't you +know? I thought I could stick a good deal----" The Paymaster opened +his eyes suddenly. "I tell you, it was what the sailor calls bloody +... just bloody." + +"How is young Morton?" asked the First Lieutenant. + +No one appeared to know, for the enquiry went unanswered. The tall +figure pacing restlessly to and fro stopped and eyed the First +Lieutenant. + +"Tweedledee's killed," he said dully. "Dead..." He resumed his +thoughtful walk and a moment later repeated the last word in a low +voice, reflectively. "Dead ..." + +"I know," said the First Lieutenant. + +Tweedledum halted again. "I wouldn't care if we had absolutely wiped +them off the face of the earth--sunk every one of them, I mean. We +ought to have, with just such a very little luck.... And now they've +slipped through our fingers, in the night." Tweedledum extended a +thin, nervous hand, opening and clenching the fingers. "Like slimy +eels." + +"Some did," said the India-rubber Man musingly, filling a pipe. "Some +didn't. I only saw our guns actually sink one German Battleship; but +the visibility was awful, and we weren't the only pebble on the beach; +our line was miles long, remember." + +"I saw one of their Battle-cruisers on fire and sinking," said Gerrard. +"I was in the top. And all night long our Destroyers were attacking +them. Two big ships blew up during the night." He cut a hunk of bread +and spread it thickly with marmalade. "We must have knocked +seven-bells out of 'em. And we didn't lose a single Battleship." + +"Must have lost a Battle-cruiser or two, though," said the Engineer +Lieutenant, sitting with his head between his hands and his forefingers +propping open his eyelids. "Damn it, they fought the whole German +Fleet single-handed till we arrived! Must have..." His voice trailed +off and his fingers released his eyelids which closed instantly. His +chin dropped on to his chest, and he slept. + +"Any other officer scuppered besides Tweedledee?" asked the Major of +Marines. "What's up with your head, Number One?" + +"Only scratched by a splinter. A nearish thing. I haven't heard of +anybody else. We really got off very lightly considering they found +our range." The First Lieutenant clumped off towards the door. "Now I +must go and see about clearing up the mess. I reckon it's all over bar +the shouting." + +As he went out Thorogood entered the Wardroom. "Would anyone like a +nice beef lozenge?" he enquired, removing a packet from his pocket. +"Owner having no further use for same." + +"Where are we going?" asked the Paymaster. "I should like to go home, +I think, if it could be arranged conveniently, James?" + +"Not to-day," was the reply. "We're looking for the lame ducks on the +scene of yesterday's action. It's very rough and blowing like blue +blazes, so I don't suppose there are many lame ducks left afloat--poor +devils.... With any luck we ought to get in to-morrow morning, though." + +The sleeping figure with the outstretched arms suddenly raised his head +and blinked at Thorogood. "Where's the elusive Hun?" he demanded. + +"'Opped it," was the reply. "Otherwise vamoosed----" + +"Singing 'I'm afraid to go home in the dark,'" interposed the +India-rubber Man dryly. He got down off the table and stretched his +arms. "Well, I shan't be sorry to get some sleep." + +"Sleep!" echoed Thorogood. "You ought to see the stokers' mess-deck. +The watch-off have just come up from below after sixteen hours in the +stokeholds. They're lying sprawling all over the deck like a lot of +black corpses--just all-in." + +Tweedledum sat down on the corner of the table vacated by the +India-rubber Man. + +"I wish I knew exactly how many of them we did sink before the +Commander-in-Chief called off the Destroyers this morning," he said +plaintively. + +"So would a lot of people," replied Thorogood. "We're three hundred +miles from home, and there's every reason to suppose there are one or +two submarines and mines on the way. Those of us who get back will +probably find out all we want to know in time. I shouldn't worry, +Tweedledum. In fact, I don't see why you shouldn't get a bit of sleep +while you can." + +"By Jove!" said Gerrard as a sudden thought struck him. "I wonder if +they know all about it at home yet. Won't our people be bucked!" + +"And the papers," added the Captain of Marines. "Can't you hear the +paper-boys yelling, 'Speshul Edition! Great Naval Victory!' My word, +I'd like to be in town when the news comes out." He considered the +mental picture his imagination had conjured up. "I think I should get +tight...!" he said. + + * * * * * + +The village street had a curiously deserted air when Betty walked up it +on her way to the post office. The mail train had passed through about +an hour before, and as a rule about this time the tenants of the rooms +and cottages on the hill-side made their way to the post office at the +corner to collect their letters and chat in twos and threes round the +windows of the little shops. + +In the distance Betty saw a little group gathered in front of the +boards that displayed the contents bill of the morning paper before the +windows of the village stationer's. Recognising Eileen Cavendish, +Betty quickened her pace, but as she drew near the group dispersed and +Mrs. Cavendish entered the shop. Betty stopped for an instant as the +flaring letters on the poster became visible, stared, took a couple of +paces and stopped again opposite the boards; then she gave a little +gasp, and with a thumping heart entered the low doorway of the little +shop. The next moment she collided with Eileen Cavendish who was +blundering out, holding an open newspaper in front of her. Her face +was white under the shadow of her broad-brimmed hat, and her blue eyes +like those of a terrified child. + +"Have you heard?" she said, and thrust the sheet under Betty's eyes. +"There's been a big action.... Our losses are published, but no +details." + +"Names?" cried Betty. "Oh, let me see!" + +"Only the ships that have gone down. Our husbands' ships aren't +mentioned." + +"Wait while I get a paper," said Betty. "I shan't be a second. What +are you going to do?" + +The other considered a moment. "I shall go and see Mrs. Gascoigne," +she replied. "Will you come too? She may have heard something." + +Betty bought her paper and rejoined Eileen Cavendish in the street. + +"Poor Mrs. Thatcher..." she said. "Did you see? Her husband's +Destroyer----" + +"I know. And there are others, too. There must be five or six wives +up here whose ships have gone---- Oh, it's too dreadful ..." She was +silent a moment while her merciless imagination ran riot. "I couldn't +bear it!" she said piteously. "I couldn't bear it! I didn't whine +when Barbara was taken. I thought I might have another baby.... But I +couldn't have another Bill." + +"Hush," said Betty, as if soothing a child. "We don't know yet. We +mustn't take the worst for granted till we know. I expect we should +have heard by now if--if----" She couldn't finish the sentence. + +They reached the door of Mrs. Gascoigne's lodgings and the landlady +opened the door. Her round, good-natured face wore an air of concern. + +"She's just awa' to Mrs. Thatcher, west yonder. Will ye no' step +inside and bide a wee? She'll no' be long, a'm thinkin'." + +She preceded them into the low-ceilinged parlour, with the +horsehair-covered sofa and the Family Bible on the little table in the +window, that had been a haven to so many faint-hearted ones during the +past two years. + +"Ye'll have heard the news?" she asked. "There's been an action. Mrs. +Thatcher's man's gone down, and Mrs. Gascoigne, she's awa' to bring her +a bit comfort like." She surveyed the visitors sympathetically. "A've +nae doot there's mair than Mrs. Thatcher'll be needin' comfort the +morn, puir lambs." + +"Oh," cried Mrs. Cavendish, "don't--don't! Please don't----" She +regained her self-control with an effort and turned to the window with +her lip between her teeth. + +"Will I bring ye a cup of tea?" queried the landlady. "I have the +kettle boilin'." + +"No thank you," said Betty. "It's very kind of you, but I think we'll +just sit down and wait quietly, if we may, till Mrs. Gascoigne comes +in. I don't expect she'll be long." + +The landlady departed a little reluctantly, and Eileen Cavendish turned +from the window. + +"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm a coward to go to pieces like this. +You're a dear.... And it's every bit as bad for you as it is for me, I +know. But I'm not a coward really. Bill would just hate me to be a +coward. It's only because--because..." She met Betty's eyes, and for +the first time the shadow of a smile hovered about her mouth. + +Betty stepped forward impulsively and kissed her. "Then you're all +right--whatever happens. You won't be quite alone," she said. They +sat down side by side on the horsehair-covered sofa and Eileen +Cavendish half-shyly rested her hand on Betty's as it lay in her lap. + +"I'm a poor creature," said the elder girl. "I wish I had +something--something in me that other women have. You have it, Mrs. +Gascoigne has it, and Etta Clavering. It's a sort of--strength. +Something inside you all that nothing can shake or make waver." Tears +welled up in her eyes and trickled slowly down her cheeks. "It's +Faith," she said, and her voice trembled. "It's just believing that +God can't hurt you..." She fumbled blindly for her tiny handkerchief. + +Betty's eyes were wet too. "Ah!" she said gently. "But you believe +that too--really: deep down inside. Everybody does. It's in +everything--God's mercy...." Her voice was scarcely raised above a +whisper. + +"I know--I know," said the other. "But I've never thought about it. +I'm hard, in some ways. Things seemed to happen much the same whether +I held my thumbs or whether I prayed. And now that I'm terrified--now +that everything in life just seems to tremble on a thread--how _can_ I +start crying out that I believe, I believe...!" Her voice broke at +last, and she turned sideways and buried her face in her hands. + +"But you _do_," said Betty with gentle insistence. + +The door opened and Mrs. Gascoigne entered. There was moisture in her +fine grey eyes. "I'm so glad you two have come to keep me company," +she said. She walked to the mirror over the fireplace and turned her +back on her visitors for a moment while she appeared to adjust her hat. +"I've been helping poor little Mrs. Thatcher to pack. She has had a +telegram, poor child, and she's off South by the afternoon train." + +She turned round, still manipulating hat-pins with raised hands, and in +answer to the unspoken question in her guests' faces, nodded sadly. +"Yes," she said. "But they've got his body. She's going to Newcastle." + +"Have you had any news yourself?" asked Betty. "We have heard nothing." + +"No," replied their hostess. "Nothing, except that the hospital ships +went out last night. I expect the Destroyers got back some time before +the big ships, and we shall hear later in the day. Rob will telegraph +to me directly he gets into harbour, I know." + +She spoke with calm conviction, as if wars and rumours of wars held no +terrors for her. "And now," she said, smiling to them both, "let's be +charwomen and drink tea in the middle of the forenoon!" She moved to +the door and opened it, and as she did so a knock sounded along the +tiny passage from the door that opened into the street. + +Eileen Cavendish was busy in front of the glass, and half turned, +holding a diminutive powder-box in one hand and a scrap of swans-down +in the other. + +"Yes," they heard the voice of Mrs. Gascoigne saying in the passage, +"I'm here--is that for me?" There was the sound of paper tearing and a +little silence. Then they heard her voice again. "Have you any others +in your wallet--is there one for Mrs. Standish or Mrs. Cavendish? +They're both here." + +"I hae ane for Mistress Cavendish," replied a boy's clear treble. "An' +there was ane for Mistress Standish a while syne; it's biding at her +hoose." + +Betty jumped to her feet. "What's that?" she cried. "A telegram?" +Mrs. Gascoigne entered the room holding an orange-coloured envelope and +handed it to Eileen Cavendish. "Yours is at your lodging," she said to +Betty. Her face was very pale. + +With trembling fingers Mrs. Cavendish tore open the envelope. She gave +a quick glance at the contents and sat down abruptly. Then, with her +hands at her side, burst into peals of hysterical laughter. + +"Oh," she cried, "it's all right, it's all right! Bill's safe----" and +her laughter turned to tears. "And I knew it all along..." she sobbed. + +"Oh," said Betty, "I _am_ glad." She slipped her arm round Mrs. +Cavendish's neck and kissed her. "And now I'm just going to rush up to +my rooms to get my message." She paused on her way to the door. "Mrs. +Gascoigne," she said, "did you get any news--is your husband all right?" + +Mrs. Gascoigne was opening the window with her back to the room and its +occupants. "He's very happy," she replied gently. + +Betty ran out into the sunlit street and overtook the red-headed urchin +who was returning to the post office with the demeanour of a man +suddenly thrust into unaccustomed prominence in the world. +Furthermore, he had found the stump of a cigarette in the gutter, and +was smoking it with an air. + +He grinned reassuringly at Betty as she hurried breathlessly past him. +"Dinna fash yersel', Mistress," he called. "Yeer man's bonny an' weel." + +Betty halted irresolutely. "How do you know?" she gasped. + +"A juist keeked inside the bit envelope," came the unblushing reply. + + * * * * * + +The first rays of the rising sun were painting the barren hills with +the purple of grape-bloom, and laying a pathway of molten gold across +the waters when the Battle Squadrons returned to their bases. A few +ships bore traces in blackened paintwork, shell-torn funnels and +splintered upperworks, of the ordeal by battle through which they had +passed; but their numbers, as they filed in past the shag-haunted +cliffs and frowning headlands, were the same as when they swept out in +an earlier gloaming to the making of History. + +Colliers, oilers, ammunition lighters and hospital ships were waiting +in readiness to replenish bunkers and shell-rooms and to evacuate the +wounded. All through the day, weary, grimy men, hollow-eyed from lack +of sleep, laboured with a cheerful elation that not even weariness +could extinguish. Shrill whistles, the creaking of purchases, the +rattle of winches and the clatter of shovels and barrows combined to +fill the air with an indescribable air of bustle and the breath of +victory. Even the blanched wounded exchanged jests between clenched +teeth as they were hoisted over the side in cots. + +Before the sun had set the Battle-Fleet, complete with coal, ammunition +and torpedoes, was ready for action once more. Throughout the night it +rested, licking its wounds in the darkness, with vigilance still +unrelaxed and its might unimpaired. For the time being its task had +been accomplished; but only the enemy, counting the stricken ships that +laboured into the shelter of the German mine-fields, knew how +thoroughly. + +The succeeding dawn came sullenly, with mist and drizzle shrouding the +shores and outer sea. As the day wore on a cold wind sprang up and +rolled the mist restlessly to and fro across the slopes of the hills. + +On a little knoll of ground overlooking a wide expanse of level turf +covered with coarse grass and stunted heather stood a man with his +hands clasped behind his back. In the courage, judgment and sober +self-confidence of that solitary figure had rested the destiny of an +Empire through one of the greatest crises in its history: even as he +stood there, bare-headed, with kindly, tired eyes resting on the misty +outlines of the vast Fleet under his command, responsibility such as no +one man had ever known before lay upon his shoulders. + +Behind him, in the sombre dignity of blue and gold, in a silent group +stood the Admirals and Commodores of the Squadrons and Flotillas with +their Staff Officers; further in the rear, in a large semicircle on +slightly higher ground, were gathered the Captains and officers of the +Fleet. + +Where the turf sloped gradually towards the sea were ranged the seamen +and marines chosen to represent the Fleet: rank upon rank of motionless +men standing with their caps in their hands and their eyes on the +centre of the great hollow square where, hidden beneath the folds of +the Flag they had served so well, lay those of their comrades who had +died of wounds since the battle. A Chaplain in cassock and white +surplice moved across the open space and halted in the centre, office +in hand: + +"I am the Resurrection and the Life..." + +The wind that fluttered the folds of his surplice caught the words and +carried them far out to sea over the heads of the living--the sea where +the others lay who had fought their last fight in that grim battle of +the mist. A curlew circled low down overhead, calling again and again +as if striving to convey some insistent message that none would +understand. From the rocky shore near-by came the low murmur of the +sea, the sound that has in it all the sorrow and gladness in the world. + +At length the inaudible office for the Burial of the Dead came to an +end. The Chaplain closed his book and turned away; a little movement +ran through the gathering of officers and men as they replaced their +caps. A loud, sharp-cut order from the gaitered officer in command of +the firing-party was followed by the clatter of rifle-bolts as the +firing-party loaded and swung to the "Present!" + +"Fire!" The first volley rang out sharply, and the Marine buglers sent +the long, sweet notes of the "Last Post" echoing among the hills. +Twice more the volleys sounded, and twice more the bugles sang their +heart-breaking, triumphant "_Ave atque Vale!_" to the fighting dead. + +In the ensuing silence the cry of the curlew again became audible, this +time out of the peace of the misty hills, gently persistent. Faint and +far-off was the sound, but at the last the meaning came clear and +strong to all who cared to listen. + +"There is no Death!" ran the message, and again and again, "There is no +Death, no Death... no Death...!" + +The firing-party unloaded, and the empty cartridge cases fell to the +earth with a little tinkling sound. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +"GOOD HUNTING" + +Oberleutnant Otto von Sperrgebiet, of the Imperial German Navy, sat on +the edge of a Submarine's conning-tower with a chart open on his knees, +and smoked a cigarette. It was not a brand he cared about +particularly, but it had been looted from the Captain's cabin of a +neutral cargo steamer on the previous afternoon. A man who relies upon +such methods to replenish his cigarette case cannot, of course, expect +everybody's tastes to coincide with his own. + +As he smoked, the German Lieutenant's eyes strayed restlessly round the +circle of the horizon. They were small eyes of a pale blue, rather +close together and reddened round the rims, with light eyelashes. + +The Submarine lay motionless on the surface with the waves breaking +over the hog-backed hull. Every now and again a few drops of spray +splashed over the surface of the chart, and the Naval man wiped them +off with a scrap of lace and cambric that had once been a lady's +handkerchief. He had a way with women, that German Oberleutnant. + +Nothing was in sight: not a tendril of smoke showed above the arc of +tumbling waves that ringed the limit of his vision; the sun was warm +and pleasant, and the figure on the conning-tower crossed his legs, +encased in heavy thigh boots, and gave himself over to retrospective +thought. + +There had been a time when Oberleutnant von Sperrgebiet possessed the +rudiments of a conscience. It could never have been described as +acutely sensitive, and it never developed much beyond the rudimentary +stage. Nevertheless, it had existed once: and in the early days of the +war it was still sufficiently active to record certain protests and +objections in his mind. + +The mysterious forces that were at work in Germany, industriously +remoulding, brutalising and distorting the mind of Oberleutnant von +Sperrgebiet, together with millions of others, had not been blind to +the prejudicial effects of conscience to an evil cause. Imperial +rodomontade and the inflammatory German Admiralty War Orders had +deliberately rejected, one by one, the deep-seated principles of +humanity and chivalry in war. It had been done gradually and +systematically--scientifically, in fact, and in the majority of cases +it succeeded in producing a state of atrophy of the moral sense that +was altogether admirable--from a German point of view. + +In the case of Oberleutnant von Sperrgebiet, however, these early +qualms had a trick of recurring. They pricked his consciousness at +unexpected moments, like a grass-seed in a walker's stocking.... And +now, as he sat swinging his legs in the warm June sunlight, a whole +procession of such reflections trooped through his mind. + +For instance, there arose in his intelligence an obstinate doubt as to +whether the torpedoing without warning of a liner carrying women and +children at the commencement of the war had been quite within the pale +of legitimate Naval warfare. He had met the man who boasted such an +achievement, and for a long time he carried with him the recollection +of that man's eyes as they met his above a beer mug. They had drunk +uproariously together, and von Sperrgebiet heard all about it first +hand, and even fingered enviously the Iron Cross upon the breast of the +teller of the tale. But somehow those eyes had told quite a different +story: and it was that which von Sperrgebiet remembered long after the +wearer of the Iron Cross had gone out into the North Sea mists and +returned no more. + +Then there had been the rather unpleasant business of the boat.... + +It was in mid-winter a long way North during one of the few calm days +to be expected at that period of the year. The Submarine was running +on the surface when the Second-in-Command (of whom more anon) reported +a boat on the starboard bow. They altered course a little and, slowing +down, passed within a few yards of it. It was a ship's life-boat, half +full of water; lying in the water, rolling slowly from side to side as +the boat rocked in their wash, were five dead men. A sixth sat huddled +at the tiller, staring over the quarter with unseeing eyes, frozen +stiff.... + +Von Sperrgebiet caught a glimpse of the ship's name on the bows of the +boat: it happened to be that of a neutral ship he had torpedoed at the +beginning of the previous week during a gale. + +The German Admiralty Orders of that period contained a clause to the +effect that ships were not to be torpedoed without ensuring the +adequate safety of the crew. Which meant that those who had not been +killed by the explosion of the torpedo could be allowed to launch a +boat (weather permitting) and get into it if they had time before the +ship sank.... + +Von Sperrgebiet had given orders for the boat to be sunk by gunfire, +but somehow the memory of that stark figure at the helm persisted. Try +as he would, he failed to banish from his mind the staring, sightless +eyes and grey, famished face.... + +Altogether it was an unpleasant business. Other memories of this +nature came and went with the smoke from his cigarette. For some +reason or other he found himself wondering whether, after all, a +Belgian Relief Steamer could have been considered fair game. But he +did so hate the word "Belgium," and there was always the theory of a +mine to account for the incident.... He torpedoed her by moonlight: a +very creditable shot, all things considered. + +Another moonlight picture presented itself. A boat-load of terrorised +Finns rising and falling on the swell alongside the Submarine, and, +half a mile away, an abandoned sailing ship with every rope and spar +standing out black against the moonlight. In the stern of the boat +stood a mighty Norwegian with a red beard and a voice like a bull. One +of his arms rested protectingly round a woman's shoulders, and he shook +a knotted fist in von Sperrgebiet's face as his ship blew up and sank. + +The woman seen thus in the pale moonlight was young and pretty, and the +red-bearded man bellowed that she was his wife. The announcement was +not an unfamiliar one to Oberleutnant von Sperrgebiet: they usually +were young and pretty when he heard that hot rage in a man's voice. +Oberleutnant von Sperrgebiet made himself scarce forthwith, it might be +almost said, from force of habit.... + +The glass was falling, and it was in mid-Atlantic that they left that +boat. It blew a gale next day, and the Oberleutnant, who had an eye +for a pretty woman, sometimes wondered if the boat was picked up. + +His mind revolved for a moment round certain incidents in connection +with that affair. A German sailor from the Submarine had been sent +onboard to place the bombs; he returned with cigars, a ham, and a +pretty silver clock. Also a box of sugar plums, half finished. + +Von Sperrgebiet took the clock and the sugar plums. The cigars and the +ham (the labourer being worthy of his hire) he allowed the sailor to +keep. + +But even Submarine warfare against unarmed shipping has its risks. +There was the ever-memorable incident of the British tug, and even now +von Sperrgebiet winced at the recollection. They had sighted a sailing +ship in tow of a tug at the entrance to the Channel; von Sperrgebiet +was proud of his mastery of the English tongue, and it was this small +vanity that led him to adopt tactics which differed somewhat from his +normal caution. He submerged until within a couple of hundred yards of +the approaching tow and then rose to the surface, dripping, like some +uncouth sea-monster. Armed with a revolver and a megaphone, and with +pleasurable anticipation in his heart, the Oberleutnant emerged from +the conning-tower with a view to a little preliminary banter with these +detested and unarmed English before administering a coup de grace. He +was just in time to see a stout, ungainly man tumbling aft along the +deck from the wheel-house of the tug. Raising a booted leg with +surprising agility, the stout man kicked off the shackle of the tow +rope, and as he did so over went the helm; the blunt-nosed tug, +released from her 3,000-ton burden, came straight for him like an angry +buffalo. + +They were not forty yards apart when the tug turned, and quick as the +German coxswain was, the Submarine failed to avoid the stunning impact +of the bows. A revolver bullet crashed through the glass window of the +wheel-house; von Sperrgebiet had an instant's vision of a round face, +purple with rage, above the spokes of the wheel, and then the conning +tower's automatic hatchway closed. The Submarine was in diving trim, +and she submerged in the shortest time on record. They remained on the +bottom four hours while the sweating mechanics repaired the damaged +hydroplane gear and effected some temporary caulking round certain +plates that bulged ominously. + +But von Sperrgebiet's hatred of England was real enough before this +incident. He had always hated the English, even in his youth when for +a year he occupied an inconspicuous niche in one of the less fastidious +Public Schools. He hated them for the qualities he despised and found +so utterly inexplicable. He despised their lazy contempt for detail, +their quixotic sense of fairness and justice in a losing game, their +persistent refusal to be impressed by the seriousness of anything on +earth. He despised their whole-hearted passion for sports at an age +when he was beginning to be interested in less wholesome and far more +complex absorptions.... He despised their straight, clean affections +and quarrels and their tortuous sense of humour; the affectation that +led them to take cold baths instead of hot ones: their shy, rather +knightly mental attitude towards their sisters and one another's +sisters.... + +All these things von Sperrgebiet despised in the English. But he also +hated them for something he had never even admitted to himself. +Crudely put, it was because he knew that he could never beat an +Englishman. There was nothing in his spirit that could outlast the +terrible, emotionless determination in the English character to win. + +Von Sperrgebiet's reflections came to an end with his cigarette. He +tossed the stump overboard, and raising a pair of glasses he focused +them intently on the horizon to the eastward. + +For the space of nearly a minute he sat thus staring. From the +interior of the Submarine came the strains of a gramophone playing a +German patriotic air, and with it the smell of coffee. The crew were +at dinner, and a man's deep laugh floated up the shaft of the +conning-tower as if coming from the bowels of the sea. + +The Oberleutnant lowered the glasses abruptly. Rolling up the chart he +hoisted himself on to his feet and bent over the tiny binnacle to take +the bearing of a faint smudge of smoke barely visible on the horizon. +This obtained, he lowered himself through the narrow hatchway and +climbed down the steel rungs into the interior of the compartment. + +"Close down!" he said curtly. The gramophone stopped with a click, and +instantly all was bustle and activity within the narrow confines of the +steel shell. + +The Second-in-Command, who was lying on his bunk reading a novel, sat +up and lifted his legs over the edge. He was a spectacled youth with a +cropped bullet-head and what had been in infancy a hare-lip. His beard +of about ten days' maturity grew in patches about his lips and cheeks. + +"A ship, Herr Kapitan?" he asked in a thin, reedy voice, and reached +for a pair of long-toed, elastic-sided boots that he had kicked off, +and which lay at the foot of his bunk. + +His superior officer nodded and snapped out a string of guttural +orders. The sing-song voices of men at their stations amid the levers +and dials repeated the words mechanically, like men talking in their +sleep. With a whizzing, purring sound the motors started, and the +ballast tanks filled with a succession of sucking gurgles. + +Von Sperrgebiet glanced at the compass and moved to the eye-piece of +the periscope. For a while there was silence, broken only by the hum +of the motors. + +The Second-in-Command hung about the elbow of the motionless figure at +the periscope like a morbid-minded urchin on the outskirts of a crowd +that gathers round a street accident, but can see nothing. His stolid +face was working and moist with excitement. + +"Is it an English ship, Herr Kapitan?" + +The Oberleutnant made no answer, but reached out a hand to the wheel +that adjusted the height of the periscope above the water and twisted +it rapidly. For twenty minutes he remained thus, motionless save for +the arm that controlled the periscope. Once or twice he gave a +low-voiced direction to the helmsman, but his Second-in-Command he +ignored completely. + +That officer moved restlessly about the Submarine, glancing from dial +to dial and from one gauge to another; for a few minutes he stopped to +talk to the torpedo-man standing by the closed tube. Finally he +returned to his Captain's elbow, moistening his marred lip with the tip +of his tongue; his face wore an unhealthy pallor and glistened in the +glow of the electric lights. + +"Is it an English ship, Herr Kapitan?" he asked again in his high, +unnatural voice. + +"Yes," snapped von Sperrgebiet. "Why?" + +"I have a request to make," replied the Second-in-Command. "A favour, +Herr Kapitan. It concerns a promise"--he lowered his voice till it was +barely audible above the noise of the machinery--"to my betrothed." + +For the first time von Sperrgebiet turned his face from the rubber +eye-piece and regarded the youth with a little mocking smile that +showed only a sharp dog-tooth. + +"Don't say you promised to introduce her to me, Ludwig!" he sneered. + +"No, no," said the other hastily. "But she made me promise not to +return to her unless I had sunk with my own hands a merchant ship +flying the cursed English flag." + +"She is easily pleased, your betrothed," retorted the Oberleutnant, and +moved back from the periscope. "Your request is granted. But remember +I shall demand an introduction when we return.... It is a long shot. +Fire when the foremast comes on, and do not show the periscope more +than a few seconds at a time. I will give the orders after you have +fired." + +The Second-in-Command took up his position in the spot vacated by the +Oberleutnant. His tongue worked ceaselessly about his lips and his +hand trembled on the elevating wheel. + +"There is smoke astern," he said presently. And a moment later. "The +approaching ship looks like a liner, Herr Kapitan!" + +"What of that?" said von Sperrgebiet gruffly. + +The Second-in-Command looked back over his shoulder at his Commanding +Officer: his face was livid with excitement. "It means women, Herr +Kapitan," he said. "Children perhaps...." + +Von Sperrgebiet shrugged his shoulders. "They are English," he +replied. "Swine, sow or sucking-pig--what is the difference? They +learn their lessons slowly, these English. We will drive yet another +nail into their wooden heads.... You will drive it, Ludwig," he added +thoughtfully: and then, as an afterthought, "for the honour of the +Fatherland." + +"Thank you, Herr Kapitan," replied the youth, and turned again to the +periscope mirror. Silence fell upon the waiting men: the minutes +passed while the elevating wheel of the periscope revolved first in one +direction and then in another. At last the form of the +Second-in-Command stiffened. + +"Fire!" he cried: his uncertain voice cracked into a falsetto note. + +The stern of the Submarine dipped and righted itself again: the +Oberleutnant's harsh voice rang out in a succession of orders. The +Second-in-Command leaned against a stanchion and wiped his face with +his handkerchief. + +A minute passed, and a dull concussion shook the boat from stem to +stern. Von Sperrgebiet showed his dog-tooth in that terrible mirthless +smile of his. "A hit, my little Ludwig!" he said. + +The Second-in-Command clicked his heels together. "For the honour of +the Fatherland," he said. "Gott strafe England!" + +"Amen!" said Oberleutnant Otto von Sperrgebiet. + +The boat had been travelling in a wide circle after the torpedo left +the tube, and ten minutes later the Oberleutnant cautiously raised the +periscope. The next moment he swung the wheel round again in the +opposite direction. + +"Another ship?" asked Ludwig. + +"Yes," replied von Sperrgebiet. "One of their cursed Armed Merchant +Cruisers." He bent over the chart table for a minute and gave an order +to the helmsman. + +"A fresh attack?" queried the Second-in-Command eagerly. + +Von Sperrgebiet returned to the periscope. "When you have been at this +work as long as I have," he replied, "you will find it healthier not to +meddle with Armed Merchant Cruisers. They are all eyes and they shoot +straight. No, for the time being our glorious work is done, and we +shall now depart from a locality that is quickly becoming unhealthy." +He glanced at the depth gauge and thence to the faces of the crew who +stood waiting for orders. + +"The gramophone," he called out harshly. "Switch on the gramophone, +you glum-faced swine.... Look sharp! Something lively...!" + + * * * * * + +At seven minutes past three in the afternoon, Cecily Thorogood, that +very self-possessed and prettily-clad young woman, was seated in a +deck-chair on the saloon-deck of a 6,000-ton liner; an American +magazine was open in front of her, under cover of which she was +exploring the contents of a box of chocolates with the practised eye of +the expert, in quest of a particular species which contained +crystallised ginger and found favour in her sight. + +At nineteen minutes past three Cecily Thorogood, still self-possessed, +but no longer very prettily clad, was submerged in the chilly Atlantic +up to her shoulders and clinging to the life-line of an upturned +jolly-boat. To the very young Fourth Officer who clung to the boat +beside her with one arm and manoeuvred for a position from which he +could encircle Cecily's waist protectingly with the other, she +announced as well as her chattering teeth would allow that she + +(a) was in no immediate danger of drowning; + +(b) was not in the least frightened; + +(c) was perfectly capable of holding on without anybody's support as +long as was necessary. + +The chain of occurrences that connected situation No. 1 with situation +No. 2 was short enough in point of actual time, but so crowded with +unexpected and momentous happenings that it had already assumed the +proportions of a confused epoch in Cecily's mind. There were gaps in +the sequence of events that remained blanks in her memory. Faces, +insignificant incidents, thumbnail sketches and broad, bustling +panorama of activity alternated with the blank spaces. The heroic and +the preposterous were indistinguishable.... + +At the first sound of the explosion of the torpedo Cecily jumped to her +feet, scattering the chocolates broadcast over the deck. The ship +seemed to lift bodily out of the water and then heeled over a little to +port. There were very few people on the saloon deck and there was no +excitement or rushing about. The shrill call of the boatswain's mate's +pipe clove the silence that followed that stupendous upheaval of sound. + +A clean-shaven, middle-aged American, wearing a collar reminiscent of +the late Mr. Gladstone's and a pair of pince-nez hanging from his neck +on a broad black ribbon, had been walking up and down with his hands +behind his back; he paused uncertainly for a moment and then began +laboriously collecting the scattered chocolates. That was the only +moment when hysteria brushed Cecily with its wings. She wanted to +laugh or cry--she wasn't sure which. + +"It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter!" she cried with a catch in her +breath. "Don't stop now--we've been torpedoed!" + +The American stared at the handful he had gathered. + +"Folks'll tread on 'em, I guess," he replied, and suddenly raised his +head with a whimsical smile. "A man likes to do something useful at +times like this--it's just our instinct," he added as if explaining +something more for his own satisfaction than hers. "I'm not a +seaman--I'd only get in peoples' way messing round the boats before +they were ready--so I reckoned I'd pick up your candies." + +There were very few women onboard, and Cecily found herself the only +woman allotted to the jolly-boat. She climbed in with the assistance +of the very young and distressingly susceptible Fourth Officer. For a +moment she found herself reflecting that his life must be one long +martyrdom of unrequited affections. The stout American followed her +with a number of other passengers. The Fourth Officer gave an order +and the boat began to descend towards the waves in a succession of +uneven jolts. The crew were getting their oars ready, and one was +hammering the plug of the boat home with the butt of an enormous +jack-knife. The stout American surveyed the tumbling sea beneath them +distastefully. + +"When I get to Washington," he said, "I guess I'll fly round that li'll +old town till some of our precious 'too-proud-to-fight' party just +gnash their teeth and shriek aloud 'How can we bear it?'" + +He suddenly remembered that his pneumatic life-saving waistcoat was not +inflated. Seizing the piece of rubber tubing that projected from his +pocket he thrust it into his mouth and proceeded to blow with distended +cheeks and his serious brown eyes fixed solemnly on Cecily's face. + +He was still blowing when they capsized. How the accident happened +Cecily never knew: principally because she was concentrating her mind +on the bottom of the boat and wondering how soon the pangs of +_mal-de-mer_ might be expected to encompass her. But the fact remains +that one moment the boat was rising and falling dizzily on the waves +and the next, with a confused shouting of orders and a crash, they were +all struggling in the water. + +Cecily's life-saving jacket brought her to the surface like a cork, and +a couple of strokes took her to the side of the capsized boat and +situation No. 2 already described. Here she was presently joined by +the American, puffing and blowing like a grampus, who was placed in +possession of statement (c) referred to above. He appeared either not +to hear, however, or to incline to the view that it was a mere theory +based upon a fallacy.... + +The remaining late occupants of the boat attached themselves along the +sides and awaited succour with what patience they could. Then a +muffled sound like an internal explosion came from within the stricken +hull as a bulkhead went. The great ship lurched sickeningly above them +as a wall totters to its fall. Cecily looked up and saw for a moment +the figure of the Captain standing on the end of the bridge; true to +his grand traditions he was staying by his ship to the last. She +listed over further and began to settle rapidly. Then, and only then, +the Captain climbed slowly over the rail and dived. + +The stern of the ship rose slowly into the air, then swiftly slid +forward with a sound like a great sob and vanished beneath the surface. +One of the life-boats approached the capsized jolly-boat, and the +figures that clung to her were hauled, dripping, one by one into the +stern. + +Then they picked up the Captain, clinging to a grating, an angry man. +He scowled round at the long green slopes of the sea and shook his fist. + +"The curs!" he said. "The dirty scum.... Women on board.... No +warning...." Anger and salt water choked him. + +"They wouldn't even give me a gun because I was a passenger ship. +Unarmed, carrying women, torpedoed without warning.... I'll spit in +the face of every German I meet from here to Kingdom Come!" + +A little elderly lady with a bonnet perched awry on her thin grey hair +suddenly began a hymn in a high quavering soprano. + +"That's right, ma'am," said the Captain approvingly, as he wrung the +water out of his clothes. "There's nothing like singing to cure +sea-sickness. And we shan't be here very long." He pointed to the +high bows of a rapidly approaching ship. "One of our Armed Merchant +Cruisers, I fancy." He waved to the other boats to close nearer. + +He was no mere optimist; before a quarter of an hour had elapsed the +boats were strung out in a line towing from a rope that led from the +bows of the Cruiser. A hastily improvised boatswain's stool was +lowered from a davit, and one by one the passengers, then the crew, and +finally the officers of the torpedoed liner were swung into the air and +hoisted inboard while the Armed Merchant Cruiser continued her course. + +The sea-sick Cecily, swaying dizzily for the second time that day +between sky and water, looked down at the tumbling boats beneath her +and for a moment had a glimpse of the stout American and the Fourth +Officer. They were both standing gazing up after her as she was +whisked skyward. Their mouths were open, and the expression on their +faces gave Cecily a feeling of being wafted out of a world she was +altogether too good for. + +The sensation was a momentary one, however. The davit swung inboard as +she arrived at the level of the rail and deposited her, a limp bundle +of damp rags--in fact what Mr. Mantalini would have described as "a +demmed moist unpleasant body"--on the upper deck of the Armed Merchant +Cruiser. With the assistance of two attentive sailors Cecily rose +giddily to her feet; most of her hair-pins had come out, and her hair +streamed in wet ringlets over her shoulders. She raised her eyes to +take in her new surroundings, and there, standing before her with his +eyes and mouth three round O's, was Armitage. + +Now Cecily had gone through a good deal since seven minutes past three +that afternoon. But to be confronted, as she swayed, with her wet +clothes clinging to her body like a sculptor's model, deathly sea-sick, +red-nosed for aught she knew or cared, with the man who but for her +firmness and mental agility would have kept on proposing to her at +intervals during the past eighteen months, was a climax that +overwhelmed even Cecily's self-possession. + +She chose the only course left open to her, and fainted promptly. +Armitage caught her in his arms, and as he did so was probably the +first and last Englishman who has ever blessed a German Submarine. + +She recovered consciousness in Armitage's cabin, with the elderly lady +who had sung hymns in the boat in attendance; she lay wrapped in +blankets in the bunk, with hot-water bottles in great profusion all +round her, and felt deliciously drowsy and comfortable. But with +returning consciousness some corner of discomfort obtruded itself into +her mind. It grew more definite and uncomfortable. With her eyes +still closed Cecily wriggled faintly and plucked at an unfamiliar +garment. + +Then, slowly, she opened her eyes very wide. "What have I got on?" she +asked in severe tones. + +"My dear," said the elderly lady, "pyjamas! There was nothing else. +They belong to the officer who owns this cabin. I think the name was +Armitage. And the doctor said----" + +Cecily groaned. A knock sounded, and the ship's doctor entered +carrying something in a medicine glass. + +"Well," he asked brusquely, "how are we?" + +"Better, thanks," said Cecily faintly. + +"That's right. Drink this and close your eyes again." + +Cecily drank obediently and fell asleep. Twenty-four hours later the +Cruiser was moving slowly up a river to her berth alongside a wharf. +Cecily, clothed and in her right mind, stood aft in a deserted spot by +the ensign-staff and stared at the dingy warehouses and quaysides +ashore as they slid past. + +Armitage came across the deck towards her; Cecily saw him coming and +took a long breath. Then, woman-like, she spoke first: + +"I haven't had an opportunity to thank you yet," she said prettily, +"for giving up your cabin to me--and--and all your kindness." + +Armitage stood squarely in front of her, a big, kindly man who was +going to be badly hurt and more than half expected it. + +"There is a curious fatality about all this," he said. "It was no +kindness of either yours or mine." He glanced over her head at the +rapidly approaching wharf ahead and then at her face. + +"For eighteen months," he said, speaking rather quickly, "I've been +like the prophet Jonah--looking for a sign. I looked to you for it, +Miss Cecily," he said, "and I can't truthfully say it showed itself in +a single word or look or gesture." He took a deep breath. "I'm not +going to let you tell me I'm labouring under any misapprehensions. But +this"--he made a little comprehensive gesture--"this is too much like +the hand of Fate to disregard. Miss Cecily," he said, "little Miss +Cecily, you've just twisted your fingers round my heart and I can't +loose them." + +"Please," said Cecily, "ah, no, please don't...." Some irresponsible +imp in her intelligence made her want to tell him that it wasn't Jonah +who looked for a sign. + +"Listen," said Armitage. He was literally holding her before him by +the sheer strength of his kindly, compelling personality. "When this +racket started--this war--I told them at the Admiralty my age was +forty-five. It was a lie--I am fifty-two. I've knocked about the +world; I know men and cities and the places where there are neither. +But I've lived clean all my life and I was never gladder of it than I +am at this moment...." + +Cecily had a conviction that unless she could stop him she would have +to start crying very soon. But there were no words somehow that seemed +adequate to the situation. + +"I know, dear," he went on in his grave quiet voice, "that at your age +money, and all the things it buys, seem just empty folly. But, believe +me, there comes a time when being rich counts a lot towards happiness. +I'm not trying to dazzle you, but you know all mine is yours--you shall +live in Park Lane if you care to--or I'll turn all wide Scotland into a +deer forest for you to play in...." + +He paused. "But there is one thing, of course, that might make all +this sound vulgar and sordid." He considered her with his clear blue +eyes. "Are you in love with anyone else?" he asked. + +Cecily clutched recklessly at the alternative to absurd tears. + +"Yes," she said. + +Armitage stood quite still for a moment. His calm, direct gaze never +left her face, and after a moment he squared his big shoulders with an +abrupt, characteristic movement. + +"Then he is the luckiest man," he said quietly, "that ever won God's +most perfect gift." + +He gave her a funny stiff little inclination of the head and walked +away. + + * * * * * + +Otto von Sperrgebiet did not raise the periscope above the surface +again for some hours. The Submarine, entirely submerged, drove through +the water until night. After nightfall they travelled on the surface +until the first pale bars of dawn appeared in the eastern sky. Von +Sperrgebiet was on the conning-tower as soon as it was light, searching +the horizon with his glasses. + +"It is strange," he said to his Second-in-Command. "We ought to have +sighted that light vessel before now." At his bidding a sailor fetched +the lead line and took a sounding. Together they examined the tallow +at the bottom of the lead, and von Sperrgebiet made a prolonged +scrutiny of the chart. "H'm'm!" he said. "I don't understand." +Submerging again, they progressed at slow speed for some hours and he +took another sounding. The sky was overcast and no sights could be +taken. + +This time von Sperrgebiet returned from comparing the sounding with the +chart, wearing a distinctly worried expression. + +The hawk-eyed seaman beside him on the bridge gave an ejaculation and +pointed ahead. + +"Land, Herr Kapitan!" he said. + +"Fool!" replied his Captain. "Idiot! How can there be land there +unless"--he glanced inside the binnacle half contemptuously--"unless +the compasses are mad--or I am." + +He raised his glasses to stare at the horizon. "You are right," he +said. "You are right.... It is land." He gnawed his thumbnail as was +his habit when in perplexity. + +The next moment the seaman pointed again. "The Hunters," he said. + +Von Sperrgebiet gave one glance ahead and kicked the man down through +the open hatchway of the conning-tower. He himself followed, and the +hatch closed. The helmsman was standing, staring at the compass like a +man in a trance. + +"Herr Kapitan," he said, as von Sperrgebiet approached, "it is +bewitched." Indeed, he had grounds for consternation. The compass +card was spinning round like a kitten chasing its tail, first in one +direction, then in another. + +"Damn the compass!" said von Sperrgebiet. "Flood ballast tanks--depth +thirty metres--full speed ahead!" + +He thrust the helmsman aside and took the useless wheel himself. + +"Ludwig," he said, "to the periscope with you and tell me what you see." + +The Second-in-Command waited for no second bidding; he pressed his face +against the eye-pieces. "There are small vessels approaching very +swiftly from all sides," he said. And a moment later, "They are firing +at the periscope..." + +"Down with it," said von Sperrgebiet. "We must go blind if we are to +get through." His face was white and his lip curled back in a +perpetual snarl like a wolf at bay. As he spoke there was a splutter +and the lights went out. + +The voice of the Engineer sounded through the low doorway from the +engine-room. "There is something fouling our propeller, Herr Kapitan," +he shouted. "The engines are labouring at full speed, but we are +scarcely making any headway. The cut-outs have fused." + +Von Sperrgebiet cursed under his breath. "Stop the engines," he said. +"If we can't swim we must sink." He gave the necessary orders and the +boat dropped gradually through the water till she rested on the bottom. + +"Now," said von Sperrgebiet. "Turn on the gramophone, one of you, if +you can find it." + +There was a pause while someone fumbled in the darkness, and a click. +Then a metallic tune blared forth bravely from the unseen instrument. + +"That's right," said von Sperrgebiet in a low voice, speaking for the +last time. "'_Deutschland unter Alles!_'" His laugh was like the bark +of a sick dog. + + +Twenty fathoms over their heads, under the grey sky, and blown upon by +the strong salt wind, a large man in the uniform of a Lieutenant of the +Naval Reserve was standing in the bows of an Armed Trawler; his gaze +was fixed on something floating upon the surface of the water ahead; +but presently he raised his eyes to the circle of Armed Trawlers around +him riding lazily on the swell. In the rear of the gun in the bows of +each craft stood a little group of men all staring intently at the +floating object. The Lieutenant waved an arm to the nearest consort. + +"They reckon they'll take it lying down," he said grimly. "Well, I +don't blame 'em!" He nodded at the figure in the wheel-house. + +"Full speed, skipper!" The telegraph clinked, and they moved ahead, +slowly gathering way. Then the Reserve-man turned, facing aft. + +"Let her go, George," he said, raising his voice. The trawler fussed +ahead like a self-important hen that has laid an egg. There was a +violent upheaval in the water astern, and a column of foam and wreckage +leaped into the air with a deafening roar. + +The Reserve Lieutenant pulled a knife out of his pocket, and, bending +down, thoughtfully added another nick to a long row of notches in the +wooden beam of the trawler's fore hatch. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +SPELL-O! + +Lettigne sat on the edge of his sea-chest contemplating a large +fragment of a German shell which he held on his knees. + +"Will someone tell me where I am going to pack this interesting relic +of my blood-stained past?" he enquired of the flat at large. + +The after cabin-flat had all the appearances of the interior of a +homestead in imminent danger of occupation by an enemy. In front of +each open chest stood a Midshipman feverishly cramming boots and +garments into already bulging portmanteaux and kit-bags. The deck was +littered with rejected collars, pyjamas and underwear; golf-clubs, +cricket-bats and fishing-rods lay about in chaotic confusion. + +"Will someone tell me where I'm going to pack anything?" replied +Malison, delving into the inmost recesses of his chest. "Fancy being +told to pack and get away on leave and given an hour to do it in! It +isn't decent. It always takes me a week to find my gear." + +"Well, you'd better buck up," interposed the Senior Midshipman. "The +boat leaves in ten minutes." + +"Help!" ejaculated Lettigne. "I don't care," he added. "I'm not going +without my blinking trophy." He removed a pair of boots from the +interior of an apoplectic-looking kit-bag and substituted the jagged +piece of metal. "It weighs about half a ton, but it very nearly bagged +Little Willie, and I want my people to see it." He tugged and strained +at the straps. "Make 'em appreciate their little hopeful.... Ouf! +There! I only hope this yarn about there being no porters anywhere +isn't true." + +Harcourt, who had reduced the contents of his suit-case in volume by +the simple expedient of stamping on them, had finally succeeded in +closing the lid. + +"Never mind," he shouted. "What does anything matter so long's we're +'appy!" He brandished a cricket-bat and sang in his high, cracked +tenor: + + "Keep the home fires burning, + Oh, keep the home fires burning, + Keep the home fires burning...." + +"I dunno how it goes on," he concluded, lapsing into speech again. + +"_'Cos we're all going on leave!_" roared Matthews. "That's how it +ends. That's how everything ends. Ain't it all right?" He closed his +chest with a bang and sat on the top with his hands in his pockets, +drumming his heels against the sides. "Snooks!" he ejaculated, "I +haven't felt like this since I was a mere lad." + +"What are you going to do on leave?" queried the tall sandy-haired +Midshipman popularly known as "Wonk." + +"Do?" echoed Matthews. "Do?" He allowed his imagination full rein for +a moment. "Well," he said, "by way of a start I shall make my soldier +brother take me to dinner somewhere where there's a band and fairies in +low-necked dresses with diamond ta-rarras on their heads." + +"That sounds pretty dull," objected Mordaunt, affectionately burnishing +the head of a cleek with a bit of emery paper. "Is that all you're +going to do?" + +"Not 't all. After dinner I shall smoke a cigar--a mild one, you +know--and then we'll go to a 'Revoo' with more fairies. Lots of 'em," +he added ruminatingly, "skipping about like young stag-beetles--you +know the kind of thing----" The visionary got down off his chest, and, +plucking the sides of his monkey-jacket between finger and thumb, +pirouetted gracefully amid the scattered suit-cases and litter of +clothes. "Comme ça!" he concluded. + +"What then?" demanded Lettigne, growing interested. + +"Then," continued Matthews, "then we'll go and have supper +somewhere--oysters and things like that. Mushrooms, p'raps...." + +"With an actress, Matt?" asked a small Midshipman, known as "the White +Rabbit," in half-awed, half-incredulous tones of admiration. + +"P'raps," admitted the prospective man-about-town. "My brother knows +tons of 'em." + +Harcourt burst into shouts of delight. "Can't you see Matt?" he cried +hilariously. "Having supper with a massive actress!" He slapped his +thighs delightedly. "Matt swilling ginger ale and saying, 'You're 's' +dev'lish fine womansh.' ... No, don't start scrapping, Matt; I've just +put on a clean collar ... and it's got to last.... All right--_pax_, +then." + +"Well," said Matthews, when peace was restored. "What's everyone else +going to do? What are you going to do, Harcourt?" + +"Me and Mordy are going to attrapay the wily trout," was the reply. +"He's going to spend part of the leave with me, and I'm going to spend +part with him. We're going to clean out the pond at his place. +Topping rag." + +"And you, Wonk?" + +"Cricket," was the reply. "And strawberries. Chiefly strawberries." + +"What about you, Bosh?" + +"I shall lie in a hammock, and tell lies about the Navy to my sisters a +good deal of the time. And when I'm tired of that I shall just lie--in +the hammock. Sorry, I didn't mean to be funny----Ow! I swear it was +unintentional. Matt, I swear----" + +The furious jarring of an electric gong somewhere overhead drowned all +other sounds. + +"Boat's called away!" shouted the Senior Midshipman. "Up on deck, +everyone. Knock off scrapping, Bosh and Matt, or you'll be all adrift." + +There was a general scramble for bags and suit-cases, and, burdened +with their impedimenta, the Midshipmen made their way up on to the +quarterdeck. + +Thorogood, Officer of the Watch, was walking up and down with an +expression of bored resignation to the inevitable. Forward of the +after superstructure the liberty-men were falling-in in all the glory +of white cap-covers and brand-new suits, carrying little bundles in +their hands. There was on each man's countenance that curious blend of +solemnity and ecstatic anticipation only to be read in the face of a +bluejacket or marine about to start on long leave. + +A group of officers gathering near the after gangway stood waiting for +the boat and exchanging chaff customary to such an occasion. + +"Here come the Snotties," said the Staff Surgeon. "Lord, I wish I had +a gramophone to record their conversation outside my cabin while they +were packing." He raised his voice. "Now, then, James, what about +this boat? We shall miss the train if you keep us all hanging about +here much longer. Some of us have got appointments in town we don't +want to miss--haven't we, Matthews?" + +The Midshipman thus suddenly addressed flushed and was instantly the +target for his companions' humour. "That's right, sir," confirmed +Lettigne maliciously. "Matthews is taking a real live actress out to +supper to-morrow night." + +"Smoking a mild cigar," added another. "And eating oysters and +mushrooms," chimed in a third. + +Thorogood walked towards the group of laughing, chaffing boys and men. + +"She won't be long, now," he said. "You'll all catch the train; I can +promise you that." + +He smiled wanly. + +"James," said the India-rubber Man, "don't look so miserable! I know +how sorry you are for us all. But we're going through with it, old +man, like Britons." + +"That's right," agreed the Paymaster. "We shall think of you, James, +and the Commander, and the P.M.O., and all our happy messmates who are +staying onboard for the refit. It makes going on leave easier to bear +when we think of your smiling faces." + +Thorogood turned away. "You're funny little fellows, aren't you?" he +said dourly. + +The Young Doctor caught the ball and sent it rolling on. + +"We shall think of the pneumatic riveter at work over your heads; we +shall think of the blithe chatter of the dockyard maties all over the +ship, and the smell of the stuff they stick the corticene down with ... +and we shall face the sad days ahead of us with renewed courage, James, +old man." + +"Thank you all," replied Thorogood gravely. "Thank you for your +beautiful words. Give my love to Mouldy if any of you see him"--the +speaker glanced over the side. "And now I have much pleasure in +informing you that the boat is alongside, and the sooner you all get +into it the sooner to sleep, as the song says." + +The Midshipmen were already scrambling down the ladder, carrying their +bags and coats, and the Wardroom Officers followed. Farewells and +parting shafts of humour floated up from the sternsheets; Thorogood +stood at the top of the gangway and waved adieu with his telescope as +the boat shoved off and circled round the stern towards the +landing-place. For a moment he stood looking after the smiling faces +and waving caps and then turned inboard with a sigh. + +"Liberty men present, sir!" The Master-at-Arms and Sergeant-Major made +their reports and Thorogood moved forward, passing briskly down the +lanes of motionless figures and shiny, cheerful countenances. + +"Carry on," he said, and acknowledged the salute of the Chief of Police +and the Sergeant of Marines. + +The men filed over the side and took their places in the boats waiting +alongside, and as they sheered off from the ship in tow of the launch +and followed in the wake of the distant picket-boat, the closely packed +men suddenly broke into a tempest of cheering. + +The Captain was walking up and down the quarterdeck talking to the +Commander. He smiled as the tumult of sound floated across the water. + +"I wonder they managed to bottle it up as long as they have," he said. +"Bless 'em! They've earned their drop of leave if ever men did." They +took a few turns in silence. "I hope to get away to-night," continued +the Captain, "if they put us in dock this afternoon. When are you +going for your leave, Hornby?" + +The Commander ran his eye over the superstructure and rigging of the +foremast. "Oh, I don't know, sir," he said. "I hadn't thought about +it much.... I think I'll get that new purchase for the fore-derrick +rove to-morrow...." + +The colour had gone out of the sunset, and in the pale green sky at the +head of the valley a single star appeared. + +With the approach of dusk the noises of the river multiplied; a score +of liquid voices seemed to blend into the sleepy murmur of sounds that +babbled drowsily among the rocks and boulders, and was swallowed +beneath the overhanging branches of the trees. + +The India-rubber Man moved quietly down stream, scarcely +distinguishable from the gathering shadows by the riverside; he carried +a light fly-rod, and once or twice he stopped, puffing the briar pipe +between his teeth, to stare intently at the olive-hued water eddying +past. + +"Coo-ee!" + +A faint call floated up the valley, clear and musical above the voices +of the stream. The India-rubber Man raised his head abruptly and a +little smile flitted across his face. Then he raised his hand to his +mouth and sent the answer ringing down-stream: + +"Coo-oo-ee-e!" + +He stood motionless in an attitude of listening and the hail was +repeated. + + "Sunset and evening star," + +he quoted in an undertone, + + "And one clear call for me...." + + +There had been a period in his life some years earlier when the +India-rubber Man discovered poetry. For months he read greedily and +indiscriminately, and then, abruptly as it came, the fit passed; but +tags of favourite lines remained in his memory, and the rhythm of +running water invariably set them drumming in his ears. + +He turned his back on the whispering river and, scrambling up the bank, +made his way down-stream through the myriad scents and signs of another +summer evening returning to its peace. The path wound through a +plantation of young firs which grew fewer as he advanced, and presently +gave glimpses beyond the tree-trunks of a wide stretch of open turf. +The river, meeting a high wall of rock, swung round noiselessly almost +at right angles to its former course; in the centre of the ground thus +enclosed stood a weather-beaten tent, and close by lay a small +two-wheeled cart with its shafts in the air. + +The India-rubber Man paused for a moment on the fringe of the +plantation and stood taking in the quiet scene. The shadowy outline of +a grazing donkey moved slowly across the turf which narrowed to a +single spit of sand, and here, standing upright with her hands at her +sides, was the motionless figure of a girl, staring up the river. +Something in her attitude stirred a poignant little memory in the mind +of the India-rubber Man. In spite of his nearness he still remained +invisible to her against the background of the darkling wood. + +"Betty!" he called. + +For an instant she stared and then came towards him, moving swiftly +with her lithe, ineffable grace. + +"Oh," she cried, "there you are!" She slid her fingers into his +disengaged hand and fell into step beside him. "Bunje," she said with +a little laugh that was half a sigh, "I'm like an old hen with one +chick--I can hardly bear you out of my sight! Have you had good +hunting? What was the evening rise like?" + +"It was good," replied the India-rubber Man. "But it was better still +to hear you call." + +They came to a tall bush where the blossoms of a wild rose glimmered in +the dusk like moths. The India-rubber Man stabbed the butt of his rod +in the turf, took off his cast-entwined deerstalker and hung it on a +bramble; then he slipped the strap of his creel over his head and +emptied the contents on to the grass. + +"Five," he said, counting. They knelt beside the golden trout and laid +them in a row. "I could have taken more," he added, "but that's all we +want for breakfast. Besides, it was too nice an evening to go on +killing things.... Sort of peaceful. That's a nice one, though, that +pounder. He fancied a coachman..." The India-rubber Man straightened +up and sniffed the evening air aromatic with the scent of burning wood. +"And I've got a sort of feeling I could fancy something, Bet----" + +Betty rose too. "It's ready," she said. "I've put the table in the +hollow behind the bush. I've got a surprise for you--'will you walk +into my parlour? said the spider to the fly.'" + +She led the way into the hollow. A brazier of burning logs stood on +the side nearest the river, with a saucepan simmering upon it. Close +under the wild-rose bush was a folding table covered with a +blue-and-white cloth laid in readiness for a meal, with a camp stool on +either side. From an overhanging branch dangled a paper Japanese +lantern, glowing in the blue dusk like a jewel. + +"You're a witch, Betty," said the India-rubber Man. "Where did you get +the lantern?" + +"At that village we passed through yesterday. It was a surprise for +you!" She made a little obeisance on the threshold of their star-lit +dining-room. "Will it please my lord to be seated?" she asked +prettily, and bending down busied herself amid the ashes underneath the +brazier. "There's grilled trout and stewed bunny-rabbit," she added, +speaking over her shoulder. + +"Good enough," said her lord. "Sit down, Bet, I'm going to do the +waiting." Betty laughed. "I don't mind this sort of waiting," she +replied. "It's the other kind that grew so wearisome." + +They made their meal while a bat, attracted by the white cloth, +flickered overhead, and the shadows closed in round them, deepening +into night. When the last morsel of food had vanished the India-rubber +Man turned sideways on his stool to light a pipe, and by the light of +the match they stared at one another with a sudden fresh realisation of +their present happiness and the fullness thereof. + +"Isn't it good?" said Betty. "Isn't it worth almost anything to have +this peace?" She made a little gesture, embracing the scented quiet. +"And just us two ... alone." + +The India-rubber Man tossed the match on to the turf where it burned +steadily in a little circle of warm light. + +"Yes," he said. "Just us two ... Hark, Betty!" He held up his finger. + +For a moment they listened to the infinitesimal noises of the night, +straining their ears in the stillness. The river wound past them with +a faint, sibilant sound like a child chuckling in its sleep; an owl +hooted somewhere in the far-off sanctuary of the trees. Betty drew her +breath with a little sigh that was no louder than the rustle of the +bat's wings overhead. The match burning on the grass beside them +flared suddenly and went out. + +"You know," said the India-rubber Man presently, "I was thinking +to-night--up there, along the river--how good it all is, this little +old England of ours. I sat on a big boulder and watched a child in the +distance driving some cows across a meadow to be milked.... There +wasn't a leaf stirring, and the only sounds were the sleepy noises of +the river.... It was all just too utterly peaceful and good." The +India-rubber Man puffed his pipe in silence for a moment. "It struck +me then," he went on in his slow, even tones, "that any price we can +pay--any amount of sacrifice, hardship, discomfort--is nothing as long +as we keep this quiet peace undisturbed...." Again he lapsed into +silence, as if following some deep train of thought; the sound of the +donkey cropping the grass came from the other side of the bush. + +"One doesn't think about it in that way--up there," he jerked his head +towards the North. "You just do your job for the job's sake, as one +does in peace-time. Even the fellows who die, die as if it all came in +the day's work." His mind reverted to its original line of thought. +"But even dying is a little thing as long as all this is undefiled." +He smoked in silence for a minute. + +"Death!" he continued jerkily, as if feeling for his ideas at an +unaccustomed depth. "I've seen so much of Death, Betty: in every sort +of guise and disguise, and I'm not sure that he isn't only the biggest +impostor, really. A bogie to frighten happiness.... A turnip-mask +with a candle inside, stuck up just round some corner along the road of +life." + +"You never know which corner it is, though," said Betty. She nodded +her head like a wise child. "That's why it's frightening--sometimes." + +For a while longer they talked with their elbows on the table and their +faces very close, exchanging those commonplace yet intimate scraps of +philosophy which only two can share. Then the India-rubber Man fetched +a pail of water from the river, and together they washed up. + +"I met Clavering away up the river this evening," he said presently. +"He said they'd come down after supper and bring the banjo," and as he +spoke they heard the murmur of voices along the river bank. Two +figures loomed up out of the darkness and entered the circle of light +from the brazier. + +"Good hunting!" said a girl's clear voice. "Garry was feeling +musically inclined, and so we brought the Joe with us." + +The India-rubber Man returned from the direction of the tent, carrying +rugs and coats which he proceeded to spread on the ground. + +"We're pushing on to-morrow," continued Clavering's deep voice. "There +are some lakes in the hills we want to reach while this fine weather +lasts. What are your movements, Standish? Keep somewhere near us, so +that we can have our sing-songs of an evening sometimes." + +"We'll follow," replied the India-rubber Man. "Nebuchadnezzar ought to +have a day's rest to-morrow, and then we'll pick up the trail. Your +old caravan oughtn't to be difficult to trace. Did you do any good on +the river this evening...?" + +They settled down among the rugs, and for a while the conversation ran +on the day's doings. Then Etta Clavering drew her banjo from its case. +"What shall we have?" she asked, fingering the strings: and without +further pause she struck a few opening chords and began in her musical +contralto: + + "Under the wide and starry sky..." + +The slow, haunting melody floated out into the night, and Betty, seated +beside her husband, felt his hand close firmly over hers as it rested +among the folds of the rug. The warm glow of the fire lit the faces of +the quartette and the white throat of the singer. + + "Home is the sailor, home from sea, + And the hunter home from the hill..." + + +The last notes died away, and before anyone could speak the banjo broke +out into a gay jingle, succeeded in turn by an old familiar ballad in +which they all joined. Then Clavering cleared his throat and in his +deep baritone sang: + + "Sing me a song of a lad that is gone + Over the hills to Skye," + + +A few coon songs followed, with the four voices, contralto and +baritone, tenor and soprano, blending in harmony. Then Etta Clavering +drew her fingers across the strings and declared it was time for bed. + +"One more," pleaded Betty. "Just one more. You two sing." + +Etta Clavering turned her head and eyed her husband; her eyes glittered +in the starlight and there was a gleam of white teeth as she smiled. +She tentatively thrummed a few chords. + +"Shall we, Garry?" + +Her husband nodded. "Yes," he said, "that one." He took his pipe from +his mouth. "Go ahead...." + +So together they sang "Friendship," that perfection of old-world +romance which is beyond all art in its utter simplicity. + +The banjo was restored to its case at length, and the singers rose to +depart. Farewells were exchanged and plans for the future, while the +four strolled together to the edge of the woods. + +"Well," said Clavering, "we shall see you again the day after +to-morrow, with any luck." + +Etta Clavering turned towards Betty. "Isn't it nice to dare to look +ahead as far as that?" she asked with a little smile. "Fancy! The day +after to-morrow! Good night--good night!" + +Betty and the India-rubber Man stood looking after them until they were +swallowed by the darkness. Then he placed his arm round his wife's +shoulders, and together they retraced their steps across the clearing +towards the tent. + + * * * * * + +"This is the place," said the Young Doctor. He piloted his companion +aside from the throng of Regent Street traffic and turned in at a +narrow doorway. Pushing open a swing door that bore on its glass +panels the inscription "MEMBERS ONLY," he motioned the First Lieutenant +up a flight of stairs. "You wait till you get to the top, Number One," +he said, "you'll forget you're ashore." + +"Thank you," said the First Lieutenant as they ascended, "but I don't +know that I altogether want to forget it." + +They had reached the threshold of a small ante-room hung about with +war-trophies and crowded with Naval officers. The majority were +standing about chatting eagerly in twos and threes, while a girl with a +tray of glasses steered a devious course through the crush and took or +fulfilled orders. Through an open doorway beyond they caught a glimpse +of more uniformed figures, and the tobacco-laden air hummed with +Navy-talk and laughter. + +The Young Doctor hung his cap and stick on the end of the banisters and +elbowed his way to the doorway, exchanging greetings with acquaintances. + +"Come in here," he said over his shoulder to the First Lieutenant, "and +let's see if there's anyone from the ship--hullo! I didn't expect to +see this----" He made a gesture towards the empty fireplace. There, +seated upon the club-fender, with his right hand in his trousers pocket +and his expression of habitual gloom upon his countenance, sat Mouldy +Jakes. His left sleeve hung empty at his side, and from the breast of +a conspicuously new-looking monkey-jacket protruded a splint swathed +about in bandages. A newly-healed scar showed pink across his scalp. + +A laughing semi-circle sat round apparently in the enjoyment of some +anecdote just concluded. A Submarine Commander of almost legendary +fame stood by the fender examining something in a little morocco case. +Mouldy Jakes turned a melancholy eye upon the newcomers. + +"More of 'em," he said in tones of dull despair. "What d'you +want--Martini or Manhattan?" + +"Martini," replied the Young Doctor, advancing, "both of us; but why +this reckless hospitality, Mouldy? Are you celebrating an escape from +the nursing home?" + +The Submarine man closed the case with a little snap and handed it back +to Mouldy Jakes. + +"We're just celebrating Mouldy's acquisition of that bauble," he +explained. "He's been having the time of his life at Buckingham Palace +all the morning." + +"Not 'arf," confirmed the hero modestly. "Proper day-off, I've been +having!" He raised his voice. "Two more Martinis an' another plain +soda, please, Bobby." + +The First Lieutenant laughed. + +"Who's the soda water for--me?" + +Mouldy shook his head lugubriously. + +"No," he replied, "me. There was another bird there this morning being +lushed up to a bar to his D.S.O.--an R.N.R. Lieutenant called Gedge. +What you'd call a broth of a boy. We had lunch together afterwards." +The speaker sighed heavily and passed his hand across his forehead. "I +think we must have had tea too," he added meditatively. + +The Young Doctor looked round the laughing circle of faces. "Where is +he? Did you bring him along with you?" + +Mouldy Jakes shook his head and reached out for his soda water. "No +... he went to sleep...." + +The Young Doctor sat down on the fender beside the speaker. "How's the +hand getting on, old lad?" + +"Nicely, what's left of it. They let me out without a keeper now. Had +a good leave? When d'you go back?" + +"To-morrow," replied the First Lieutenant with a sigh. "Buck up and +get well again, Mouldy, and come back to us. We're all going North +to-morrow night, Gerrard and Tweedledum, and Pills here ... and all the +rest of 'em. You'd better join up with the party!" He spoke in gently +chaffing, affectionate tones. "I don't think we can spare you, old +Sunny Jim." + +"No," said Mouldy Jakes dryly; "but unfortunately that's what the +rotten doctors say." He rose to his feet and extended his uninjured +hand, "S'long, Number One! I've got to get back to my old nursing home +or I'll find myself on the mat.... S'long, Pills. Give 'em all my +love, and tell 'em I'm coming back all right when the plumbers have +finished with me." He stopped at the doorway and turned, facing the +group round the fireplace. + +"I guess you couldn't do without your Little Ray of Sunshine!" His wry +smile flitted across his solemn countenance and the next moment he was +gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +INTO THE WAY OF PEACE + +The King's Messenger thrust a bundle of sealed envelopes into his black +leather despatch-case and closed the lock with a snap. + +"Any orders?" he asked. "I go North at eleven to-night." + +The civilian clerk seated at the desk in the dusty Whitehall office +leaned back in his chair and passed his hand over his face. He looked +tired and pallid with overwork and lack of exercise. + +"Yes," he said, and searched among the papers with which the desk was +littered. "There was a telephone message just now----" He found and +consulted some pencilled memoranda. "You are to call at Sir William +Thorogood's house at nine o'clock. There may be a letter or a message +for you to take up to the Commander-in-Chief." The speaker picked up a +paper-knife and examined it with the air of one who saw a paper-knife +for the first time and found it on the whole disappointing. "The Sea +Lords are dining there," he added after a pause. + +The King's Messenger was staring through the window into the well of a +dingy courtyard. He received his instructions with a rather absent nod +of the head. + +"The house," continued the civilian in his colourless tones, "is in +Queen Anne's Gate, number----" + +"I know the house," said the King's Messenger quietly. He turned and +looked at the clock. "Is that all?" he asked. "If so, I'll go along +there now." + +"That's all," replied the other, and busied himself with his papers. +"Good night." + +Despatch-case in hand, d'Auvergne, the King's Messenger, emerged from +the Admiralty by one of the small doors opening on to the Mall. He +paused on the step for a moment, meditating. The policeman on duty +touched his helmet. + +"Taxi, sir?" + +"No, thanks," replied d'Auvergne. "I think I'll walk; I've not far to +go." + +Dusk was settling down over the city as he turned off into St. James's +Park, but the afterglow of the sunset still lingered above the Palace +and in the soft half-light the trees and lawns held to their vivid +green. A few early lamps shone with steady brilliance beyond the +foliage. + +On one of the benches sat a khaki-clad soldier and a girl, +hand-in-hand; they stared before them unsmiling, in ineffable +speechless contentment. The King's Messenger glanced at the pair as he +limped past, and for an instant the girl's eyes met his +disinterestedly; they were large round eyes of china blue, limpid with +happiness. + +The passer-by smiled a trifle grimly. "Bless 'em!" he said to himself +in an undertone. "They don't care if it snows ink.... And all the +world's their garden...." + +Podgie d'Auvergne had fallen into a habit of talking aloud to himself. +It is a peculiarity of men given to introspective thought who spend +much time alone. Since the wound early in the war that cost him the +loss of a foot he had found himself very much alone, though the role of +"Cat that walked by Itself" was of his own choosing. It is perhaps the +inevitable working of the fighting male's instinct, once maimed +irrevocably, to walk thenceforward a little apart from his +fellows--that gay company of two-eyed, two-legged, two-armed favourites +of Fate for whom the world was made. + +For a while he pursued the train of thought started by the lovers on +the bench. The distant noises of the huge city filled his ears with a +murmur like a far-off sea, and abruptly, all unbidden, Hope the +Inextinguishable flamed up within him. Winged fancy soared and flitted +above the conflagration. + +"But supposing," said Podgie d'Auvergne to the pebbles underfoot, +returning to his hurt like a sow to her wallow, "supposing I was +sitting there with her on that seat and some fellow came along and +insulted her!" He considered unhinging possibilities with a brow of +thunder. "Damn it!" said the King's Messenger, "I couldn't even thrash +the blighter." + +He made a fierce pass in the air with his walking-stick, dispelling +imaginary Apaches, and brought himself under the observation of a +policeman in Birdcage Walk. + +"Any way, I'm not likely to find myself sitting on a bench with her in +St. James's Park, or anywhere else," concluded the soliloquist. High +Fancy, with scorched wings, fluttered down to mundane levels. + +He turned into Queen Anne's Gate, but on the steps leading up to the +once familiar door he paused and looked up at the front of the old +house. + +"That's her window," said the King's Messenger, and added sternly, "but +I'm here on duty, and even if she----" He rang the bell and stood +listening to the preposterous thumping of his heart. + +The door opened while he was framing an imaginary sentence that had +nothing to do with the duty in hand. + +"Hullo, Haines!" he said. "Where's Sir William?" + +The old butler peered at the visitor irresolutely for an instant. + +"Why," he said, "Mr. d'Auvergne, sir, you're a stranger! For a moment +I didn't recognise you standing out on the doorstep----" + +The visitor crossed the threshold and was relieved of cap and stick. + +"Sir William said an officer from the Admiralty would call at nine, +sir; but he didn't mention no name, and I was to show you into the +library. Sir William is still up in the laboratory, sir"--the butler +lowered his voice to a confidential undertone--"with all the Naval +gentlemen that was dining here--their Lordships, sir." He turned as he +spoke and led the way across the hall. "It's a long time since you was +last here, sir, if I may say so----" There was the faintest tone of +reproach in the old servitor's tones. "I dare say you'll be forgetting +your way about the house." The butler stopped at a door. "This way, +sir--Miss Cecily's in here----" + +The King's Messenger halted abruptly, as panic-stricken a young +gentleman as ever wore the King's uniform. + +"Haines!" he said. "No! Not--not that room. I'll wait--I----" But +the old man had opened the door and stood aside to allow the visitor to +enter. + +D'Auvergne drew a deep breath and stepped forward. As he did so, the +butler spoke again. + +"Lieutenant d'Auvergne, Miss," he said, and quietly closed the door. + +Save for the light from a shaded electric reading-lamp by the fireplace +the big room was in shadow. A handful of peat smouldered on the wide +brick hearth and mingled its faint aroma with the scent of roses. + +An instant's silence was followed by the rustle of silk, and a +white-clad form rose from a low arm-chair beside the reading-lamp. + +"I seem to remember the name," said Cecily in her clear, sweet tones, +"but you're in the shadow. Can you find the switch ... by the door..." +An odd, breathless note had caught up in her voice. + +The King's Messenger laid the black despatch bag he still carried on a +chair by the door and limped towards her across the carpet. + +"I don't think the light would help matters much," he said quietly. +"I'm generally grateful for the dark." + +"Ah, Tony ..." said the girl, as if he had countered with a weapon +that somehow wasn't quite fair. "Come and sit down. We'll leave the +lights for a bit, and then we needn't draw the curtains: it's such a +perfect evening." She spoke quite naturally now, standing by the side +of the wide fireplace with one hand resting on the mantel. The soft +evening air strayed in at the open windows, and the little pile of +aromatic embers on the hearth glowed suddenly. + +The King's Messenger sat down on the arm of the vacant chair, and +looked up at her as she stood in all her fair loveliness against the +dark panelling. He opened his lips as if to speak, and then apparently +thought better of it. The girl met his gaze a little curiously, as if +waiting for some explanation; none apparently being forthcoming she +shouldered the responsibility for the conversation. + +"I'm all alone," she explained, "because Uncle Bill is up in the +laboratory. The air's full of mystery, too; there are five Admirals up +there, and one's a perfect dear..." Cecily paused for breath. "His +eyes go all crinkley when he smiles," she continued. + +"Lots of people's do," conceded the visitor. + +Cecily shot him a swift glance and looked away again. + +"He smiled a good deal," she continued musingly. "And Uncle Bill's +awfully thrilled about something. He was up all night fussing in the +laboratory, and when he came down to breakfast this morning he hit his +egg on the head as if it had been a German and said, '_Got_ it!'" + +The King's Messenger nodded sapiently, as if these unusual occurrences +held no mystery for him. Silence fell upon the room again: from a +clock tower in Westminster came the clear notes of a bell striking the +hour. The sound seemed to remind the visitor of something. + +"I was told to come here," he announced suddenly, as if answering a +question that the silence held. + +The white-clad figure stiffened. + +"_Told_ to!" echoed Cecily. "May I ask----" + +"They told me at the Admiralty," explained Simple Simon, the King's +Messenger, "I was to call for despatches." + +"Oh..." said Cecily, nodding her fair head, "I _see_. I confess I was +a little puzzled ... but that explains ... and it was War-time, and you +couldn't very well refuse, could you?" She surveyed him mercilessly. +"They shoot people who refuse to obey orders in War-time, don't +they--however distasteful or unpleasant the orders may be? You just +had to come, in fact, or be shot ... was that it?" + +The victim winced. + +"You don't understand," he began miserably. "There's a very +important----" + +Cecily interrupted with a little laugh. + +"Oh, dear, oh, dear! Tony, if you're going to begin to talk about +important matters"--the white hands made a little gesture in the +gloom--"why, of course, I couldn't understand. And I'm quite sure they +wouldn't ask you to do anything that wasn't really important.... Oh, +Tony, you must have had a lot of _terribly_ important things to do +during the last two years: so many that you haven't had time to look up +your old friends, or--or answer their silly letters even ... at least," +added Cecily, "so I've heard from people who--knew you well once upon a +time." + +The King's Messenger rose to his feet and began to walk slowly to and +fro with his hands behind his back. Cecily watched the halting step of +the man who three years before had been the hero of the Naval +Rugby-football world, and found his outline grow suddenly misty. + +"Listen," he said quietly. "I've got to tell you something. It's +something I'd have rather not had to talk about.... And I don't know +whether you'll altogether understand, because you're a woman, and +women----" + +"I know," said Cecily quickly. "They're just a pack of silly geese, +aren't they, Tony? They've no intuition or sympathy or power of +understanding.... They only want to be left in peace and not bothered +or have their feelings harrowed.... They're incapable of sharing +another's disappointment or sorrow, or of easing a burden or--or +anything...." + +The speaker broke off and crossed swiftly to the vacated chair. For a +moment she searched for something among the cushions and, having found +it, stepped to the window and stood with her back to the visitor, +apparently contemplating the blue dusk deepening into night. + +The King's Messenger stopped and stared at her graceful form outlined +against the window. Then he took one step towards her and halted +again. Cecily continued to be absorbed in the row of lights gleaming +like fireflies beyond the Park. + +"Cecily," he began, and let his mind return to an earlier train of +thought. "Supposing that I--that you were going for a walk with me." + +"We'll suppose it," said Cecily. "I've an idea it has happened before. +But we'll suppose it actually happened again." + +"I walk very slowly nowadays," added the King's Messenger. + +Cecily amended the hypothesis. + +"We'll suppose we were going for a slow walk," she said. + +"I can't walk very far, either." + +"A short, slow walk." + +"And supposing," continued the theorist in sepulchral tones, with his +hands still behind his back, "supposing some fellow came along +and--well, and said 'Yah! Boo!' to you--or--or something like that. +Cecily--would you despise me if I couldn't--er--run after him and kick +him?" + +Cecily turned swiftly. "Yah! Boo!" she ejaculated. "_Yah_! _Boo_! +Oh, Tony, how thrilling! I'd say 'Pip! Pip!'" + +She, too, had her hands behind her, and stood with her head a little on +one side regarding him. Her face was in shadow, and he saw none of the +tender mirth in her eyes. "Would you let me say 'Pip! Pip!' to a +perfect stranger, Tony?--and me walking-out with you!" + +"_Let_ you!" he said with a sort of laugh like a gasp and stepped +towards her. + +For an instant Fear peeped out of the two windows of her soul, and she +swiftly raised her hands as if to fend off the inevitable. But the +King's Messenger was swifter still and had them imprisoned, crumpled in +his somewhere between their galloping hearts. + +"My dear," he said, "my dear, I love you!" + +Her head dropped back in the shelter of his arm, and she searched his +face with eyes like a Madonna on the Judgment Seat. + +"I know," she said softly, and surrendered lips and soul as a child +gives itself to Sleep. + +Through the closed door came the muffled sound of voices in the hall. +Uncle Bill was talking in tones that were, for him, unusually loud. +Someone fumbling at the handle of the door appeared to be experiencing +some difficulty in opening it. + +Cecily, released, turned to the window like a white flash and buried +her hot face among the roses. The King's Messenger remained where he +stood, motionless. + +Slowly the door opened, letting in the murmur of voices. Uncle Bill +had his hand on the knob and stood with his shoulder turned to the +interior of the room, apparently listening to something one of his +guests was saying. + +In the lighted hall beyond, d'Auvergne caught a glimpse of Naval +uniforms and white shirt-fronts. + +"... It ought to go a little way towards 'confounding their knavish +tricks,'" a man's deep voice was saying. + +"Yes," said Sir William. He turned as he spoke and took in the +occupants of the room with a swift, keen glance. "'And to guide our +feet into the way of peace!'" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LONG TRICK*** + + +******* This file should be named 25921-8.txt or 25921-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/9/2/25921 + + + +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. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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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/25921-8.zip b/25921-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4874691 --- /dev/null +++ b/25921-8.zip diff --git a/25921.txt b/25921.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f6ca88 --- /dev/null +++ b/25921.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7815 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Long Trick, by 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: The Long Trick + + +Author: Lewis Anselm da Costa Ritchie + + + +Release Date: June 28, 2008 [eBook #25921] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LONG TRICK*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Transcriber's note: + + "Bartimeus" is the pseudonym of Captain Lewis Anselm da Costa + Ritchie, R.N. + + + + + +THE LONG TRICK + +by + +"BARTIMEUS" + +Author of "A Tall Ship," "Naval Occasions," etc. + + + + + + + + "Much of what you have done, as far as the public eye + is concerned, may almost be said to have been done in + the twilight."--_Extract from address delivered by the Prime + Minister on board the Fleet Flagship, Aug._, 1915. + + + + +Cassell and Company, Ltd +London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne + +First Published. October 1917. +Reprinted (Twice) October 1917, November 1917. + + + + + TO + one + CHUNKS + Who, in moments of frenzy, is called + HUNKS + and answers readily to + TUNKS, TINKS or TONKS, + This Book + is + INSCRIBED + + + + +FOREWORD + + +DEAR N AND M, + +This is the first opportunity I have had of answering your letter, +although I am hardly to blame since you chose to write anonymously and +leave me with no better clue to your address than the Tunbridge Wells +postmark. + +Fee! Fi! Fo! Fum! I am sorry about Torps, though. I admit his +death was a mistake, and I fancy my Publisher thought so too: but we +cannot very well bring him to life again, like Sherlock Holmes. So +please cheer up, and remember that there are just as many fine fellows +in the ink-pot as ever came out of it. + +I have borne in mind the final paragraph of your letter, which said, +"We do beseech you not to kill the India-rubber Man." In fact, I +originally meant him to be the hero of this book. But as the book +progressed I found the melancholy conviction growing on me that the +India-rubber Man had become infernally dull. A pair of cynical +bachelors like you will, I know, attribute this to marriage and poor +Betty. For my part I am inclined to put it down to advancing years. + +I have just finished the book, and, turning over the pages, found +myself wondering how you will like it. It has been written in so many +different moods and places and noises and temperatures that the general +effect is rather patchwork. But, after all, it was written chiefly for +the amusement of two people, and (as I believe all story-books ought to +be written) out of some curiosity on the Author's part to know "what +happened next." + +Thus, you see, I strive to disarm all critics at the outset by the +assumption of an ingenuous indifference to anything they can say. But +there is one portion of the book on which I have expended so much +thought and care that I am willing to defy criticism on the subject. I +refer to the Dedication. + +You probably skip Dedications, but they interest me, and I have studied +them a good deal. They are generally arranged in columns like untidy +addition sums, and no two lines are the same length. This is very +important. At the end you arrive, as it were by a series of +stepping-stones, at the climax. And there you are. + +No. Let the critics say what they will about the book: but I hold that +the Dedication is It. + +Yours sincerely, + +"Bartimeus" + + +_October_, 1917. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +FOREWORD + +CHAPTER + + 1. BACK FROM THE LAND + 2. THE "NAVY SPECIAL" + 3. ULTIMA THULE + 4. WAR BABIES + 5. UNCLE BILL + 6. WET BOBS + 7. CARRYING ON + 8. "ARMA VIRUMQUE..." + 9. "SWEETHEARTS AND WIVES" + 10. THE BATTLE OF THE MIST + 11. THE AFTERMATH + 12. "GOOD HUNTING" + 13. SPELL-O! + 14. INTO THE WAY OF PEACE + + + + + NOTE + + The Chapters headed "Wet Bobs" and + "Carrying On" appeared originally in + Blackwood's Magazine and are included in + the book by kind permission of the Editor. + + + + +THE LONG TRICK + + +CHAPTER I + +BACK FROM THE LAND + +Towards eight o'clock the fog that had hung threateningly over the City +all the afternoon descended like a pall. + +It was a mild evening in February, and inside the huge echoing vault of +King's Cross station the shaded arc lamps threw little pools of light +along the departure platform where the Highland Express stood. The +blinds of the carriage windows were already drawn, but here and there a +circle of subdued light strayed out and was engulfed almost at once by +the murky darkness. Sounds out of the unseen reached the ear muffled and +confused: a motor horn hooted near the entrance, and quite close at hand +a horse's hoofs clattered and rang on the cobbled paving-stones. The +persistent hiss of escaping steam at the far end of the station seemed to +fill the air until it was presently drowned by the ear-piercing screech +of an engine: high up in the darkness ahead one of a bright cluster of +red lights holding their own against the fog, changed to green. The +whistle stopped abruptly, and the voice of a boy, passing along the +crowded platform, claimed all Sound for its own. + +"_Chor-or-or-clicks!_" he cried in a not unmusical jodelling treble, +"_Chorclicks!--Cigarettes!_" + +The platform was thronged by bluejackets and marines, for on this +particular evening the period of leave, granted by some battleship in the +North, had expired. They streamed out of refreshment rooms and entrance +halls, their faces lit for a moment as they passed under successive arc +lights, crowding round the carriage doors where their friends and +relations gathered in leave-taking. Most of them carried little bundles +tied up in black silk handkerchiefs and paper parcels whose elusive +contents usually appeared to take a leguminous form, and something of the +traditional romance of their calling came with them out of the blackness +of that February night. It was reflected in the upturned admiring faces +of their women-folk, and acknowledged by some of the younger men +themselves, with the adoption of an air of studied recklessness. + +Some wore the head-gear of enraptured civilian acquaintances and sang in +undertones of unrequited love. Others stopped in one of the friendly +circles of light to pass round bottled beer, until an elderly female, +bearing tracts, scattered them into the shadows. They left her standing, +slightly bewildered, with the empty bottle in her hands. She had the +air, for all the world, of a member of the audience suddenly abandoned on +a conjurer's stage. + +In the shelter of one of the great pillars that rose up into the darkness +a bearded light o' love stopped and emptied his pockets of their silver +and coppers into the hands of the human derelict that had been his +companion through the past week. "'Ere you are, Sally," he said, "take +what's left. You ain't 'arf been a bad ole sort, mate," and kissed her +and turned away as she slipped back into the night where she belonged. + +Farther along in the crowd an Ordinary Seaman, tall and debonair and +sleek of hair, bade osculatory farewell to a mother, an aunt, a fiancee +and two sisters. + +"'Ere," finally interrupted his chum, "'ere, Alf, where do I come in?" + +"You carry on an' kiss Auntie," replied his friend, and applied himself +to his fiancee's pretty upturned mouth. This the chum promptly did, +following up the coup, amid hysterical laughter and face-slapping, by +swiftly embracing the mother and sisters. + +"You sailors!" said the friend's mother delightedly, straightening her +hat. + +"Don Jewans, all of 'em," confirmed the aunt, recovering the power of +speech of which a temporary displacement of false teeth had robbed her. +"Glad there wasn't no sailors down our way when I was a girl, or I +shouldn't be 'ere now." A sally greeted by renewed merriment. + +Indifferent to the laughter and horse-play near them a grave-faced Petty +Officer stood by the door of his carriage saying good-bye to his wife and +children before returning to another nine months' exile. A little boy in +a sailor-suit clung to the woman's skirt and gazed admiringly into the +face of the man he had been taught to call "Daddie"--the jovial visitor +who came to stay with them for a week once a year or so, after whose +departure his mother always cried so bitterly, writer of the letters she +pressed against her cheek and locked away in the yellow tin box under the +bed.... + +She held another child in her arms--a wide-eyed mite that stared up into +the murk overhead with preternatural solemnity. Their talk, of an +inarticulate simplicity, is no concern of ours. The little group has +been recorded because of the woman. Mechanically rocking the child in +her arms, with her neat clothes and brave little bits of finery, with, +above all, her anxious, pathetic smile as she looked up into the face of +her man, she stood there for a symbol of all that the warring Navy +demands of its women-folk. + +Beyond them, where the first-class carriages and sleeping saloons began, +the platform became quieter and less crowded. Several Naval and one or +two Military officers walked to and fro, or stood at the doors of their +compartments superintending the stowage of their luggage; a little way +back from the light thrown from the carriage windows, two figures, a man +and a girl, stood talking in low voices. + +Presently the man stepped under one of the overhanging lamps and +consulted his wristwatch. The light of the arc-lamp, falling on the +shoulder-straps of his uniform great-coat, indicated his rank, which was +that of Lieutenant-Commander. + +"We've got five minutes more," he said. + +The girl nodded. + +"I know. I've been ticking off the minutes for the last week--in my +head, I mean." She smiled, a rather wan little smile. Her companion +slipped his arm inside hers, and together they walked towards the train. + +"Come and look at my cabin, Betty, and--let's see everything's there." + +He helped her into the corridor, and, following, encountered the +uniformed attendant. The man held a notebook in his hand. + +"Are you Mr. Standish, sir?" he inquired, consulting his notebook. + +"That's my name as a rule," was the reply. "At the moment though, it's +Mud--spelt M-U-D. Which is my abode?" + +"This way, sir." The attendant led the way along the corridor and pushed +open the door of the narrow sleeping compartment. "Here you are, sir." +He eyed the officer's companion with a professionally reassuring air, as +much as to say, "He'll be all right in there, don't you worry." It +certainly looked very snug and comfortable with the shaded light above +the neat bunk and dark upholstery. + +"Ah," said the traveller, "we just wanted to--er--see everything was all +right." + +"Quite so, sir. Plenty of time--lady not travelling, I presume? I'll +come along when we're due to start and let you know." He closed the door +with unobtrusive tact. + +The lady in question surveyed the apartment with the tender scrutiny of a +mother about to relinquish her offspring to the rough usage of an +unfamiliar world. + +"Bunje, darling," she said, and bent and brushed the pillow with her +lips. "That's so that you'll sleep tight and not let the bogies bite." +She smiled into her husband's eyes rather tremulously. "And take care of +yourself as hard as ever you can. Remember your leg and your poor old +head." His cap lay on the bunk, and she raised a slender forefinger to +trace the outline of the shiny scar above his temple. "I've mended you +so nicely." + +"I'll take care of myself all right, and you won't cry, will you, Betty, +when I've gone? Promise--say: 'Sure-as-I'm-standing-here-I-won't-cry,' +or I'll call the guard!" + +"I--I can't promise not to cry a tiny bit," faltered Betty, "but I +promise to try not to cry much. And you will write and let me know when +I can come North and be near you, won't you?" A sudden thought struck +her. "Bunje, will they censor your letters? How awful! And mine too? +Because I don't think I could bear it if anybody but you read my letters." + +"No, they won't read 'em," reassured her husband. "At least, not yours. +And if mine have to be read, the fellow who reads 'em just skims through +'em and doesn't really take in anything. I've had to do it, an' I know." + +"Still, I'll hate it," said Betty woefully, and started at a light tap at +the door. "Passengers are taking their seats, sir," said the warning +voice outside. + +Doors were banging and farewells sounding down the length of the train +when Betty stepped out on to the platform. A curly-headed subaltern of a +Highland regiment who had been in possession of the door surrendered it, +and, catching a glimpse of Betty's face, returned to his compartment +thanking all his Gods that he was a bachelor. A whistle sounded out of +the gloom at the far end of the long train, and a green light waved above +the heads of the leave-takers. A faltering cheer broke out, gathered +volume, and, as the couplings tautened with a jerk, came an answering +roar from the closely packed carriages. + +Standish bent down. "Good-bye, Bet----" and for a moment lips and +fingers met and clung. The train was moving slowly. + +"God bless you!" she said with a queer little gasp, and stepped back into +one of the circles of subdued light. + +For a few seconds he saw her thus, a slim, girlish, fur-clad figure +standing with her hands at her side like a schoolgirl in class, her face +rather white and her lips compressed: then a bend hid her and the tumult +of cheering and farewell died. + +"Good on you, little girl," he muttered, and withdrew his head and +shoulders to fumble fiercely for his pipe. Courage in the woman he loves +will move a man as never will her tears. There is also gratitude in his +heart. + +He retraced his steps to his sleeping-compartment and was aware of the +faint fragrance of violets still lingering in the air. She had been +wearing some that he had bought her late that afternoon.... + +He sat down on the bunk and fervently pressed the tobacco into the bowl +of his pipe with his thumb. "Oh, damn-a-horse!" he said. For a moment +he sat thus sucking his unlit pipe and staring hard at the carpet, and +not until it sounded a second time did a knock at the door of the +compartment cause him to raise his head and say, "Come in!" + +The door opened, and a clean-shaven, smiling countenance, followed by a +pair of broad shoulders, appeared cautiously in the opening. Standish +stared at the apparition, and then rose with a grin of welcome. + +"Why!" he said, "Podgie, of all people! Come in, you old blighter!" + +The visitor entered. "How goes it, Bunje?" he said. "I saw you with +your missus just now, so I hid--I'm in the next cabin." He indicated the +adjoining compartment with a nod. + +"Sit down, old lad. What are you doing here? I thought----" The +speaker broke off abruptly, and his glance strayed involuntarily to the +ground. The new-comer nodded, and, sitting down on the bunk, pushed his +cap back from his forehead. + +"That's right." He extended his left leg. "Cork foot. What d'you go on +it, Bunje, eh?" They contemplated the acquisition in silence for a +moment. "I was in a destroyer, you know," pursued the speaker, "and one +of Fritz's shore batteries on the Belgian coast got our range by mistake +one day at dawn. Dusted us down properly." He extended his leg again. +"Hence the milk in the coco-nut, as you might say. However, we had a +makee-learn doctor on board--Surgeon-Probationer, straight out of the +egg, and no end of a smart lad: he dished me up in fine style. I went to +hospital for a bit, and they gave me six months' full-pay sick leave--not +a bad old firm, the Admiralty." + +"What then," asked the other, "invalided?" + +The visitor nodded. "But about a month ago I fell-in and said I couldn't +kick my heels any longer. Hadn't two to kick, in point of fact!" He +laughed softly at the grim jest. "So they lushed me up to this outfit, +and gave me a job as King's Messenger. I'm carrying despatches between +the Admiralty and the Fleet Flagship. Better'n doing nothing," he added +half-apologetically. + +"Quite," agreed Standish gravely: none knew better than he how beloved +had been the career thus abruptly terminated. He wondered, as he met the +speaker's smiling eyes with a sympathetic grin, whether he himself could +have carried it off like this. "But it was rotten luck--I'm----" + +The King's Messenger rose. "I've got a drop of whisky somewhere in my +bag," he interrupted. "Come along in there: I can't leave my +despatches--we'll have a yarn." + +He limped through the doorway, steadying himself with his hands against +the rocking of the train. Standish followed. Never again, he reflected, +would he follow those broad shoulders in a U.S. "Forward rush" to the +familiar slogan of "_Feet--forwards--feet!_" + +"You were wounded, too, last spring, weren't you?" queried the King's +Messenger, burrowing in his suit case for his flask. "Squat down at the +end there--got your glass?" He measured out two portions of whisky and +from the rack produced a bottle of soda. "Say when..." + +Standish nodded. "Thanks--whoa! Yes, I got a couple of 'cushy' wounds +and three months' leave." + +The other turned, helping himself to soda-water. "Lor', yes, and you got +spliced, too, Bunje!" He contemplated the Benedict over the rim of his +tumbler with the whimsical faint curiosity with which the bachelor Naval +Officer regards one of his brethren who has passed beyond the Veil. + +"Yes." For a moment Standish assumed a thoughtful expression. Then he +looked up, smiling. "What about you, Podgie? Isn't it about time you +toed the line?" + +The King's Messenger shook his head. "No. It doesn't come my way." His +eyes rested contemplatively on his outstretched leg. "Not very likely to +either.... How d'you like the idea of joining up with the 'Great Silent' +again after the flesh-pots and whatnot?" + +For the second time he had changed the conversation almost abruptly. + +Standish lit his pipe. "What's it like up there now?" He jerked his +head in the direction in which they were travelling. "How are they +sticking it? Have you been up lately? I haven't been in the Grand Fleet +yet." + +"Yes, I was up--let's see, last week. Oh, they're all right. A bit +bored, of course, but full of ginger. They go out and try to coax Fritz +to come out and play from time to time. Fritz says 'Not in these +trousers, I don't think,' and then they go home again, dodging 'tin +fish'[1] and raking up Fritz's 'warts'[2] out of the Swept Channels. +Talking of 'warts' reminds me of a yarn going round last time I was +up--it's a chestnut now, but you may not have heard it. One of the +mine-layers nipped down in a fog and laid a mine-field off the mouth of +the Ems. It was a tricky bit of work, and it seems to have touched up +the Padre's nerves a bit, because on the way back next morning, when he +was reading prayers--you know the bit about 'encompassed the waters with +bounds'?--he said, 'Encompassed the bounders with warts,' which was just +what they had done, pretty effectively!" + +The door to the corridor was half-open, and a tall figure in Naval +uniform who was passing at that moment glanced in, hesitated, and filled +the doorway with his bulk. A slow smile spread over his face and showed +his white, even teeth. It was a very infectious grin. + +"How goes it, Podgie?" he said quietly. + +The King's Messenger looked up. "Hallo!" he retorted. Then came +recognition. "Thorogood, surely! Come in, old lad. What are you doing +aboard the lugger-- D'you know Standish?" + +The new-comer nodded a greeting, acknowledging the introduction. + +"Station-mates in the East Indies, weren't we?" said Standish. + +"That's right," replied the other. "I remember you: we were both in camp +together--way back in the 'Naughty Naughts.' We used to call you the +India-rubber Man--Bunje for short." + +Standish laughed. "They do still," he said, "mine own familiar friends." + +"Have a drop of whisky," interrupted the King's Messenger. "'Fraid I +haven't got a glass----" + +The visitor hesitated. "Well, I've got old Mouldy Jakes in my +compartment. Can I bring him along: the old thing may get lonely. He +was in your term in the _Britannia_, wasn't he?" + +"He was. Fetch him along," said the King's Messenger. "Standish wants +to know all about life in the Grand Fleet. You two ought to be able to +enlighten him a bit between you." + +Thorogood contemplated the India-rubber Man thoughtfully. + +"Just joining up? Mouldy and I have been there since January, '15--I'll +fetch him." + +The speaker vanished and returned a moment later with a companion who +wore a Lieutenant's uniform, and carried a tooth-glass in his hand. His +lean, rather sallow face relaxed for an instant into a smile during the +process of introduction, and then resumed a mask-like gravity. He +up-ended a suit-case, sat down and silently eyed the others in turn. + +"What have you two been doing?" asked the King's Messenger. "Been on +leave?" + +"Yes," replied Thorogood. "I met Mouldy this morning, and we had a day +in town together." + +"Brave man! I should be sorry to have had such a responsibility. What +did you do?" + +"Well, we lunched with my Uncle Bill at his club----" + +"That was nice for Uncle Bill--what then?" + +"Uncle Bill had to go to the Admiralty, so I took Mouldy for a walk in +St. James's Park"--the speaker contemplated his friend sorrowfully--"and +I lost him." + +The King's Messenger laughed. "What happened to you, Mouldy?" + +The officer addressed put his empty glass between his knees and proceeded +to fill a cherrywood pipe of villainous aspect from a Korean oiled-silk +tobacco pouch. + +"Took a flapper to the movies," was the grave and somewhat unexpected +reply. + +Thorogood, lounging in any easy attitude against the door, took up the +tale of gallantry. "Apparently the star film of the afternoon was +'Britain's Sea-Dogs, or Jack-Tars at War,' and that appears to have been +too much for our little Lord Fauntleroy. He slipped out unbeknownst to +the fairy, and I found him at the club an hour later playing billiards +with the marker." + +The cavalier relaxed not a muscle of his sphinx-like gravity. "Never +know what to do with myself on leave," he observed in sepulchral tones. +"Always glad to get back. Like the fellow in the Bastille--what?" He +raised his empty tumbler and scanned the light through it with sombre +interest. "Long ship, this, James." + +The phrase is an old Navy one, and signifies much the same thing as the +Governor of North Carolina said to the Governor of South Carolina. + +"Sorry," apologised the host. "There isn't any more soda, I'm afraid, +but----" + +"Don't mind water," said his guest, diluting his tot from the +water-bottle. He turned to the India-rubber Man. + +"What ship're you going to?" he asked. + +Standish named the ship to which he had been appointed. The other took a +sip of his whisky and water and nodded with the air of one whose worst +misgivings had been confirmed. + +"I remember now: I saw your appointment. James and I belong to her. +We're going to be shipmates, then." He blew a cloud of smoke +ceilingwards. "It's all right in one of those new ships: no scuttles: +tinned air and electric light between decks: wake up every morning +feeling's if you'd been gassed. An' the turrets----" He plunged +gloomily into technicalities that conveyed the impression that the +interior of a turret of the latest design was the short cut to a lunatic +asylum. "I'm the Assistant Gunnery Lieutenant in our hooker, and I tell +you it's a dirty business." + +"What d'you do for exercise?" queried the India-rubber Man when the +Assistant Gunnery Lieutenant lapsed again into gloomy silence. + +"Plenty of that," said Thorogood. "Deck-hockey and medicine-ball--you +mark out a tennis-court on the quarter deck, you know, and heave a 9-lb. +ball over a 5 ft. net--foursomes. Fine exercise." He spoke with the +grave enthusiasm of the athlete, to whom the attainment of bodily fitness +is very near to godliness indeed. "You can get a game of rugger when the +weather is good enough to allow landing, and there's quite a decent +little 9-hole golf course. Oh, you can keep fit enough." + +"How about the sailors--are they keeping cheery?" + +Thorogood laughed. "They're amazing. Of course, we've got a real white +man for a Skipper--and the Commander, too: that goes a long way. And +they're away from drink and--other things that ain't good for 'em. +Everybody has more leisure to devote to them than in peace-time: their +amusements and recreations generally. Cinema shows and regattas, boxing +championships, and all the rest of it. There's fifty per cent. less +sickness and fewer punishments than we ever had in peacetime. Of course, +it's an exile for the married men--it's rough on them, but on the whole +there's jolly little grumbling." + +"Yes," said the India-rubber Man. "It must be rough on the married men." +He felt suddenly as if an immense period of time had passed since he said +good-bye to Betty: and the next moment he felt that he had had enough of +the others. He wanted to get along to his own compartment where the +scent of violets had lingered. + +He rose, stretching himself, and slipped his pipe into his pocket. +"Well," he said, "'Sufficient unto the day.' I'm turning in now." + +There was a little pause after his departure, and Thorogood prodded the +bowl of his pipe reflectively. + +"I wonder what's happened to the India-rubber Man?" he said. "It's some +time since I saw him last, but he's altered somehow. Not mouldy exactly, +either...." + +"He's married," said the King's Messenger, staring at the shaded electric +light overhead, as he sprawled with one elbow on the pillow. + +Mouldy Jakes gave a little grunt. "Thought as much. They get like +that." He spoke as if referring to the victims of an incomprehensible +and ravaging disease. "An' it's always the good ones that get nabbed." +He eyed the King's Messenger with an expression of melancholy +omniscience. "Not so suspicious, you know." + +"Well," said Thorogood, "that is as may be: but I'm off to bed. Come +along, Mouldy." + +The misogamist suffered himself to be led to the double-berthed +compartment he shared with Thorogood. + +The King's Messenger locked the door after their departure and got into +pyjamas. For a long time he sat cross-legged on his bunk, nursing his +maimed limb and staring into vacancy as the express roared on through the +night. Finally, as if he had arrived at some conclusion, he shook his +head rather sadly, turned in, and switched out the light. + +"Good lad, Podgie," observed Thorogood reflectively to his companion, as +he proceeded to undress. + +Mouldy Jakes, energetically brushing his teeth over the tiny +washing-basin, grunted assent. + +"Ever met my cousin Cecily?" pursued Thorogood. "No, I don't think you +did: she was at school when we stayed with Uncle Bill before the war." + +"Shouldn't remember her if I had," mumbled the gallant. + +"She's Uncle Bill's ward, and by way of being rather fond of Podgie, I +fancy--at least, she used to be, I know. But the silly old ass won't go +near her since he lost his foot." + +Mouldy Jakes dried his tooth-brush, and, fumbling in his trouser pocket, +produced a penny. + +"Heads or tails?" he queried. + +"Tails--why?" + +"It's a head. Bags I the lower berth." + +The India-rubber Man, in his compartment, had got into pyjamas and was +sitting up in his bunk writing with a pencil and pad on his knees. When +he had finished he stamped and addressed an envelope, rang for the +attendant, and gave it to him to be posted at the next stopping-place. +It bore an address in Queen's Gate, London, where at the moment the +addressee, curled up in the centre of a very large bed, was doing her +best in the darkness to keep a promise. + + + +[1] Torpedoes. + +[2] Mines. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE "NAVY SPECIAL" + +Railway travel appeals to the sailor-man. It provides him with ample +leisure for conversation, sleep, or convivial song. When the +possibilities of these absorbing pursuits are exhausted, remains a +heightened interest in the next meal. + +The pale February sunlight was streaming across snow-covered moorland +that stretched away on either side of the line, when the Highland +Express drew up at the first stopping place the following morning. +From every carriage poured a throng of hungry bluejackets in search of +breakfast. Many wore long coats of duffle or sheepskin provided by a +maternal Admiralty in view of the severe weather conditions in the far +North. The British bluejacket is accustomed to wear what he is told to +wear, and further, to continue wearing it until he is told to put on +something else. Hence a draft of men sent North to the Fleet from one +of the Naval depots in the South of England would cheerfully don the +duffle coats issued to them on departure and keep them on until they +arrived at their destination, with an equal disregard for such outward +circumstances as temperature or environment. + +A night's journey in a crowded and overheated railway carriage, muffled +in such garb, would not commend itself to the average individual as an +ideal prelude to a hearty breakfast. Yet the cheerful, sleepy-eyed +crowd of apparently par-boiled Arctic explorers that invaded the +restaurant buffet vociferously demanding breakfast, appeared on the +best of terms with themselves, one another and the world at large. + +A score or more of officers besieged a flustered girl standing beside a +pile of breakfast baskets, and the thin, keen morning air resounded +with banter and voices. The King's Messenger, freshly shaven and pink +of countenance (a woman once likened his face to that of a cherub +looked at through a magnifying glass), stood at the door of his +carriage and exchanged morning greetings with travellers of his +acquaintance. Then the guard's whistle sounded; the noise and laughter +redoubled along the platform and a general scramble ensued. Doors +slammed down the length of the train, and the damsel in charge of the +breakfast baskets raised her voice in lamentation. + +"Ane o' the gentlemen hasna paid for his basket!" she cried. Heads +appeared at windows, and the owner of one extended a half-crown. "It's +my friend in here," he explained. "His name is Mouldy Jakes, and he +can't speak for himself because his mouth is too full of bacon; but he +wishes me to say that he's awfully sorry he forgot. He was struck all +of a heap at meeting a lady so early in the morning...." The speaker +vanished abruptly, apparently jerked backwards by some mysterious +agency. The train started. + +The maiden turned away with a simper. "It was no his friend at all," +she observed to the young lady from the buffet, who had emerged to wave +farewell to a bold, bad Engine Room Artificer after a desperate +flirtation of some forty seconds' duration. "It was himself." + +"They're a' sae sonsie!" said the young lady from the buffet with a +rapturous sigh. + +At the junction where the train stopped at noon, Naval occupation of +the North proclaimed itself. A Master-at-Arms, austere of visage and +stentorian voiced, fell upon the weary voyagers like a collie rallying +a flock of sheep. A Lieutenant-Commander of the Reserve, in a tattered +monkey-jacket, was superintending the unstowing of bags and hammocks by +a party of ancient mariners in white working rig and brown gaiters. A +retired Boatswain, who apparently bore the responsibilities of local +Traffic Superintendent upon his broad shoulders, held sage council with +the engine driver. + +The travellers were still many weary hours from their destination, but +the solicitude of the great Mother Fleet for her sons' welfare was +plain on every side. There were evidences of a carefully planned, +wisely executed organisation in the speed with which the great crowd of +blue-jackets and marines of all ranks and ratings, and bound for fifty +different ships, were mustered, given their dinners and marshalled into +the "Navy Special" that would take them on their journey. + +Mouldy Jakes deposited his bags and rug strap on the platform and +surveyed the scene with mournful pride. "Good old Navy!" he observed +to the India-rubber Man, while Thorogood went in search of food. "Good +old firm! Father and mother and ticket collector and supplier of +ham-sandwiches to us all. Who wouldn't sell his little farm and go to +sea?" + +Standish picked up his suit-case and together they made for the +adjoining platform, where the train that was to take them on their +journey was waiting. + +They selected a carriage and were presently joined by Thorogood, +burdened with eatables and soda water. The bluejackets were already in +their carriages, and the remaining officers, to the number of about a +score, were settling down in their compartments. They represented all +ranks of the British Navy; a Captain and two Commanders were joined by +the Naval Attache of a great neutral Power on his way to visit the +Fleet. An Engineer Commander and a Naval Instructor shared a luncheon +basket with a Sub-Lieutenant and a volunteer Surgeon. Two Clerks, a +Midshipman and a Torpedo Gunner found themselves thrown together, and +at the last moment a Chaplain added himself to their company. + +The last door closed and the King's Messenger, carrying his despatch +case, came limping along the platform in company with the grey-bearded +Commander in charge of the base. The King's Messenger climbed into his +carriage and the journey was resumed. Along the shores of jade-tinted +lochs, through far-stretching deer forest and grouse moor, past +brawling rivers of "snow-brew," and along the flanks of shale-strewn +hills, the "Navy Special" bore its freight of sailor-men. + +No corridor connected the carriages to afford opportunities for an +interchange of visits for gossip and change of companionship. The +occupants of each compartment settled down grimly to endure the +monotony of the last stage of their journey according to the dictates +of their several temperaments. + +The King's Messenger, in the seclusion of his reserved compartment, +read a novel at intervals and looked out of the window for familiar +landmarks that recalled spells of leave in pre-war days, when he +tramped on two feet through the heather behind the dogs, or, thigh deep +in some river, sent a silken line out across the peat-brown water. + +In an adjoining compartment a Lieutenant of the Naval Reserve sat at +one end facing a Lieutenant of the Volunteer Reserve, while a small +Midshipman, effaced behind a magazine, occupied the other corner. +Conversation, stifled by ham sandwiches, restarted fitfully, and +flagged from train weariness. Darkness pursued the whirling landscape +and blotted it out. Sleep overtook the majority of the travellers +until the advent of tea baskets at the next stopping place revived them +to a more lively interest in life and one another. + +The Reserve Lieutenant fussed over his like a woman. "I wouldn't +trouble if I never smelt whisky again," he confided to his vis-a-vis, +"but I couldn't get on without tea." He helped himself to three lumps +of sugar. + +The ice thinned rapidly. + +"With fresh milk," said the Volunteer Reserve man appreciatively, +pouring himself out a cup. "Eh, Jennings?" + +The Midshipman, thus addressed, grinned and applied himself in silence +to a scone and jam. + +"Ah," said the Reserve man with a kind of tolerance in his tone, such +as a professional might extend to the enthusiasm of an amateur in his +own trade. "Cows scarce in your job?" + +"A bit," was the unruffled reply. "We've just brought a Norwegian +wind-jammer in from the South of Iceland...." He indicated with a nod +the young gentleman in the corner, who was removing traces of jam from +his left cheek. "I'm bringing the armed guard back to our base." + +The Reserve man drank his tea after the manner of deep-sea sailor-men. +That is to say, you could shut your eyes and still know: he was +drinking hot tea. + +"Armed Merchant-cruiser squadron?" he queried. Imperceptibly his tone +had changed. The Armed Merchant-cruisers maintain the Allied blockade +across the trade routes of the Far North: "fancy" sailor-men do not +apply for jobs in one of these amazons of the North Sea, and it takes +more than a Naval uniform to bring a suspect sailing ship many miles +into port for examination under an armed guard of four men. + +The Volunteer nodded. "We had a picnic, I can tell you. It blew like +hell from the N.E., and the foretopmast--she was a barque--went like a +carrot the second day. We hove to, trying to rig a jury mast, when up +popped a Fritz."[1] The speaker laughed, a pleasant, deep laugh of +complete enjoyment. "I thought we were in for a swim that would knock +the cross-Channel record silly! However, I borrowed a suit from the +skipper--and he wasn't what you'd call fastidious in his dress +either----" + +The Volunteer made a little grimace at the recollection, because he was +a man of refined tastes and raced his own yacht across the Atlantic in +peace time. + +"It was too rough to board, but the submarine closed to within hailing +distance, and a little pipsqueak of a Lieutenant, nervous as a cat, +talked to us through a megaphone. Fortunately I can speak +Norwegian...." + +"What about the skipper of the wind-jammer?" interrupted the other. + +"He kept his mouth shut. Wasn't much in sympathy with the company that +owned the submarine, having lost a brother the month before in a +steamship shelled and sunk without warning. You can't please +everybody, it seems, when you start out to act mad in a submarine. +Well, this lad examined our papers through a glass and I chucked him a +cigar.... He hadn't had a smoke for a week. Then he sheered off, +because he saw something on the horizon that scared him. He was very +young, and, as I've said, nerves like fiddle strings." + +The Reserve man lit a cigarette and inhaled a great draught of smoke. +There was something in his alert, intent expression reminiscent of a +bull terrier when he hears rats scuffling behind a wainscot. + +The war has evolved specialists without number in branches of Naval +warfare hitherto unknown and unsuspected. Among these is the Submarine +Hunter. The Reserve man belonged to this type, which is simply a +reversion to the most primitive and savage of the fighting instincts. +At the first mention of the German submarine he leaned forward eagerly. + +"Threw him a cigar, did you?" he said grimly. "Sorry I wasn't +there. I'd have thrown him something. That's my line of +business--Fritz-hunting." + +The ribbon of the Distinguished Service Cross on the lapel of his +monkey-jacket showed that he apparently pursued this branch of sport +with some effect. "Been at it from the kick-off," he continued. +"Started with herring nets, you know!" He laughed a deep bark of +amusement. "Lord! We had a lot to learn. We began from an East Coast +fishing port, working with crazy drifters manned by East Coast +fishermen. There was a retired Admiral in charge, as tough an old +terror as ever pulled on a sea boot--and half a dozen of us all +together, some Active Service and some Reserve like me. Navy? Bless +you, _we_ were the Navy, that old Admiral and us six." The speaker +raised his voice to make plain his words above the rattle of the train. +"There was a lot of talk in the papers about Jellicoe and Beatty and +the Grand Fleet and the Battle Cruisers, but they didn't come our way +and we didn't trouble them. We had a couple of score of trawlers and +drifters and four hundred simple fishermen to cram the fear of the Lord +into. That was our job!" + +He spoke with the peculiar word-sparing vividness of the man to whom +the Almighty had vouchsafed the mysterious gift of handling other men. +"Long-shore and deep-sea fishermen, good material, damned good, but +they took a lot of coaxing." He paused and contemplated his hands +resting on his knees. Scarred by frost-bite they were, with huge bones +protruding like knuckle-dusters. "Coaxing, mind you," he repeated. +"I've been chief of an Argentine cattle-boat for four years and Second +on a windjammer round the Horn for three years before that. I know +when to drive and when to coax. Never touched a man, sir." He paused, +rubbing off the moisture condensed on the window, to peer info the +night. + +Here, then, was an Apostle of Naval Discipline among a community of +fishermen whose acknowledged tradition it was to get drunk when and +where it suited their inclinations, to put to sea in the top-hats of +their ancestors and return to harbour as weather or the fish dictated, +whose instinctive attitude towards strangers was about as encouraging +as that of the Solomon Islanders. + +"We took 'em and trained 'em--gradually, you understand. Taught 'em to +salute the King's uniform, an' just why orders had to be obeyed: +explained it all gently"--the stupendous hand made a gesture in the air +as if stroking something. "Then after a while we moved 'em on to +something else--the Game itself, in fact--and my merry men tumbled to +it in no time. It was in their blood, I guess. They'd hunted +something all their lives, and they weren't scared because they had to +take on something a bit bigger. I tell you, after a few weeks I just +prayed for a submarine to come along and show what we could do." + +The Volunteer grinned understandingly. "Well?" he said. + +"We got one a week later. Just for all the world like a bloomin' +salmon. First we knew that there was one about was the _Merrie +Maggie_, one of our trawlers, blowing up. Well, I'd been over the same +spot in the morning, and there were no mines there then, so I knew our +friend wasn't far off...." The Submarine Hunter mused for a moment, +staring at his clasped hands, with the faint blue tattoo-marks showing +under the tan. "We got him at dawn--off a headland.... Oh, best bit +of sport that ever I had!" The speaker's hard grey eye softened at the +recollection. "We've got lots since, but never one as neat as that. +He just came to the surface and showed his tail-fin and----" the huge +hands made a significant downward gesture. + +If you have ever heard a Regimental Bombing Officer describe the +clearing of an enemy traverse, you will understand the complete +expressiveness of that gesture. + +"I'm going North now to join a new base up there. There are one or two +dodges that I can put them up to, I reckon." + +The Volunteer filled and lit a pipe. + +"Pretty work it sounds. Ours is duller, on the whole, but we get our +share of excitement. You never sight a steamer flying neutral colours +without the possibility of her hoisting the German ensign and slipping +a torpedo into you. That's why we introduced the Red Pendant business. +It meant inconvenience for all parties, but neutrals have only got the +Hun to thank for it." + +"Never heard of it," said the other. "Fritz-hunting is my game." + +"Well, you see, ever since they've tried to slip raiders through the +blockade we can't afford to close a stranger flying neutral colours +within gun or torpedo range. So we had to explain to neutrals that a +red flag hoisted by one of our merchant cruisers is the signal to heave +to instantly, and that brings her up well out of range. Then we drop a +boat and steam off and signal her to close the boat, and the boarding +officer goes on board and examines her papers. If she's got a cargo +without guarantees she's sent into one of the examination ports under +an armed guard to have it overhauled properly." + +"For contraband?" + +"Yes, and to see that the commodity she carries isn't in excess of the +ration allowed to the country of destination--if she's eastward bound, +that is. Also the passengers are scrutinised for suspects, and so on; +it's a big job, one way and another. That's all done by the +Examination Service at the port, though, and I don't envy them the job. +We only catch 'em and bring 'em in." + +For a while longer he talked between puffs at his pipe of the "twilight +service" rendered by the Armed Merchant-cruisers. He spoke of grim +stern-chases under the Northern Lights, of perils from ice and +submarines and winter gales, while the Allied strangle-hold tightened +month by month, remorselessly, relentlessly. + +"It's a peaceful sort of job, though, on the whole," he concluded. +"Nobody worries us. The public, most of 'em, don't know we exist. +Journalists don't want to come and visit us much," he chuckled. "We +don't find our way into the illustrated papers...." + +"That's right," said the Submarine Hunter. "That's the way to work in +war-time. If I had my way----" + +A jarring shudder ran through the train as the brakes were applied and +the speed slackened. The Reserve Man lowered the window and peered out +into the darkness. A flurry of snow drifted into the dimly lighted +carriage. + +"Hallo!" he ejaculated. "We're here. Bless me, how the time goes when +one gets yarning." + +The Volunteer rose and held out his hand. + +"My name is Armitage," he said, and named two exclusive clubs, one in +London and the other in New York. "Look me up after the war if you +pass that way." + +The Submarine Hunter took the proffered hand in his formidable grip. + +"Pleased to have met you. Mine's Gedge. I don't own a club, but the +Liverpool Shipping Federation generally knows my address. And the +girls from Simonstown to Vladivostock will tell you if I've passed that +way!" + +He threw back his head, displaying the muscular great throat above his +collar, and laughed like a mischievous boy. + +"Good luck!" he said. + +"Good hunting!" replied the Volunteer. + +He turned to the Midshipman. "Come along, sonny, shake the sleep out +of your eyes and go and collect our little party." + +Outside in the snowy darkness the great concourse of men was being +mustered: lanterns gleamed on wet oilskins and men's faces. Hoarse +voices and the tramp of heavy boots through the slush heralded the +passage along the platform of each draft as they were marched to the +barrier. A cold wind cut through the cheerless night like a knife. + +Armitage paused for a moment to accustom his eyes to the darkness. + +"Here we are, Mouldy," said a clear-cut, well-bred voice out of the +darkness surrounding a pile of luggage. "Here's our stuff. Get a +truck, old thing!" + +Armitage turned in the direction of the voice: as he did so a passing +lantern flashed on the face of a Lieutenant stooping over some +portmanteaux. + +"I thought as much," he said. "Thought I recognised the voice." He +stepped towards the speaker and rested his hand on his shoulder. +"James Thorogood, isn't it?" he said. + +The other straightened up and peered through the darkness at the face +of the Volunteer Lieutenant. "Yes," he replied, "but it's devilish +dark--I can't----" + +"I'm Armitage," said the other. Thorogood laughed. "Great Scott!" he +exclaimed. "Were you in the train? I didn't see you before----" + +"Neither did I," was the reply, "but I heard your voice and recognised +it. How is Sir William?" + +"Uncle Bill? Oh, he's all right. Hard at work on some comic invention +of his, as usual." + +The other nodded. "Well, give him my love when you write, and tell him +I've struck the type of man he wants for that experiment of his. I'll +write to him, though. Now I must go and find my little party of +braves--bringing an armed guard back to our base. Good-bye and good +luck to you." + +They shook hands, and the Volunteer half turned away. An afterthought +appeared to strike him, however, and he stopped. + +"By the way," he added, "how's Miss Cecily? Well, I hope?" + +"She's all right, thanks," was the reply. "I'll tell her I've seen +you." + +"Will you? Yes, thank you. And will you say I--I am looking forward +to seeing her again next time I come South?" + +The speaker moved away into the darkness. + +At that moment appeared Mouldy Jakes, panting behind a barrow. "Who's +that old bird?" he queried. + +"Another of 'em," replied Thorogood. + +"'Nother of what?" + +"Cecily's hopeless attachments. He's a pal of Uncle Bill's, and as +rich as Croesus. Amateur deep sea yachtsman before the war. He's +awfully gone on Cecily." + +"'Counts for him hanging round your neck, I s'pose," commented the +student of human nature. "Sort of 'dweller-near-the-rose' business. +Heave that suit-case over--unless you can find any more of your +cousin's admirers sculling about the country. P'raps they'll load this +truck for us and shove it to the boat. Ah, here's Podgie!" + +A moment later the King's Messenger joined the group. + +"Will you all come and have supper with me at the hotel?" he said. +"It's the last meal you'll get on terra firma for some time to come. +I've got a car waiting outside." + +Mouldy Jakes heaved the last of the bags on to the hand-cart and +enlisted the services of a superannuated porter drifting past in the +darkness. The King's Messenger had slipped his arm inside Thorogood's, +and the two moved on towards the barrier. + +"Has your wife got a young brother?" asked Mouldy Jakes abruptly as he +and the India-rubber Man followed in the wake of the porter and the +barrow. + +"Yes," replied Standish. "A lad called Joe--cadet at Dartmouth." + +"Did you ever ask him to dinner--before you were engaged, I mean?" +pursued the inquisitor. + +The India-rubber Man laughed. + +"Well, not dinner exactly. But I went down to Osborne College once and +stood him a blow-out at the tuck-shop." + +His companion nodded darkly in the direction of the King's Messenger. + +"Shouldn't wonder if Thorogood was feeling like that lad Joe. Useful +fellow to travel with, Thorogood." + + + +[1] Submarine. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +ULTIMA THULE + +Across the stormy North Sea came the first faint streak of dawn. It +overtook a long line of Destroyers rolling landward with battered +bridge-screens and salt-crusted funnels; it met a flotilla of +mine-sweeping Sloops, labouring patiently out to their unending task. It +lit the frowning cliffs, round which wind-tossed gulls wailed and +breakers had thundered the beat of an ocean's pulse throughout the ages. + +The Destroyers were not sorry to see the dawn. The night was their +task-master: in darkness they worked and in the Shadow of Death. They +passed within hailing distance of the Sloops, and on board the reeling +Destroyers here and there a figure in streaming oilskins raised his arm +and waved a salutation to the squat grey craft setting forth in the +comfortless dawn to holystone Death's doorstep. + +The Mine-sweepers refrained from any such amenity. Anon the darkness +would come again, when no man may sweep for mines. Then would be their +turn for grins and the waving of arms. In the meanwhile, they preferred +to remain grim and restless as their work. + +Presently the Destroyers, obedient to a knotted tangle of flags at the +yardarm of their leader, altered course a little; they were making for an +opening in the wall of rock, on either side of which gaunt promontories +thrust their naked shoulders into the surf. The long black, viperish +hulls passed through under the ever-watchful eyes of the shore batteries, +and the hooded figures on the Destroyer bridges threw back their duffle +cowls and wiped the night's accumulation of dried spray and cinders out +of the puckers round their tired eyes. + +The Commanding Officer of the leading Destroyer leaned across the +bridge-rails and stared round at the ring of barren islands encircling +the great expanse of water into which they had passed, the naked, +snow-powdered hills in the background: at the greyness and desolation of +earth and sky and sea. + +"Home again!" he said in an undertone to the Lieutenant beside him. "It +ain't much of a place to look at, but I'm never sorry to see it again +after a dusting like we got last night." + +The Lieutenant raised the glasses slung round his neck by a strap and +levelled them at a semi-globular object that had appeared on the surface +some distance away. "There's old Tirpitz waiting to say good morning as +usual." + +The Commander laughed. "Rum old devil he is. That's where the Hun has +the pull over us. He's got something better than a seal to welcome him +back to harbour--when he _does_ get back!" + +"When he does, yes." The other chuckled. "Gretchens an' iron crosses +an' joy bells. Lord, I'd love to see 'em, wouldn't you? Just for five +minutes!" + +The Commander moved across to the tiny binnacle. "I'd rather see my own +wife for five minutes," he replied. Then, raising his voice, "Starboard +ten!" + +"Starboard ten, sir," repeated the voice of the helmsman. + +The Commander stood with watchful eye on the swinging compass card. +"Midships ... steady!" + +"Steady, sir!" sang the echo at the wheel. The Commander glanced aft +through the trail of smoke at the next astern swinging round in the +smother of his wake. "Well, we shan't be long now before we tie up to +the buoy--curse these fellows! Here come all the drifters with mails and +ratings for the Fleet.... Port five!" + +"Port five, sir!" The flotilla altered course disdainfully to avoid a +steam drifter which wallowed through the wake of the Destroyers in the +direction of the distant fleet, still shrouded by the morning mist. +"That's the King's Messenger going off to the Fleet Flagship. There come +the others, strung out in a procession, making for the different +squadrons. Wake up, you son of Ham!" The speaker stepped to the lanyard +of the syren and jerked it savagely. Obedient to the warning wail +another drifter altered course in reluctant compliance with the Rule of +the Road. "I'd rather take the flotilla through Piccadilly Circus than +manoeuvre among these Fleet Messengers! They're bad enough on the high +seas in peace-time with their nets out, but booming about inside a +harbour they're enough to turn one's hair grey." + +If the truth be told, the past had known no great love lost between the +Destroyers and the fishing fleet. Herring-nets round a propeller are not +calculated to bind hearts together in brotherly affection. Perhaps dim +recollections of bygone mishaps of this nature had soured the Destroyer +Commander's heart towards the steam-drifter. + +On the outbreak of war, however, the steam fishing fleets became an arm +of the great Navy itself, far-reaching as its own squadrons. They +exchanged their nets for guns and mine-sweeping paraphernalia: they +became submarine-hunters, mine-sweepers, fleet-messengers and patrollers +of the great commerce sea-ways in the South. They became a little Navy +within the Navy, in fact, already boasting their own peculiar traditions, +and probably as large a proportion of D.S.C.'s as any other branch of the +mother Service. + +They are a slow, crab-gaited community that clings to gold earrings and +fights in jerseys and thigh boots from which the fish-scales have not +altogether departed. Ashore, on the other hand (where their women rule), +they consent to the peaked cap and brass buttons of His Majesty's +uniform, and wear it, moreover, with the coy self-consciousness of a +bulldog in a monogrammed coat. + +Link by link they have built up a chain of associations with the parent +Navy that will not be easily broken when the time comes for these little +auxiliaries to return to their peaceful calling. They have worked side +by side with the dripping Submarine; they have sheltered through storms +in the lee of anchored Battleships; they have piloted proud Cruisers +through the newly-swept channels of a mine-field, and brought a +Battle-cruiser Squadron its Christmas mail in the teeth of a Northern +blizzard. In token of these things, babies born in fishing villages from +the Orkneys to the Nore have been christened after famous Admirals and +men-of-war, that the new generation shall remember. + +The drifter that had altered course slowly came round again when the last +of the Destroyers swept past, and the three figures in the bows ducked as +she shipped a bucket of spray and flung it aft over the tiny wheel-house. +One of the figures turned and stared after the retreating hulls. + +"Confound 'em," he said. "Just like the blooming Destroyers, chucking +their weight about as if they owned creation, and making us take their +beastly wash." He took off his cap and shook the salt water from it. +One of the other two chuckled. "Never 'mind, Mouldy, it will be your +turn to laugh next time we go to sea, when you're perched on the +forebridge sixty feet above the waterline, and watching our +Destroyer-screen shipping it green over their funnels." + +Mouldy Jakes shook his head gloomily. "Laugh!" he echoed. "Then I'd get +shoved under arrest by the skipper under suspicion of being drunk." + +The drifter rounded an outlying promontory of one of the islands, and +Thorogood raised his hand. "There you are," he said, "there's our little +lot!" He indicated with a nod the Battle-fleet of Britain. + +"And very nice too," said the India-rubber Man, staring in the direction +of the other's gaze. "Puts me in mind, as they say, of a picture I saw +once. 'National Insurance,' I think it was called." + +A shaft of sunlight had struggled through a rift in the clouds and fell +athwart the dark waters of the harbour. In the far distance, outlined +against the sombre hills and lit by the pale sunshine, a thicket of +tripod masts rose towering above the grey hulls of the anchored +Battle-fleet. + +As the drifter drew near the different classes of ships became +distinguishable. A squadron of Light Cruisers were anchored between them +and the main Fleet, with a thin haze of smoke hovering above their raking +funnels. Beyond them, line upon line, in a kind of sullen majesty, lay +the Battleships. Seen thus in peace-time, a thousand glistening points +of burnished metal, the white of the awnings, smooth surfaces of enamel, +varnish and gold-leaf would have caught the liquid sunlight and concealed +the menace of that stern array. + +Now, however, stripped of awnings, with bare decks, stark as gladiators, +sombre and terrible, they conveyed a relentless significance heightened +by the desolation of their surroundings. + +From the offing came the rumble of heavy gunfire. + +"Don't be alarmed," said Thorogood to the India-rubber Man, who had +turned in the direction of the sound; "we haven't missed the bus!" He +looked along the lines with a swift, practised eye. "It's only some of +the Battle-cruisers out doing target practice. That's our squadron, +there." He pointed ahead. "We're the second ship in that line." + +The drifter passed up a broad lane, on either side of which towered grey +steel walls, unbroken by scuttles or embrasures; above them the muzzles +of guns hooded by casemates and turrets, the mighty funnels, piled up +bridges and superstructures, frowned down like the battlements of +fortresses. Men, dwarfed by the magnitude of their environment to the +size of ants, and clad in jerseys and white working-rig, swarmed about +the decks and batteries. + +"There's the Fleet Flagship," continued Thorogood, pointing. "That ship +with the drifters round her, flying the Commander-in-Chief's flag. +That's where Podgie was bound for. Rummy to think he'll be back in +London again in a couple of days' time!" + +A seaplane that had been riding on the surface near the Fleet Flagship's +quarter, rose like a flying gull, circled in wide spirals over the Fleet +and sped seawards. Across the lanes of water, armed picket-boats, with +preternaturally grave-faced Midshipmen at their wheels, picked their way +amongst the traffic of drifters, cutters under sail, hooting store +carriers and puffers from the distant base. + +Mouldy Jakes contemplated the busy scene without undue enthusiasm. + +"Everything seems to be much the same as usual," was his dry comment. +"They seem to have got on all right without me for the last seven days. +We've had a coat of paint, too. Wonder what's up. P'raps the King's +coming to pay us a visit. Or else the Commander reckons it's about time +to beat up for his promotion." + +The skipper of the drifter jerked the miniature telegraph to "Slow," and +a hoary-headed deck-hand stumped into the bows with a heaving line coiled +over his arm. The drifter crept up under the quarter of a Battleship +that towered above them into the grey sky. + +A tall, thin Lieutenant with a telescope under his arm looked down from +the quarterdeck and made a gesture of greeting. + +"Hullo, Tweedledum," said Thorogood; and added, "Bless me, Tweedledum's +shaved his beard off!" + +"Must be the King, then," said Mouldy gloomily. "Means I shall have to +order another monkey-jacket." A bull terrier thrust a python-like head +between the rails and wagged his tail. The drifter grated her fenders +alongside and made fast. + +The three officers climbed the swaying ladder to the upper deck, and were +greeted in turn by the tall Lieutenant with the telescope. "You're +Standish, aren't you?" he asked, turning to the India-rubber Man. "The +Commander wants to see you--you're an old shipmate of his, it seems?" He +led the way as he spoke towards a door in the after superstructure. + +"Yes," was the reply. "He was the First Lieutenant in my last ship--with +this Skipper." + +"Ah," said the other, "she must have been a good ship then." + +They skirted a hatchway in the interior of the superstructure that yawned +into the electric-lit interior of the ship, past cabins opening on to the +foremost side of them, and stopped at a curtained doorway. A square of +polished mahogany was screwed into the bulkhead beside it, with the +following inscription in brass letters: + + DON'T KNOCK. + COME IN. + + +The Officer of the Watch drew back the curtain and motioned to his +companion to enter. "Lieutenant Commander Standish, sir," he said. + +The Commander, who was writing at a knee-hole table, turned and rose with +his grave, slow smile. + +"Come in, Bunje," he said, holding out his hand. "Very glad you've got +here at last." He laid his left hand for an instant on the India-rubber +Man's shoulder and searched his face with kindly grey eyes. "How're the +wounds and the wife and all the other things you've collected since I saw +you last?" + +The India-rubber Man laughed. + +"They're all right, sir, thanks." He glanced at the cap, with its gold +oak leaves adorning the brim, lying on the desk. "I haven't +congratulated you on your promotion yet," he added. "I was awfully glad +to hear you had got your 'brass hat'!" + +The Commander laughed. "I still turn round when anyone sings out 'Number +One,'" he replied. "I was beginning to feel as if I'd been a First +Lieutenant all my life! Seems quite funny not to be chivvying round +after the flat-sweepers." He resumed his seat. "Well, you'll find a few +of the old lot here: there's the Skipper of course, and Double-O +Gerrard--d'you remember the A.P.? And little Pills: he's Staff Surgeon +now, and no end of a nut... Let's see--oh, yes, and young Bowses: he +used to be one of our snotties, if you remember. 'Kedgeree,' the others +called him. He's Sub of the Gunroom. That's about all of the old lot in +the Channel Fleet. But I think you'll like all the rest. It's a very +happy mess." + +The India-rubber Man was roving round the cabin examining photographs. + +"Hullo!" he said. "You've got poor old Torps's photo here." + +"Yes," was the reply. "I--I met a woman when I was on leave, of whom he +was very fond. She had two of his photographs and gave me that one." +The Commander had risen to his feet and was staring out of the scuttle +with absent eyes. "But, come along. The Skipper wants to see you, and +then I'll take you along to the mess. It's getting on for lunch time. +What sort of a journey did you have?" + +Still chatting they left the superstructure and passed aft along the +spacious quarterdeck, where, round the flanks of the great superimposed +turrets, a part of the watch were sweeping down the deck and squaring off +ropes. The Commander led the way down a hatchway aft to an electric-lit +lobby, where a marine sentry clicked to attention as they passed, and +opened a door in the after bulkhead. They crossed the fore cabin +extending the whole beam of the ship, and entered the after cabin. + +Unlike other cabins on the main deck, this was lit by scuttles in the +ship's side, and right aft, big armoured doors opened on to the stern +walk. It lacked conspicuously the adornments usually associated with the +Captain's apartment. Bare corticene covered the deck; the walls of white +enamelled steel were unadorned save for a big scale chart of the North +Sea and a coloured map of the Western Front. A few framed photographs +stood on the big roll-topped desk in one corner, and a bowl of purple +heather occupied the flat mahogany top to the tiled stove where an +electric radiator glowed. A bundle of singlesticks and a pair of foils +stood in the corner near an open bookcase; a padded "chesterfield" and a +few chairs completed the austere furnishing of the cabin. + +The Captain was standing before a deal table supported by trestles, which +occupied the deck space beneath the open skylight. On the table, amid +the litter of glue-pots, cardboard, thread and varnish, stood a model of +a Super-Dreadnought. He turned at the entry of the Commander and his +companion, laying down a pair of scissors. + +"Good morning, Standish," he said. "Glad to see you again. I won't +offer to shake hands--mine are covered with glue." He smiled in the +whimsical humorous way that always went straight to another man's heart. +"We're all returning to our second childhood up here, you see!" He +indicated the model. "This is my device for keeping out of mischief. +When finished I hope it will fill a similar role for the benefit of my +son, Cornelius James." + +Standish examined the model with interest and delight. + +"What a ripping bit of work, sir," he said. It was, indeed, a triumph of +patient ingenuity and craftmanship. + +"It's an improvement on wood-carving," was the reply. "All working +parts, you see." The Captain set in motion some internal mechanism, and +the turret guns trained slowly on to the beam. He pressed a button. +"Electric bow and steaming lights!" His voice had a ring of almost +boyish enthusiasm, and he picked up a tangle of threads from the table. +"But this fore-derrick purchase is the devil, though. All last evening I +was on the sheaves of one of the double blocks--maddening work. Hornby's +designing a hydraulic lift to the engine-room; column of water concealed +in the foremast, d'you see? When's that going to be finished, Hornby?" + +The Commander laughed. "We'll have it done in time for Corney's +birthday, sir." + +The Captain turned from the model. "Well, Standish," he said, "all +this"--he nodded at the work of his patient hands--"all this looks rather +as if we never had anything better to do! As a matter of fact, it's only +during the winter that one finds time for anything. We're pretty busy, +one way and another, you'll find. It'll take you some time to learn your +way round your turret, I expect. Jakes appears to find his an object of +some interest--do you know him, by the way?" The Captain's humorous blue +eyes twinkled. + +"Yes, I travelled up with him, sir. He mentioned the turret." + +"He probably did. He spends most of his life in his. Well, I'm glad +you've turned up in time for the Regatta. Our Wardroom crew wants a bit +of weight. I told the Admiral we were going to win the cock--the +Squadron trophy--this year, so you must see what you can do about it. +Also, I want you to look after the Midshipmen. They're a good lot, and +there's one in particular--Harcourt, isn't it, Commander?--who ought to +pull off the Midshipmen's Lightweights if he can keep down to the weight. +One or two want shaking up--Lettigne's too fat---- However, you probably +want to sling your hammock; hope you'll be comfortable." The Captain +nodded dismissal. As they reached the door the Captain spoke again. "By +the way," he said, "the children send their love...." + +"Now," said the Commander as they emerged, "it's nearly lunch time. Come +along to the smoking-room." + +They ascended again to the upper deck and forward of the superstructure, +descended a hatchway to the main deck. An open door in the armoured +bulkhead gave a glimpse forward of a gun battery and a teeming mess-deck +intent on its mid-day meal, where men jostled each other so thickly round +the crowded mess tables that it seemed incredible that anyone could live +for years in such surroundings and retain an individuality. + +They turned away and passed aft down an electric-lit alley-way. A door +on the right opened for a moment as they passed, and emitted the strains +of a gramophone and a boy's laughter. + +"That's the Gunroom," said the Commander. He led the way round a corner +and past the bloated trunk of an air-shaft to the other side of the ship. +"Here we are," he said, and opened a mahogany door in the white bulkhead, +stepping aside to allow the other to enter a smallish square apartment +lit by a skylight overhead and hazy with tobacco smoke. A few padded +settees and arm-chairs and a piano of venerable aspect, together with a +table covered by magazines and papers, comprised the furniture; +half-a-dozen coloured prints and a baize-covered notice board completed +the adornment of the walls. Through a doorway beyond came the hum of +conversation and clatter of knives and forks, where, in the Wardroom, +lunch had already commenced. About half-a-dozen members of the Mess, +however, still occupied the smoking-room; the nearest to the door, a +short, slightly built Staff Surgeon, in the act of shaking angostura +bitters into a glass which a steward proffered on a tray, turned his head +as the newcomers entered. + +"Bunje!" he cried, and put the bitters down. "Bunje! my son, Bunje! Oh, +frabjous day, Calloo, Callay! My arms enfold ye...." He enveloped the +India-rubber Man in a bear-like embrace. "Behold the prodigal returning! +Steward, bring hither a fatted calf and the swizzle-stick. Put a cherry +in it and a slice of lemon and eke crushed ice. My dear life!" He held +the India-rubber Man at an arm's length. "Bunje, these are moments when +strong men sob like little children. But let me introduce you." + +The occupants of the smoking-room, grinning, came forward to greet the +new messmate. The Staff Surgeon named them in turn. + +"This is the P.M.O. He's plus two at golf. I mention that in case he +offers to take you ashore and play you for half-a-crown. P.M.O., this is +Standish, a wounded hero and a friend of my care-free youth." The +speaker rolled his r's, thrust his hand into the bosom of his +monkey-jacket and struck a histrionic attitude. + +"Seated on the settee," he resumed, "caressing an overfed bull terrier, +we have Tweedledee, likewise overfed. Get up and say how d'you do to the +gentleman, Tweedledee." + +A short, chubby-faced Lieutenant rose and shook hands rather shyly. + +"Now," pursued the Doctor, "casting our eyes round the room at random we +see the Pilot--otherwise known as the 'Merry Wrecker.' The portly +gentleman in clerical garb helping himself to a cigarette out of someone +else's tin--His Eminence the Padre. The Captain of Marines you see +consuming gin and bitters: title of picture, 'Celebrities and their +Hobbies.' This is the Engineer Commander. He is considerably senior to +me and I therefore refrain from being witty at his expense. Taking +advantage of the general confusion caused by your arrival, the First +Lieutenant selects this moment to peep into the turgid pages of an +illustrated Parisian journal I regret to say this mess contributes to." + +The lecturer paused for breath. A tall, florid-faced Lieutenant +Commander with a broken nose, who had been leaning over the paper table, +pipe in mouth, straightened up with a chuckle and ostentatiously +fluttered the pages of the _Times_. He eyed the Staff Surgeon +reflectively for a moment and turned to the Captain of Marines. + +"Have we had enough, do you think, Soldier?" he asked in a voice of +ominous quiet. + +"I almost think so," replied the Captain of Marines. He finished his +_aperitif_ and stared absently at the skylight overhead. + +"Pills, dear," said the First Lieutenant in honeyed accents, "we're +afraid you are showing off before a stranger. There is only one penalty +for that." + +"The Glory-hole," said the Captain of Marines, and hurled himself on the +Staff Surgeon. The First Lieutenant followed suit, and between them they +dragged their struggling victim to the door. + +The bull terrier leaped around them with hysterical yelps of excitement. + +"Open the door, Padre," gasped the Captain of Marines as the struggle +swayed to and fro. "Garm, you fool, shut up!" + +The Chaplain complied with the request with alacrity, and the three +interlocked figures and the ecstatic dog floundered through out into the +flat. + +Just outside, in an angle formed by the armour of the turret and the +Wardroom bulkhead, was a small cupboard. It was used by the flat-sweeper +and messengers for the stowage of brooms, polishing paste, caustic soda +and other appliances of their craft, and was just large enough to hold a +small man upright. + +Into this dungeon, with the assistance of the Navigator, they succeeded +in stowing the Staff Surgeon, and despite his protests and frantic +struggles, shut and fastened the door. + +"Now," said the First Lieutenant, "let's go and have some lunch." + +"But you aren't going to leave him there, are you?" protested the +India-rubber Man. + +"Oh, no," was the reply. "The Padre is taking the time. Three minutes +we give him." They passed through into the long Wardroom where a score +or more of officers were seated at lunch round the table that occupied +practically the whole length of the apartment. "Come and sit here next +to Thorogood--you travelled up with him, didn't you?" + +The officer in question, who was ladling stewed prunes out of a dish on +to his plate, grinned at the new-comer. + +"Here you are," he said gaily. "Pea soup and boiled pork, my lad," and +passed the menu. "Mouldy's vanished since we got onboard. He's probably +lunching in his blessed old turret. I had some difficulty in restraining +him from trying to put his arms round it when he saw it again. Hullo! +Here's Pills. Pills, you look rather warm and your hair wants brushing." + +"So would yours if you had been set upon by Thugs," retorted the Doctor +as he took his seat. "Pea soup, please. Ha! There you are, Bunje. +Sorry I had to slip it across Number One and the Soldier just now. +However, boys will be boys and the least said soonest mended. All is not +gold that glitters and a faint heart never won fair lady--pass the salt, +please." + +"'Fraid we're rather a noisy mess," said the Commander. "You don't get +much chance to sit and think beautiful thoughts when Pills is about. +Hope you'll get used to it." + +The India-rubber Man laughed. "I expect so," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WAR BABIES + +"Properly at ease.... Class, 'Shun! Left turn! Dismiss!" + +The dozen or so of flannel-dad Midshipmen composing the class sprang +stiffly to attention, turned forward, and made off briskly in the +direction of the hatchway. The India-rubber Man thrust his hands into +the pockets of his flannel trousers and strolled across the quarterdeck +to where the Officer of the Watch was standing. + +"Tweedledum," he said, elevating his nose and sniffing the keen morning +air, "I can smell bacon frying somewhere. So could my class: I could +see their mouths watering. You might send for the cook and tell him +not to do it." + +"You're a dirty bully, Bunje, you know," said the Officer of +the Watch reprovingly. "Fancy dragging those unhappy children +out of their innocent hammocks at this unearthly hour of the +morning to flap their legs and arms about and do 'Knees up!' and +'Double-arm-bend-and-stretch!'" He raised a gloved hand and rubbed his +blue nose. Ashore a powdering of snow lay on the distant hills; in the +East the sky was flushing with bars of orange and gold athwart the +tumbled clouds. An armed drifter, coming in from the open sea, stood +out against the light in strong relief. "Here's Mouldy Jakes coming +back from Night Patrol--I bet even he isn't as cold as I am." + +"Rot!" retorted the Physical Trainer. "Do _you_ good, Tweedledum, to +hop round a bit on a lovely morning like this!" + +"Hop round!" echoed the other. "Hop round!" He looked about him as if +searching for a weapon. The dew, which everywhere had frozen during +the night, was slowly thawing on the canvas covers of guns and +searchlights, dripping from shrouds and yards and aerials. + +"Lord alive!" continued the Watchkeeper. "Haven't I been hopping round +this perishing quarterdeck since four a.m. keeping the Morning Watch? +If Tweedledee doesn't come and relieve me soon I shall die of frostbite +and boredom." The India-rubber Man was moving towards the hatchway. +"And if you're going along to the bathroom, for pity's sake see there's +some hot water left that I can sit and thaw in." + +In the meanwhile the Midshipmen had descended to the cabin-flat where +their chests occupied most of the available deck space. Flushed and +breathless with exercise, the majority proceeded to divest themselves +of their flannels and, girt with towels, made off for the bathroom. +One, however, flung himself panting on to his chest, and sprawled +partly across his own and partly on his neighbour's. + +"I swear this is a bit thick!" he gasped. "I'm not used to this sort +of frightfulness." He waved his legs in the air. "I shall get heart +disease. Anguis pec--pec---- What's it called?" + +"Peccavi," prompted his neighbour, slipping out of his clothes and +donning a great-coat in lieu of a dressing-gown. "Otherwise 'The ruddy +'eart-burn.' Just move your greasy head off my till. I want to get at +my razor." + +"That's the worst of these 'new brooms'"--the victim of heart trouble +surveyed his legs anxiously--"I know I've lost a couple of stone since +this physical training fiend joined. I don't suppose my people will +know me when I go home." + +"Well, you aren't likely to be going home for some time to come," said +another, a seraphic-faced nudity contemplating his biceps in the small +looking-glass that adorned the inside of his chest, "so I shouldn't +worry. I say, I'm sweating up a deuce of an arm on me. Shouldn't +wonder if I pulled off the Grand Fleet Light-weights next month," he +added modestly, "if this sort of thing goes on. I just mention it in +case any of you are thinking of putting your names in." He turned from +the glass, laughing. "Hullo, Mally, going to have a shave, old thing?" + +"Yes, if I can get at my razor---- Oh, Bosh, get off my +chest--sprawling all over my gear!" + +"I'm in a state of acute physical exhaustion. I feel tender and giddy. +I _know_ all this foul exercise is bad for me early in the morning." +The speaker sat up and juggled dexterously with a cake of soap, a +sponge and a tooth-brush. "I'm getting rather good at this---- My +word, look at Mally's shaving outfit. One would think he was a sort of +Esau--'stead of only having to shave once a blooming week!" + +"Are you going to shave, Mally?" queried a voice across the flat. +"Because I'm not sure I shouldn't be better for a bit of a scrape +myself. Can I have a rub at your razor after you?" + +"You can have it after me if you swear not to skylark with it," replied +the owner. "Only, last time I lent it to you, you shaved your beastly +leg----" + +"Only for practice," admitted the petitioner, advancing with a finger +and thumb caressing his chin. + +"Well it blunted it, anyhow. Come on, I'm going to the bathroom now." + +The Gunroom bathroom was situated in another flat, reached via the +aft-deck. Here about this hour an intermittent stream of figures in +quaint _neglige_ passed and repassed to their toilets. Inside the +bathroom itself song and the splashing of water drowned all other +sounds. The owner of the enlarged biceps was seated, fakir-wise, +cross-legged in one of the shallow, circular baths in a corner, bailing +water over himself from an empty cigarette tin. + +"Harcourt, old thing," said the shaving enthusiast, who had filled a +bath and dragged it alongside his friend, "did you mean what you said +just now about the boxing show--are you going to put your name down for +the Light-weights?" + +The fakir stopped crooning a little song to himself and nodded. "Yes, +I'm rather keen on it as a matter of fact. Standish saw me scrapping +with Green the other night and sent for me afterwards and told me to +get fit. I'm going to have a shot at it, I think. Wouldn't you?" + +His friend tested the temperature of the water in his bath with his +toe, and got in. "Yes, rather," he replied, and hesitated. "I'm going +in for it too," he added. + +Harcourt rose and reached for his towel. "_Are_ you, Billy?" For a +moment his eyes travelled over the other's slim form. "What a rag! We +may draw each other--anyhow we shall have to scrap if we get into the +semi-finals. Billy, I believe you'd bash me!" He towelled himself +vigorously. + +The other shook his head. "You beat me at Dartmouth. But I'm going to +have a jolly good shot at it, cully!" He looked up with his face +covered with soap-suds and they laughed into each others' eyes. + + * * * * * + +Breakfast in the Gunroom was, to employ a transatlantic colloquialism, +_some_ breakfast. + +There was porridge to start with and then a bloater, followed by hashed +mutton and cold ham ("for them as likes it," the Messman would +say--which meant he pressed it on nobody) and marmalade: perhaps an +apple or two to wind up with to the everlasting honour of the Vegetable +Products Committee who supplied them gratis to the Fleet. Then pipes +and cigarettes appeared from lockers, and the temporarily-closed +flood-gates of conversation reopened. The Wireless Press Message was +discussed and two experts in military strategy proceeded to demonstrate +with the aid of two cruet-stands, a tea-spoon, and the Worcester Sauce, +the precise condition of affairs on the Western Front. "Mark you," +said one generously, "I'm not criticising either Haig or Joffre. But +it seems to me that we should have pushed _here_"--and upset the +Worcester Sauce. + +This mishap to the Loos salient was in process of being righted when +the door opened and a short, square-shouldered figure, with a +wind-reddened face and eyes of a dark, dangerous blue, entered the +mess. He came in stamping his feet and blowing on his hands, calling +loudly for breakfast the while. "My, there's a good fug in here," he +observed appreciatively, and proceeded to divest himself of a duffle +coat, and a pair of night glasses which were slung round his neck in a +leather case. He stumped across to the table, dragging his legs in +heavy leather sea-boots rather wearily. + +"Am I hungry?" he demanded, insinuating himself with some difficulty +between the long form and the table, and sitting down. "Oh, no! +Nothing to speak of. Cold? Not a bit: only frozen stiff. Any sleep +last night? Rather! Nearly ten minutes. Porridge, please, and pass +the brown sugar." The remainder of his messmates appeared disposed to +return to strategical discussion. "Did we have any fun last night?" +continued the speaker, raising his voice slightly. "Well, nothing to +speak of. Only downed a Fritz." + +"_Downed_ one?" roared the Mess, galvanised suddenly into rapt interest +in the new-comer and all his works. + +"Yep. We were Outer Night Patrol last night. Me and Mouldy Jakes. He +does make me smile, that official." A plateful of porridge proceeded +to pass rapidly to its last resting place. + +"He _might_ have taken me," said one of the others wistfully. "You +don't belong to his Division or his turret or anything." + +"It was my turn. You went last time. But you missed something, I can +tell you!" + +"What d'you mean," said the Sub over the top of his paper. "Just cough +up the details and let your beastly breakfast wait." + +The Night Patroller extracted the backbone from a bloater with swift +dexterity. "Well," he continued, "it was very dark last night and +foggy in patches: rum night. Very little wind and no sea. We were +right outside and the Engineer sent up to say he thought there was +something foul of the propeller. So we stopped and investigated with a +boathook. There was a lot of weed and stuff fouling us. We were +playing about with it _mit_ boathook for nearly a quarter-of-an-hour, +and suddenly old Mouldy Jakes put up his head and sniffed about a bit +and muttered 'Baccy.'" + +"He's got a nose like a hawk," said the Midshipman of that officer's +Division with a tinge of pride in his voice. + +The Mess perforce had to possess its soul in patience while the +raconteur swiftly disposed of the bloater. + +"So I sniffed too, and I could smell it quite plain. We were lying +stern to the wind; 'sides it wasn't decent baccy like ours, but sort of +Scorp stuff, so we knew it wasn't one of our fellows smoking. Hashed +mutton, please; and another cup of coffee. It was pitch dark and for a +moment we couldn't see a thing. Then, suddenly, right on top of us +came a submarine! She was on the surface and there was a fellow on the +conning tower and a couple of figures aft. She must have been smelling +about on the surface having a smoke and recharging her batteries." + +The remainder of the Gunroom had crowded round the speaker, some +kneeling on the form with their elbows among the debris of breakfast, +others sat on the edge of the table hugging their knees. + +"My word, Matt," said one, his eyes dancing, "I bet you got cold feet." + +"Cold feet!" snorted the hero of the moment. "There wasn't time for +cold feet. It was too sudden. They just grazed past us, going very +slow, and there was a devil of a bobbery. I fancy they thought they +were properly in the _consomme_. A trap or something. Anyhow the two +braves aft lost their heads and jumped overboard, and the bird in the +conning tower disappeared like a Jack-in-the-box--properly rattled." + +"What price old Mouldy?" asked the listeners. "Utterly unmoved, I +suppose! Lord, I'd love to have seen him!" + +"Oh, bored stiff by the whole performance, of course. Still he did +make one wild leap for the gun and got off a round at point-blank +range. Hit her just below the conning tower. She must have been in +diving trim, because she went down like a stone, bubbling like an empty +soda-water bottle." + +"What about the Huns in the water?" demanded the enthralled Clerk. + +"We could only find one. The other must have got mixed up with the +submarine's propeller. The one we picked up was nearly done and +awfully surprised because we gave him dry clothes and hot drinks and a +smoke, and didn't spit in his eye or anything of that sort. Said their +officers always told them we illtreated our prisoners. Aren't they +Nature's little Nobs?" + +There was a little silence, each one busy with his own thoughts. +Finally one broke the silence, voicing the opinion of the rest: + +"Well," he ejaculated, "some people have all the blinking luck. I've +done about twenty night patrols since I've been up here and never seen +anything 'cept a porpoise." + +The Night Patroller lit a cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke with the +air of a man who had earned it. "You were at Suvla Bay and the landing +from the _River Clyde_," he retorted. "You can't have _every_ ruddy +thing in life." + + * * * * * + +A fine day in Ultima Thule--they were rare--was an occasion for +thankfulness and rejoicing. Directly after luncheon the members of +Gunroom and Wardroom made their way on deck to bask in the sun and +smoke contemplative post-prandial pipes in the lee of the after +superstructure. Forward, in amidships, the band was playing a slow +waltz and fifty or so couples from among the ship's company were +solemnly revolving to the music with expressions of melancholy +enjoyment peculiar to such exercise. + +"It's make-and-mend this afternoon," said the Senior Midshipman, +tilting his cap over his eyes and lazily watching the antics of a gull +volplaning against the light wind. He sat on the deck with his back +against the superstructure and his hands clasped round his knees. + +"It's a topping day, too," added Malison from his vantage astride the +coir-hawser reel. "Too good to waste onboard. The footer ground's +bagged--let's have a picnic in one of the cutters. Have tea ashore, +an' fry bangers over a fire." + +The project found favour generally. "We might ask one or two of the +Wardroom," suggested Harcourt. "Some of the cheery ones; Standish and +Thorogood and the Doc, say." + +"_And_ old Jakes," supplemented the Midshipman of that officer's +Division jealously. "I'd like to ask him. He loves picnics." + +Mouldy Jakes was included in the invitation list by general consent. +His half-humorous, resigned air of chronic boredom had a peculiar +attraction for all the Midshipmen; in the case of the Midshipman of his +turret it amounted to idolatry. + +"Go an' ask 'em, Harcourt," said the Senior Midshipman. "You're the +Blue-eyed Boy with the Wardroom. I'll go and tackle the Commander for +the cutter." + +"Then Bosh and I will go and ginger-up the Messman," said another, "and +get a basket packed. What shall we have for tea?" + +"Sloe-gin," promptly responded a tall, pale Midshipman with a slightly +freckled nose and sandy hair. "Sloe-gin and bangers.[1] And get +strawberry jam: see the Messman doesn't try and palm off any of his +beastly gooseberry stuff like he did last time. What about bacon and +eggs, and some tins of cocoa and milk, and a cake and some sardines----" + +"Wonk," interrupted the caterer, "we're only going to have tea ashore. +We aren't going to camp out for the week-end." + +"I tell you what," said Mouldy Jake's patron, "I'll bring my line and +we'll catch pollack and fry _them_ for tea too." + +"Well, I'm going to shift," said Malison, and the Committee of Supply +broke up and passed down below. + +Half an hour later the cutter, manned and provisioned, with the skiff +in tow, hoisted her foresail and sheered off from the after gangway. +The India-rubber Man, as Senior Officer of the expedition, took the +helm and banished the Young Doctor into the bows, where, to judge by +the ecstatic shouts of merriment that floated aft, his peculiar form of +wit was much appreciated. Thorogood, at the main sheet, with an old +deerstalker on his head and a pipe in his mouth, led the chorus in the +sternsheets. Mouldy Jakes had usurped the skiff, and having satisfied +himself that he was required to take no further part in the navigation +of the expedition, made himself comfortable in the bottom of the boat +and blinked at the sky through puffs of smoke from his pipe. + +He was followed into this voluntary exile by the Midshipman of his +Division, one Morton, who sat in the bows contemplating him +affectionately. + +Precisely what it was that inspired this apparently one-sided +attachment was never very apparent. The almost passionate loyalty and +affections of youth are hardy plants, thriving abundantly on the +scantiest soil. + +For a while only the drowsy swish of the water past the bottom of the +boat, and snatches of merriment or song drifting aft from the cutter, +broke the silence in the skiff. Then Mouldy Jakes's companion +apparently tired of this silent communion. + +"Sir," he said, "would you like to fish?" + +"No," said Mouldy Jakes. + +His host proceeded to unwind his line. "Do you mind if I do?" he +enquired. + +"No," was the reply. + +The Midshipman watched his line in silence for a little while. "Do you +think you sank that submarine last night?" he asked presently. + +Mouldy Jakes closed his eyes and gave a grunt with an affirmative +intonation. + +"It must have been a topping show. Weren't you awfully bucked, sir?" + +Another grunt. + +"I suppose you didn't get a wink of sleep all night?" + +A vague confirmatory noise. + +"You must be jolly tired, sir. Wouldn't you like to sleep a bit now, +sir?" + +"Yes." + +"Right ho, sir. You can carry on and have a jolly good caulk. I'm +going to fish, and I'll call you when we get to the island where we're +going to land.... Is your head quite comfortable?" + +Silence reigned in the skiff. + +The cutter had passed beyond the outskirts of the Fleet, and the +decorum required of the occupants of a Service boat in such +surroundings no longer ruled their behaviour. They sang and shouted +for sheer joy of bellowing, full-lunged, across the untrammelled water. +No one whose life is not spent in the narrow confines of a man-of-war, +walking paths sternly ruled by Naval Discipline, can realise the +intoxicating effect of such an emancipation. The mysterious workings +of the Midshipman-mind found full play on these occasions, as they +tumbled about in the bottom of the boat in the unfettered enjoyment of +a whole-hearted "scrap." If you have ever seen young foxes at play, +buffeting each other, yelping with simulated anguish, nuzzling +endearments half savage and half in play, you have an idea of the +bottom of a cutter full of Midshipmen proceeding on a picnic. It was +an embodiment of youth triumphant, shouting with laughter at the Jest +of Life. + +"Where shall we go?" asked Standish, smiling, during a lull when the +crew sat panting and flushed with exertion, grinning at each other over +the tops of the thwarts. + +"Any blooming where," shouted Thorogood. "As long as it is out of +sight of the Fleet. I feel I've seen enough of the Silent Navy for an +hour or two." Then raising his voice he chanted: + +"_Put me upon an island where the girls are few..._" + +"Right," retorted the Indian-rubber Man. "We'll go round this little +headland. Ready about! Check the fore sheet! Come aft out of the +bows, Pills, you clown, unless you want us to miss stays." + +"I don't want to go to an island," cried the Surgeon plaintively, +"where the girls are few." He surveyed the heather-crowned islets +surrounding them on all sides, the lonely haunts of cormorants and +black-backed gulls. "I'm all for houris and sirens and whatnots----" + +The foresail swung across and knocked him into the bottom of the boat. + +"You frail Ulysses!" exclaimed Thorogood, as they set sail on the new +course. "You aren't to be trusted in these populous parts. We must +lash you to the mast!" + +"And stop his ears with cotton-wool," said a Midshipman whose +acquaintance with the classics was still a recent, if sketchy +acquisition. + +A party set off into the bows to put the proposal into immediate +execution, but the imminence of land and a shout from the helmsman +arrested them in their purpose: + +"Down foresail. Top up mainsail!" The cutter, with the skiff towing +peacefully astern, glided into a little bay where miniature cliffs, +some twenty feet in height, rose from a narrow shale-strewn beach. The +anchor plashed overboard. + +"_Here we are, here we are, here we are again!_" carolled the Surgeon +lustily. "Come alongside, skiff! The landing of the Lancashire +Fusiliers is about to commence under a withering fire!" + +A letter received that morning from a soldier brother who had taken +part in that epic of human gallantry had apparently inspired the Young +Doctor. He pointed ahead with a dramatic gesture at the cliffs. +"Yonder are the Turks! See, they fly, they fly!" A pair of agitated +cormorants, sunning themselves on the rocks, flew seaward with +outstretched necks. "Lead on, brave lads, and I will follow!" + +The skiff came bumping alongside, and Mouldy Jakes, galvanised into +wakefulness by the confusion and laughter, found himself inextricably +entangled in the fishing-line, holding a kettle that someone had thrust +upon him in one hand and a frying-pan in the other. Half a dozen +partly clad forms, followed by the Doctor, flung themselves headlong +into the skiff and made for the shore. The bows grated on the shingle +and they sprang out. + +"For drill purposes only," explained the Surgeon breathlessly, "we are +Turks!" + +Under his direction they proceeded to collect pebbles. "A withering +volley will accordingly be opened on the Lancashire Fusiliers." + +Despite a heavy fire of pebbles, the landing was ultimately effected; +the invaders abandoned their trousers and floundered gallantly through +the bullet-torn shallows. Ensued a complete rout of the Turks, who +were pursued inland across the heather with triumphant shouts and the +corpse of a seagull, found on the beach, hurled after them from the +point of a piece of driftwood. + +The evicted snipers eventually returned with their caps full of +plovers' eggs, to find a fire of bleached twigs blazing and sausages +frizzling in the frying-pan. They were handed mugs of hot tea. + +In the phraseology of chroniclers of Sunday-school treats, "ample +justice was done to the varied repast." Then it was discovered that +the tide was falling, and a hasty re-embarkation followed. + +Sails were hoisted, the anchor weighed, and the cutter, with the empty +skiff in tow, headed for the West, where the sun was already setting in +a great glory of gold. + +The brief warmth of a Northern spring day had passed, and, as they +rounded the promontory and the Fleet hove in sight once more, duffle +coats and mufflers were donned and a bottle of sloe-gin uncorked. + +"Mug-up!" cried the Sub. "Mug-up, and let's get 'appy and chatty." +They crowded together in the stern-sheets for warmth, and presently +Thorogood started "John Brown's Body Lies A-mouldering in the Grave," +without which no properly conducted picnic can come to a fitting +conclusion. The purple shadows deepened in the far-off valleys ashore, +and anon stole out across the water, enfolding the anchored Fleet into +the bosom of another night of a thousand vigils. + +It was dusk when they reached the outlying Cruisers, and nearly dark +when the first ship in the Battle Fleet hailed them. Then hail +answered hail as one Battleship after another rose towering above them +into the darkling sky, and one by one passed into silence astern. + +Silence also had fallen on the singers. Seen thus from an open +boat under the lowering wings of night, there was something +awe-inspiring--even to these who lived onboard them--in the stupendous +fighting outlines limned against the last of the light. Complete +darkness reigned on board, but once a dog barked, and the strains of an +accordion drifted across the water as reminders that each of these +menacing mysteries was the habitation of their fellow-men. A tiny +pin-point of light winked from a yard-arm near by to another pin-point +in the Cruiser line: Somebody was answering an invitation to dinner at +7.45 p.m., with many thanks; then, reminder of sterner things, a +searchlight leaped out spluttering over their heads, and swept to and +fro across the sky like the paint-brush of a giant. + +A half-drowsy Midshipman in the bows of the cutter watched the message +of hospitality blinking through space; he consulted the luminous dial +on his wrist. "H'm," he observed to his companion, "I thought it was +getting on for dinner-time. Funny how quickly one gets hungry again." + +A hail challenged them from the darkness, and a towering outline loomed +familiarly ahead. + +"Aye, aye!" shouted the voice of the India-rubber Man from the stern, +adding in lower tones, "Boathook up forward. Fore halliards in +hand...." + +"Home again!" said another voice in the darkness. "And so the long day +wears on..." + + * * * * * + +Dinner in the Gunroom was over. One by one the occupants became +engrossed in their wonted evening occupations and amusements. + +"Mordaunt," said the sandy-haired Midshipman, rising and opening the +gramophone, "would you like to hear George Robey?" + +The officer addressed, who was sitting at the table apparently in the +throes of literary composition, raised his head. "No," he replied, "I +wouldn't; I'm writing a letter. 'Sides I've heard that record at least +seven hundred and eighty-one times already." + +"Can't help it," retorted the musical enthusiast, winding the handle of +the instrument. "_I_ think he's perfectly priceless!" He set the +needle, stepped back a pace and stood beaming appreciatively into the +vociferous trumpet while the song blared forth. + +"Reminds me," said Harcourt, laying down a novel and rising from the +corner of the settee where he had curled himself, "I must write to my +young sister for her birthday. Lend me a bit of your notepaper, Billy." + +His friend complied with the request without raising his eyes. "How +d'you spell 'afford'?" he enquired. + +"Two f's," replied Harcourt. "'Least I think so. Can I have a dip at +your ink?" + +"I thought it was two, but it doesn't look right, somehow." The two +pens scratched in unison. + +Matthews, the Midshipman of the previous Night Patrol, had stretched +himself on an adjacent settee and fallen asleep immediately after +dinner. + +Lettigne, otherwise known as "Bosh," amused himself by juggling with a +banana, two oranges and a walnut, relics of his dessert. His +performance was being lazily watched by the Sub from the depths of the +arm-chair which he had drawn as near to the glowing stove as the heat +would allow. It presently attracted the notice of two other Midshipmen +who had finished a game of picquet and were casting about them for a +fresh distraction. This conversion of edible objects into juggling +paraphernalia presently moved one to protest. + +"Why don't you eat that banana, Bosh, instead of chucking it about?" he +enquired. + +"'Cause I can't," said the exponent of legerdemain. + +"Why not?" queried the other. + +"Too full already," was the graceful response. "I'm just +waiting--waiting till the clouds roll by, so to speak." + +The two interlocutors eyed each other speculatively. + +"Did you have any dessert?" asked one. + +"No," was the sorrowful reply. "My extra-bill's up." + +Thereupon they rose together and fell straightway upon the juggler. An +equal division of the spoil was made while they sat upon his prostrate +form, and eaten to the accompaniment of searching prods into their +victim's anatomy. + +"Bosh, you ought to be jolly grateful to us, really. You'd probably +have appendicitis if we let you eat all this--phew! Mally, just feel +here.... Isn't he a hog! ..." + +"Just like a blooming drum," replied the other, prodding judicially. + +Over their heads the tireless voice of the gramophone trumpeted forth +its song. The Sub who had kept the Middle Watch the night before, +slept the sleep of the tired just. The door opened and a Junior +Midshipman entered hot-foot. "Letters," he shouted. "Any letters to +be censored? The mail's closing tomorrow morning." + +"Yes," replied the two correspondents at the table, simultaneously +bringing their letters to a close. + +"Hurry up, then," said the messenger. "The Padre's waiting to censor +them. He sent me along to see if there were any more." + +Mordaunt folded his letter and placed it in an envelope. "Got a stamp, +Harcourt? I've run out." He extended a penny. + +Harcourt looked up, pen in mouth, thumping his wet sheet with the +blotting paper. "In my locker--I'll get you one in a second." + +"Oh, do buck up," wailed the messenger. "I want to turn in, an' the +Padre's waiting." + +"All right," retorted Harcourt. He rose to his feet. "I forgot: +little boys lose their roses if they don't get to bed early. Billy, +shove that letter in an envelope for me, to save time, while I get the +stamp." His friend complied with the request and picked up his pen to +address his own epistle. As he did so the prostrate juggler, with a +sudden, spasmodic recrudescence of energy, flung his two assailants off +him and struggled to a sitting position. They were on him again like +wolves, but as they bore him prostrate to the deck he clutched wildly +at a corner of the table-cloth. + +The next moment the conflict was inextricably involved with the +table-cloth, letters, note-paper, envelopes and ink descending upon the +combatants in a cascade. + +"You clumsy owls," roared Harcourt, returning from his locker. "Now, +where's my letter...." He searched among the debris. + +"I say, do buck up," wailed the sleepy voice on the threshold. + +"Buck up?" echoed Harcourt. "Buck up! How the devil can I buck +up--ah, here we are." He picked up an envelope, glanced carelessly +under the still open flap and sat down to address it. "Got yours, +Billy? Here's the stamp." + +"Yes," replied the other, grovelling in the darkness under the table. +"This is it." He reappeared with a letter in his hand. + +"The Padre----" again began the impatient envoy. + +"All right--all right!" Mordaunt hurriedly affixed the stamp and +addressed the envelope without looking at the contents. "Here you +are," he said, holding it out. The messenger departed hastily. + +The bang of the door awoke the Sub. + +"Now, then," he said. "Enough of this. Switch off that cursed +gramophone. Get up off the deck. Mop that ink up and square off the +table-cloth. Knock off scrapping, you three hooligans." + +The hooligans obeyed reluctantly, and sat panting and dishevelled on +the settee. By degrees the Mess resumed its tranquillity. + +Harcourt stretched his slim form and yawned sleepily. "I'm going to +turn in now. And to-morrow know all men that I start training." + +"That's right," said Lettigne, still panting and adjusting his +disordered garments. "Nothing like being really fit--ready to go +anywhere an' do anything--that's my motto." He rang the bell and +ordered a bottle of ginger beer. + + + +[1] Tinned sausages. A delicacy peculiar to Gunrooms of the Fleet. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +UNCLE BILL + +Sir William Thorogood rose from the table on which lay a confusion of +papers, drawings and charts. He walked across the cabin to the tiled +fireplace, selected a cigar from his case, and lit it with precise care. + +"You're right," he said. "You've put your finger on the weak spot. No +one in Whitehall saw it, and they're seamen. I didn't see it, and--and +I'm called a scientist." He made an imperceptible inclination of his +head towards his companion as if to convey a compliment. + +The other occupant of the broad cabin smiled a little grimly. "It's a +question of actual experience," he said. "Experience of this particular +form of warfare, and the means of meeting it hitherto at our disposal." + +He pencilled some figures on a piece of paper and studied them with +knitted brows. + +"It's a pity," he said presently. "You're on the brink of the most +stupendous discovery of our day. The submarine was a wonderful +invention, and there's no limit to the possibilities of its +development--or abuse. Until an effective counter can be devised it +remains a very terrible menace to civilisation in the hands of an +unscrupulous belligerent." + +Sir William smoked in silence. His thin, aristocratic face, and his +level grey eyes, had a look of fatigue. "I was particularly glad to +avail myself of your invitation," he said. "I wanted practical +experience of the conditions in the North Sea--weather and visibility. +And, later on, in the North Atlantic. I'm going over to Ireland next +month." His tired eyes followed the blue smoke curling upwards. "Of +course, the experiments we tried down South answered all right for short +distances. That's what rather deceived us. They were harbour trials, no +more. We want something more exhaustive than that. And, as you say, +there's the pull of the tides to consider.... Confound the tide!" + +His companion smiled. "That's what Canute said. Or words to that +effect. But it didn't help matters much." + +"Quite," replied Sir William dryly. "Well, I should like to take a +patrol boat and one of our submarines for a day or two and test that new +theory--to-morrow if I may. And--while I think of it--I have promised a +young nephew of mine to dine with him to-night in his ship, if it in no +way inconveniences you?" + +The other nodded, and, reaching out his hand, pressed the button of an +electric bell beside his desk. + + * * * * * + +It was the hour preceding dinner, and the majority of the members of the +Wardroom had congregated in the ante-room to discuss sherry and the day's +affairs before descending to their cabins to change. It was a cheerful +gathering, as the hour and the place betokened, and the usual mild chaff +flowed to and fro in its mysteriously appointed channels. + +In Naval communities, as in most others where men are segregated from +wider intercourse by a common mode of life and purpose, each one occupies +the place designed for him by Destiny for the smooth working of the +whole. These types are peculiar to no trade or profession. A gathering +of farmers or elders of the Church, or even Christy Minstrels, would, if +thrown together for a sufficient period of time, and utterly dependent on +one another for daily intercourse, fall into the places allotted to each +by temperament and heredity. Each little community would own a wit and a +butt; the sentimentalist and the cynic. The churl by nature would appear +through some veneer of manner, if only to bring into relief the finer +qualities of his fellows; lastly, and most surely, one other would jingle +a merciful cap and bells, and mingle motley with the rest. + +The First Lieutenant had just come down from the upper-deck, and stood +warming his hands by the fire. Big-boned, blue-eyed, health and vitality +seemed to radiate from his kindly, forceful personality. Of all the +officers on board "Jimmy the One" was, with perhaps the exception of the +Captain, most beloved by the men. A seaman to the fingertips, slow to +wrath and clean of speech, he had the knack of getting the last ounce out +of tired men without driving or raising his voice. Working cables on the +forecastle in the cold and snowy darkness, when men's faculties grow +torpid with cold, and their safety among the grinding cables depends more +upon the alert supervision of the First Lieutenant than the mere instinct +for self-preservation, "Jimmy the One" was credited with powers allied to +those of the high Gods. "'Tween decks," where the comfort and +cleanliness of close on eleven hundred men was mainly his affair, they +abused, loved and feared him with whole-hearted affection. His large +football-damaged nose smelt out dirt as a Zulu witch-doctor smells out +magic. The majority of the vast ship's company--seamen ratings, at all +events--he knew by name. He also presided over certain of the lower-deck +amusements, and, at the bi-weekly cinema shows, studied their tastes in +the matter of Charlie Chaplin and the Wild West with the discrimination +of a lover choosing flowers for his mistress. + +His own personal amusements were few. He admitted possessing three books +which he read and re-read in rotation: "Peter Simple," "Alice in +Wonderland," and a more recent discovery, Owen Wister's "Virginian." A +widowed mother in a Yorkshire dower house was the only relative he was +ever heard to refer to, and for her benefit every Sunday afternoon he sat +down for an hour, as he had since schooldays, and wrote a boyish, +detailed chronicle of his doings during the past week. + +The two watch-keeping Lieutenants sat one on each arm of the deep-seated +chesterfield opposite the fire. They were the Inseparables of the Mess, +knit together in that curious blend of antagonistic and sympathetic +traits of character which binds young men in an austere affection passing +the love of woman. One was short and stout, the other tall and lean; an +illustration in the First Lieutenant's edition of "Alice in Wonderland" +supplied them with their nicknames, which they accepted from the first +without criticism or demur. + +The Fleet Surgeon sat between them cleaning a pipe with a collection of +seagull's feather gathered for the purpose on the golf links ashore. He +was thin, a grey-haired, silent man. His face, in repose, was that of a +deliberate thinker whose thoughts had not led him to an entirely happy +goal. Yet his smile when amused had a quality of gratitude to the +jester, not altogether without pathos. He had a slightly cynical +demeanour, a bitter tongue, and a curiously sympathetic, almost tender +manner with the sick. He was professedly a fierce woman-hater, and when +ashore passed children quickly with averted eyes. + +Of a different type was the Paymaster, sunny as a schoolboy, +irresponsible in leisure hours as the youngest member of the Mess. +Perhaps there had been a time when he had not found life an altogether +laughing matter. He had an invalid wife; his means were small, and most +of his life had been spent at sea. But misfortune seemed to have but +tossed a challenge to his unquenchable optimism and faith in the mercy of +God. He had picked up the gage with a smile, flung it back with a laugh, +and with drawn blade joined the gallant band of those who strive +eternally to defend the beleaguered Citadel of Human Happiness. + +Others came and went among the gathering; the Engineer Commander, +fiercely bearded and moustached, who cherished an inexplicable belief +that a studied soldierly accent and bearing helped him in his path +through life. The Major, clean-shaven and philosophic; the Gunnery +Lieutenant, preoccupied with his vast responsibilities, a +seaman-scientist with a reputation in the football-field. The Torpedo +Lieutenant, quiet, gentle-mannered, fastidious in his dress and not given +to overmuch speech. The Engineer-Lieutenant, whose outlook on life +alternated between moods of fierce hilarity and brooding melancholy, +according to the tenour of a correspondence with a distracting Red Cross +nursing sister exposed to the perils of caring for good-looking military +officers in the plains of Flanders. Lastly, the Captain of Marines; he +was the musician of the Mess, much in demand at sing-songs; editor, +moreover, of the Wardroom magazine, a periodical whose humour was of a +turn mercifully obscure to maiden aunts. A first-class cricketer and +racquet-player, a student of human nature with a tolerance for the +failings of others that suggested a strain of Latin blood, and a Marine +with an almost passionate pride in the great traditions of his Corps. + +Such were among the occupants of the anteroom when Thorogood entered the +crowded room and crossed over to the door leading to the Wardroom where +the Marine waiters were laying the table. + +"Tell the Messman I've got a guest to dinner," said Thorogood to the +Corporal of the Wardroom servants. + +The Young Doctor, who was leaning against the overmantel of the stove +warming himself, crossed over to Thorogood with an expression of +portentous solemnity on his face. + +"James," he said, and laid a hand on the other's shoulder, "before you +get busy on the wassail-bowl, my lad, I should like to remind you that +the boat's crew will commence training for the Regatta at 7 A.M. +to-morrow. No fatheads wanted. Enough said." + +The Gunnery Lieutenant looked up from a game of draughts with Double-O +Gerrard, the Assistant Paymaster. "Who've you got dining with you, +Jimmy?" he asked. The introduction of "new blood" into a Mess, even for +the evening, is generally a matter of interest to the inmates. + +"An old uncle of mine," was the reply. "He signalled from the Flagship +that he was coming to dinner. I don't know what he's doing up here." + +Mouldy Jakes, who was sitting on an arm of the sofa watching the game of +draughts, looked across at Thorogood. + +"Sir William?" he asked. "Is that man of mystery up here? What's he up +to?" + +"Don't know," replied Thorogood. "Dirty work, I suppose." + +The Young Doctor assumed an expression of rapture. "What!" he cried, "my +old college chum Sir William!" Then with a swift change of mimicry he +bent into a senile pose with nodding head and shaking fingers, mumbling +at his lips: + +"Ah! Ah!" he wheezed, "how time flies! I mind the day when he and I +were lads together--hee-hee--brave lads ... Eton and Christ Church +together----" He broke off into a decrepit chuckle. + +"Dry up, Pills, you ass," cried the Torpedo Lieutenant, laughing. "You +aren't a bit funny--in fact, I'm not sure you aren't rather bad form." + +"Bad form?" echoed the First Lieutenant. "Let us see now. What's the +penalty for bad form, Pay? I've forgotten." + +"To be devoured by lions," said the Paymaster calmly, with an eye on the +sofa where Garm, the bull-terrier, sprawled as usual. + +"That's right," said the First Lieutenant, "so it is: devoured of lions." + +The next moment the Doctor was tripped up into the depths of the sofa, +the bull-terrier, thus rudely awakened from slumber, dumped on top of +him, and his struggles stifled by the bodies of the Paymaster and First +Lieutenant. "Eat him, Garm--Hi! good beastie! Chew his nose, lick his +collar...!" + +The great bull-terrier, accustomed to being the instrument of such +summary execution, entered into the game with zest, and sprawling across +the Surgeon's chest with one massive paw on his face, nuzzled and +slavered in an abandonment of affectionate gusto. + +"Oh!--oh!--oh!--pah!--phew!" The victim writhed and spluttered protests. +"Dry up--Garm, you great donkey! Piff!--you're--smothering--me--beast! +Ugh! my collar--clean--no offence--Jimmy, I 'pologise--lemme get up ... +Faugh!" + +In the midst of the uproar the door opened and the Midshipman of the +Watch appeared. + +"Mr. Thorogood, sir," he called. "Someone to see you." + +The group on the sofa broke up. The Surgeon sat up panting and wiping +his face. The dog jumped to the deck and accompanied Thorogood across to +the door, wagging a friendly tail. + +Sir William Thorogood, hat in hand, with his cloak over his arm, entered +the ante-room. His eyeglass fell from his eye. + +"Hullo, Uncle Bill," exclaimed his nephew. "You're early--nice and +early--we've just started training for the Regatta and we're straffing +the coxswain by way of a start! Er--Staff Surgeon Tucker, Sir William +Thorogood." + +The Surgeon advanced with a rather embarrassed grin and shook hands with +the eminent scientist. + +"I fancy I knew your father once," said the latter smiling. "He held the +chair of Comparative Anatomy--we were at college together--bless me!--a +good many years ago now." He stood smiling down at Pills from his lean +height. + +The Mess chortled at the Surgeon's discomfiture. Thorogood turned to the +Commander who had just then entered. "This is Commander Hornby," he +said, and introduced the two men. "There's Mouldy--you remember him?" +Mouldy Jakes came over and shook hands gravely. "And this is the rest of +the Mess." He included the remainder with a wave of his hand, and Sir +William acknowledged the informal general introduction with the grave, +smiling self-possession of the perfectly bred Englishman. + +"Now," said his nephew, "what about a cocktail, Uncle Bill?" + +"Yes," said Mouldy Jakes, sharing with his friend the responsibility of +entertaining this eminent guest. "We've got rather a good brand--fizzy +ones. Do you a power of good, sir!" + +Sir William laughed. "Thank you," he said, "but fizzy cocktails and I +came to the parting of the ways more years ago than I care to remember. +Perhaps I may be allowed to join you in a glass of sherry....?" + +"Rather," said his host, and gave the order. "Well, Uncle Bill," he +said, "what brings you up to Ultima Thule and on board the Flagship?" + +The Scientist helped himself to a biscuit from the tray on a little table +near the door. "I'm staying with--with an old friend for a few days, for +a change of air," he said. He took the proffered glass of sherry and +sipped it appreciatively. "May I congratulate you on your excellent +sherry?" + +"It's not bad," said Mouldy Jakes. "I'm the wine caterer," he added +modestly. + +At this juncture dinner was announced and they passed through into the +long Wardroom. + +Shaded electric lights hung down above the table that traversed the +length of the Mess. A number of ornamental pieces of silver and trophies +adorned the centre of the table and winked and glistened against the dark +mahogany. Slips of white napery ran down on either side, on which the +glasses, silver and cutlery lay. They took their places, the +presidential hammer tapped, and the Chaplain, rising, offered brief +thanks. Immediately after a buzz of conversation broke out generally. + +Sir William, on the right of the President, indicated the glittering +trophies. "I see you keep your plate on board," he said, smiling, "even +in war." + +The Commander laughed. "Well," he said, "all these things we actually +won ourselves. There's a lot more stuff--the things that belong to the +ship itself, one commission as much as another, and those we landed. +Then, if we get sunk, successive ships bearing our name will carry them, +you see ... yes, half a glass, please. But all you see here we won at +battle practice just before the war, boat-racing and so on.... +Incidentally we hope to win the Squadron Regatta this year. That big one +over there was from the passengers of a burning ship we rescued.... If +we're sunk they may as well go down with us; at least, that's how we look +at it. It is only in keeping with our motto, after all." + +He pushed across a silver menu-holder, bearing the ship's crest and motto +on a scroll beneath it. The guest picked it up and examined it. "What +we hold we hold," he read. "Yes, I see. It's not a bad interpretation." + +Sir William looked round the table at the laughing, animated faces--many +of them little more than boys seen through the long perspective of his +own years. + +The Chaplain was having "his leg hauled." The joke was obscure, and +concerned an episode of bygone days which appeared to be within the +intimate recollection of at least half the number seated round the table. + +The other half were demanding enlightenment, and in the laughter and +friendly mischief on certain faces Sir William read an affectionate, +mysterious freemasonry apparently shared by all. + +For a moment he leaned back, contemplating in imagination the scores of +great ships surrounding them on all sides, invisible in the night: in +each Wardroom there was doubtless a similar cheerful gathering beneath +the shaded electric lights. Musing thus, glancing from face to face, and +listening, half uncomprehending, to the laughing jargon, he glimpsed for +an instant the indefinable Spirit of the Fleet. Each of these +communities, separated by steel and darkness from the other, shared it. +It stretched back into a past of unforgotten memories, linking one and +all in a brotherhood that compassed the waters of the earth, and bore +their traditions with unfailing hands across the hazard of the future. + +The meal drew to a close and the decanters went slowly round. Mouldy +Jakes, from his seat opposite the President, was attempting to catch Sir +William's eye. His nephew intercepted and interpreted the +gesticulations. "Mouldy's recommending the Madeira, Uncle Bill," said +his nephew; "he evidently feels that his reputation as wine caterer is at +stake after your comments on the sherry!" + +Sir William laughed and filled his glass accordingly. + +Obedient to a signal conveyed to the Bandmaster by a Marine waiter, the +band in the flat outside came suddenly to a stop. + +Down came the President's hammer, and the name of the King preceded the +raising of glasses. Then the violins outside resumed their whimpering +melody; coffee followed a second circulation of the decanters, and +presently the smoke of cigars and cigarettes began to eddy across the +polished mahogany. + +A few minutes later the Master-at-Arms entered the Wardroom, and stepping +up to the Commander's chair, reported something in a low voice. The +Commander turned sideways to the guest of the evening. "Will you excuse +me if I leave you?" he said. "I have to go the rounds." And rising from +the table left a gap at Sir William's side. Intimate conversation +between uncle and nephew, hitherto impracticable, was now possible. + +"How's Cecily, Uncle Bill?" asked James. "Which reminds me," he added, +"that I met Armitage when I was coming back from leave." + +Sir William removed his cigar and contemplated the pale ash with +inscrutable eyes. + +"I heard from Armitage," he replied. "Did you by any chance meet his +companion on the journey up?" + +James shook his head. "No, I only saw Armitage for a moment, and that +was in the darkness at the rail-head. But you haven't told me how Cecily +is." + +"She wants to go to America," replied his uncle. + +"America!" echoed his nephew. "Why?" + +"To stay with an old school friend. It seems she wants to go over for a +Newport season." + +"But," said James and paused, "are you going to let her go, Uncle Bill?" + +"She says she's going," was her guardian's reply. + +James smoked in silence for a moment. + +"But Newport," he said. "Where on earth did Cecily develop a taste for +that sort of life?" + +"Read about it in a book, I fancy," said Sir William. + +"But it isn't the sort of thing I can imagine appealing to Cecily in the +least," objected her cousin. "I know what Cecily likes--pottering about +in old tweeds with a dog, sketching and fishing. I can't see her at +Bailey's Beach surf-bathing with millionaires in the family diamonds. +Besides, what about her war work--her Hospital Supply Depot?" + +Sir William made no answer. + +"Is she unhappy about anything?" pursued James. "Has Armitage been +making love to her? I know he used to follow her about like a sick dog, +but I didn't know it upset her." + +Sir William smiled. "No," he said, "I shouldn't have said so either. +But I don't claim any profound insight into the feminine mind. All I +know is that she looks rather pale, and she has grown uncommonly quiet. +At times she has restless moods of rather forced gaiety. But the reason +for it all, I'm afraid, is beyond me." + +"Do you remember d'Auvergne?" asked his nephew suddenly. "Podgie +d'Auvergne. He spent a summer leave with us once, and he used to come up +to town a good deal from Whale Island when he was there. Do you think +Cecily is in love with him?" + +"Bless me," said Sir William helplessly, "I don't know. I never remember +her saying so. Do you think that would account for--for her present +mood? Women are such curious beings----" + +"I know he's fearfully gone on her," said James, "but he lost a foot +early in the war. He hasn't been near her since." + +"Why not?" asked the Scientist vaguely. + +"Oh, because--because he's fearfully sensitive about it. And he's +frightfully in love with her. You see, a thing like that tells +enormously when a fellow's in love." + +"Does it?" enquired Sir William. "Well, granted that your theory is +correct, I fail to see what I am to do. I can't kidnap this young man +and carry him to my house like the alien visitor you once brought to +disturb my peaceful slumbers." + +"Ah," said James, "Crabpots!" He chuckled retrospectively. + +"If he has really developed a neurotic view of his injury, as you imply," +continued the older man, "it's no use my inviting him, because he would +only refuse to come." + +"You'll have to work it somehow," replied his nephew. "Sea voyages +aren't safe enough just now--we'd never forgive ourselves if we let +Cecily go and anything happened to her--or Podgie either," he added +grimly. + +By twos and threes the members of the Mess had risen from the table and +drifted into the ante-room to play bridge, or to their cabins, there to +write letters, read, or occupy themselves in wood-carving and kindred +pursuits. At a small table in the comer of the long Mess the officers of +the Second Dog Watch had finished a belated meal, and were yarning in low +voices over their port. + +James and his uncle alone remained seated at the long table. + +"Well," said the former, "let's move on, Uncle Bill. Would you like a +rubber of bridge?" + +"I can play bridge in London," replied his guest, rising. "No, Jim, I +think I'd like to take this opportunity of paying a visit to the Gunroom. +When you are my age you'll find a peculiar fascination about youth and +its affairs. Do you think they'd object to my intrusion?" + +"They'd be awfully bucked," said James. "Come along." As they passed +out of the door they met the Marine postman entering with his arms full +of letters and papers. "Hullo," he continued, "here's the mail--you'll +see a Gunroom devouring its letters: rather like a visit to the Zoo about +feeding-time!" + +They came to the door of the Gunroom, and James, opening it, motioned his +guest to enter. One end of the table resembled a bee swarm: a babel of +voices sounded as those nearest the pile of letters shouted the names of +the addressees and tossed the missives back over their heads. + +The two men stood smiling and unobserved in the doorway until the +distribution was complete. Then they were seen, and the Sub advanced to +extend the hospitality of his realm. + +"Kedgeree," said James, "this is my uncle. He's getting bored with the +Wardroom and I've brought him along here." The Sub laughingly shook +hands, and the inmates in his immediate vicinity gathered round with the +polite air of a community of whom something startling was expected. + +"Won't you sit down, sir?" asked one, drawing forward the battered wicker +arm-chair. "It's all right as long as you don't lean back--but if you do +we must prop it against the table." He suited the action to the words, +and the guest sat down rather gingerly. + +"Won't you have something to drink?" queried Kedgeree. "Whisky and soda +or something?" + +Sir William smilingly declined. + +"Would you care to hear the gramophone?" queried the champion of that +particular form of entertainment. "We've got some perfectly priceless +George Robey ones--have you ever heard 'What there was, was Good?'" He +moved towards the instrument. + +"Never," said Sir William, taking advantage of the support afforded by +the table and leaning back, "but nothing would give me greater pleasure." + +The disk had no sooner commenced to revolve when Lettigne advanced with a +soda-water bottle, a corkscrew and half a lemon, collected at random from +the sideboard. + +"I don't know if you like watching a bit of juggling," he said shyly, and +began to throw into the air and catch his miscellany, while the trumpet +of the gramophone proclaimed that "What there was, was Good," in +stentorian, brazen shouts. + +Sir William screwed his eyeglass tighter into his eye. "Remarkable!" he +said warmly. "A remarkably deft performance! Capital! Capital!" + +The Gunroom eyed one another anxiously. It was only a question of +moments before the perspiring Bosh smashed something; the gramophone +record was palpably cracked; their powers of entertainment were rapidly +reaching their climax. Then came a diversion. The door opened and the +Midshipman of the Watch entered. + +"The Flagship's barge has called for you, sir," he said. + +The gramophone stopped as if by magic, and the overheated juggler caught +and retained the soda-water bottle, the corkscrew and the half lemon with +a gasp of relief. + +Sir William rose regretfully and held out his hand. "I have to thank you +all for a very delightful quarter of an hour," he said, smiling, and took +his departure amid polite murmurs of farewell, followed by James. Proof +of his appreciation of the entertainment reached them a week later in the +form of an enormous plum cake, and was followed thereafter at regular +intervals by similar bounty. + +Lettigne sat down and wiped his forehead. "Phew!" he said when the door +had closed behind the visitors. "Who was that old comic? I didn't catch +his name." + +"Sir William Thorogood," replied another. "He's full of grey-matter." +He tapped his forehead, and stepping across to the common bookshelf +indicated the back of a text book on advanced mechanics. "That's one of +his little efforts," he said. + +Lettigne followed the other's finger. "Good night!" he ejaculated. +"Have I been giving a display of my unequalled talents for the benefit of +the man who has caused me more sleepless nights than Euclid himself? +Here is poor old George Robey been shouting himself hoarse too----" + +"And I haven't even looked at my mail yet," said Harcourt, drawing an +unopened letter from his pocket. He slit the envelope and sat down in +the vacated arm-chair. It was from his sister at school in Eastbourne, +and enclosed another written in a vaguely familiar hand. Boy like he +read the enclosure first: + + +DEAR FATHER [it ran],--I have just put my name down for the boxing +championship, and I'll do my best to win, because I know how awfully keen +you are. All the same, I think it's a pity you took up that bet with +Harcourt's father at the club. He probably can afford to lose and you +can't. There are lots of things that Mother wants that ten pounds would +buy. Besides, Harcourt is my best friend, and if we both get into the +finals it would be beastly and like fighting for money. I wish you +hadn't told me. I must end now. With love to Mother and Dick. In +haste. Your loving son, + +BILLY. + + +Harcourt, grown suddenly rather pale, picked up his sister's letter and +read with puzzled brows: + + +DEAR HARRY,--When I opened your last letter I found the enclosed. It had +evidently been put in by mistake, because the envelope was in your +handwriting. I am sending it back.... + + +Harcourt pursed up his lips into a whistling shape and refolded the +enclosure. It was in Mordaunt's handwriting. But how did it get into +the envelope he himself had addressed to his sister? + +At that moment Mordaunt came across the mess holding out a letter. + +"Harcourt," he said, "my father has just sent me this letter. Isn't it +your handwriting?" + +Harcourt took the sheet of paper and glanced at it. "Yes," he said, +"it's one I wrote to my sister for her birthday. And here's one that she +has just sent back to me. Is it yours by any chance?" + +He carelessly extended the folded missive, and summoning all his +self-possession, looked his friend in the eyes and smiled wanly. "I've +only just read my sister's letter," he went on. "She seemed rather +puzzled..." + +Mordaunt took the proffered letter and nodded. "Yes," he said, "it's +mine." He, too, paled a little. "I think I know what's happened. Do +you remember that scrap just as we were finishing our letters the other +night? Bosh pulled the table-cloth down and capsized everything. Our +letters got mixed up, and we must have addressed each other's envelopes." + +He stood turning the letter to his father over and over in his fingers. + +"Well," said Harcourt reassuringly, "it doesn't matter much, old thing, +does it? I'm just going to put this in another envelope and send it off +to my sister, with a note to explain. There's no harm done! I don't +suppose your letter was a matter of vast importance either, was it, +Billy?" He spoke lightly, in a tone of amused indifference, and turned +to the locker where he kept his writing materials. + +The other walked over to the stove, slowly tearing his letter into pieces. + +"No," he said. "Oh, no ... none at all." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WET BOBS + +A flurry of sleet came out of the east where a broad band of light was +slowly widening into day. + +The tarpaulin cover to the after hatchway was drawn aside as if by a +cautious hand, and the rather sleepy countenance of the Young Doctor +peered out into the dawning. An expression of profound distaste spread +over it, and its owner emerged to the quarterdeck. There he stood +shivering, looking about him as if he found the universe at this hour a +grossly over-rated place. After a few minutes' contemplation of it +thus, he turned up the collar of his great coat, pulled his cap down +until it gave him the appearance of a sort of Naval "Artful Dodger," +and walked gloomily to the port gangway. The Officer of the Watch, who +was partaking of hot cocoa in the shelter of the after superstructure, +sighted this forlorn object. + +"Morning, Pills!" he shouted. "She's called away: won't be long now." +He wiped his mouth and came across the deck to where the other was +standing. "Fine morning for a pull," he observed, throwing his nose +into the air and sniffing like a pointer. "Smell the heather? Lor'! +it does me good to see all you young fellow-me-lads turning up here +bright and early with the roses in your cheeks." + +The Young Doctor turned a gamboge-tinted eye on the speaker. + +"Dry up," he said acidly. + +The Officer of the Watch was moved to unseemly mirth. "Where's your +crew, Pills? I don't like to see this hanging-on-to-the-slack the +first morning of the training season. You're too easy going for a cox, +by a long chalk, my lad. You ought to be going round their cabins now +with a wet sponge, shouting 'Wet Bobs!' and 'Tally Ho!' and the rest of +it." + +"Dry up!" was the reply. + +"An even temper, boundless tact, a firm manner and an extensive +vocabulary--those were the essentials of the cox of a racing boat when +_I_ was a lad at College. Why did they make you cox, Pills?" + +"'Cos I'm light," retorted the Doctor. "'Cos I'm a damn fool," he +added with a sudden access of bitterness. "Look here, Tweedledee, what +about this bloomin' boat? Here I've been standing for the last five +minutes--ah, there she is." + +He gazed distastefully at the lower boom, where two members of the +galley's crew were casting off the painter that secured the boat to the +Jacob's ladder. + +"Now, then," said a loud and cheerful voice at their elbows, "where's +this boat we've been hearing such a lot about?" A tall, athletic +figure in football shorts and swathed about with many sweaters, with a +bright red cushion under his arm, stood gazing in the direction of the +lower boom. "Well, I'm blowed," he said, "not alongside _yet_? You're +a nice person, Pills, to leave the organisation of a racing boat's crew +to." He looked round the quarterdeck. "Where're all the others? Lazy +hogs! Here we are with the sun half over the foreyard and the boat not +even manned." + +The Surgeon eyed him severely. "You're none too smart on it yourself, +Bunje. Where's Thorogood? Where's Number One? Where's Gerrard? +Where's--ah, now they're coming." + +A sleepy-eyed procession, athletically clad, but not otherwise +conveying an impression of vast enthusiasm in the venture, trooped up +the hatchway and congregated in a shivering group at the gangway. + +"When I go away pulling," said the First Lieutenant, apparently +addressing a watchful-eyed gull volplaning past with outstretched +wings, "when I go away pulling, I like to get straight into the boat, +shove off and start right in. It's this hanging about----" + +"It's Tweedledee's fault," protested the coxswain bitterly. "I wrote +it down last night on the slate. He's too busy guzzling cocoa to +attend to his job, that's the truth of the matter. Are we all here +now, anyway...?" He scanned the faces of his little band of heroes. +"Derreck!" he said suddenly. "Now, where's Derreck? Really, this is +just about the pink limit. How could anyone----" + +"Hullo, hullo, hullo!" The form of the Engineer Lieutenant emerged +from the superstructure and came skipping towards them. "Sorry, +everybody! Am I late? My perishing servant forgot to call me. And +then I couldn't find my little short pants. Tweedledee, I've just been +having a lap at your cocoa: the Quartermaster said it was getting cold." + +"Not mine," replied the Officer of the Watch. "I've finished mine. +You've probably drunk the Commander's. He put it down for a minute----" + +The face of the Engineer Lieutenant grew suddenly anxious. "Well, what +about getting into the boat and shoving off? What are we all standing +about getting cold for? I vote we have a jolly good pull, too. Stay +away for half-an-hour or so--eh?" + +The long, slim galley came at length alongside under the manipulation +of the two rather apathetic members of the galley's crew, and the +officers' racing crew descended the gangway and took possession of her. + +"Now then," said the Young Doctor, "sort yourselves out: Number One +stroke, Gerrard bow, Bunje----" + +"I'm going bow," said the Engineer Lieutenant. "I pulled bow at Keyham +for two years, and in China----" + +"If you stand there kagging[1] we'll never get away," interposed the +coxswain, "and the Commander will want to know who drank his cocoa. +Bunje second stroke, James third stroke. Derreck, you're second bow, +and Tweedledum third bow, and for heaven's sake sit down and stop +gassing, all of you." + +Thorogood leaned forward and extended a stretcher for inspection. + +"How the devil am I to pull with a stretcher like this, Pills?" he +demanded. "It'll smash before we've gone a yard." + +"When I was at Keyham," said the Engineer Lieutenant, slopping water +over the canvas parcelling on his oar in a professional manner, "we +used to have stretchers made with----" + +"We don't want to hear about Keyham," said the First Lieutenant, "we +want to get to work. Shove the perishing thing away, James, and stop +chawing your fat. If it's good for Nelson it's good enough for you." + +"Do we start training in earnest to-day?" demanded the India-rubber +Man, gloomily rubbing his calves. "Because I don't mind admitting that +I like to start gradually. 'Another-Little-Drink-Won't-Do-Us-Any-Harm' +sort of spirit." + +"We shan't start at all if Double-O Gerrard doesn't find that blessed +boat-hook an' shove her off soon," retorted the long, lean third bow, +speaking for the first time. + +"I can't see without my glasses," complained the bow, fumbling among +the blades of the oars. "Where is the bloomin' thing? Ah, here we +are!" + +"Shove off forward!" bellowed the voice of the coxswain for the third +time. + +The bow leaned his weight behind the boathook against the ship's side, +and the bows of the galley sheered off slowly. + +"We're awa'," said the India-rubber Man, "we're awa'! Lord, 'ow +lovely!" + +They paddled desultorily for a few strokes. Then the bow "bucketed" +and sent a shower of icy spray over the backs of the two after oarsmen. +Their loud expostulations were followed by protests from Tweedledum. + +"My oar's got a kink!" he announced lugubriously. + +"Oars!" said the coxswain. "Now," he said grimly, with the air of a +man who had reached the limit of human patience, "I'll give you all a +minute. Ease up your belts, tie your feet down, have a wash and brush +up, say your prayers, spit on your hands, and get comfortable once and +for all. It's the last stand-easy you'll get. We're going to pull +round the head of the line if it breaks blood-vessels." + +The minute passed in invective directed chiefly against the oars, the +stretchers, the crutches, the boat generally and the helmsman in +particular. At the expiration of that time, however, they all sat up +facing aft, with their hands expectantly gripping the looms of their +oars and profound gloom on every countenance. + +The coxswain contemplated them dispassionately. + +"You're a cheerful-looking lot to start out with to win the cup back!" +was his comment. "Oars ready! 'Way together!" + +The crew, like a child that suddenly tires of being naughty, bent to +their oars, and the boat slid through the water under long, swinging +strokes.... + + * * * * * + +Regatta-day broke calm and clear. The hands were piped to breakfast, +and the Quartermaster of the Morning Watch, as the latest authority on +the vagaries of the barometer, entered the Petty Officers' mess with +the air of one in the intimate confidence of the High Gods. + +"Glass 'igh an' steady," he announced, helping himself to sausage and +mashed potatoes. "We'll 'ave it calm till mebbe five o'clock, then +it'll blow from the south'ard. That's down the course. But we won't +'ave no rain to-day." + +The Captain of the Forecastle, who read his "Old Moore's Almanac," and +was susceptible to signs and portents, confirmed the optimism of the +Quartermaster. + +"I 'ad a dream last night," he said. "I was a-walkin' with my missus +alongside the Serpentine--in London, that is. There was swans sailin' +on it, an' we was 'eavin' bits of bread to 'em. 'Fred,' she says, +'you'll 'ave it beautiful for your regatta. You'll win,' she says, +'the Stokers' Cutters, the Vet'rans' Skiff's, the Orficers' Gigs, an' +the All-comers.'" + +"That's along of you eatin' lobster for supper last night," said the +Ship's Painter, a sceptic who had a sovereign on a race not mentioned +by the Captain of the Forecastle's wife. "Wot about the perishin' +Boys' Cutters? Didn't your old Dutch say nothin' about them?" + +The seer shook his head and performed intricate evolutions with a pin +in the cavernous recesses of his mouth. + +"Mebbe she would 'ave if she'd 'ad the chanst," was the reply. "But +she didn't 'ave time to say no more afore the Reveille interrupted 'er, +an' I 'ad to turn out." + +The Quartermaster of the Morning Watch concluded his repast. "Well," +he said, "Mebbe she'll tell you the rest to-night. Then we'll know +'oo's 'oo, as the sayin' is. But there's one crew as I'll put my shirt +on, an' that's the Orficers' Gigs." + +"'Ow about the Boys' Cutters?" demanded the Ship's Painter whose +sovereign was in jeopardy. + +"_An'_ the Vet'rans' Skiffs," echoed the Captain of the Forecastle, +"what my wife mentioned? 'Fred,' she says----" + +"An' the All-comers," interrupted the Captain of the Side, "wiv the +Chief Buffer[2] coxin' the launch?" + +The Quartermaster of the Morning Watch made a motion with an enormous +freckled paw as if stroking an invisible kitten. "I ain't sayin' +nothin' against 'em. Nothin' at all. What I says is, 'Wait an' see.' +I ain't a bettin' man, not meself. But if anyone was to fancy an even +'arf quid----" + +The shrill whistle of the call-boy's pipe clove the babel of the +crowded mess-deck. + +"A-a-away Racing Whaler's Crew!" + +shouted the cracked high tenor. "Man your boat!" + +"There you are!" said the Blacksmith, a silent, bearded man. "What are +we all 'angin' on to the slack for? Come on deck. That's the first +race." + +Regatta-day, even in War-time, was a day of high carnival. The dozen +or so of Battleships concerned, each with its crew of over a thousand +men, looked forward to the event much in the same spirit as a Derby +crowd that gathers overnight on Epsom Downs. The other Squadrons of +the vast Battle-fleet were disposed to ignore the affair; they had +their own regattas to think about, either in retrospection or as an +event to come. But in the Squadron immediately concerned it was, next +to the annihilation of the German Fleet, the chief consideration of +their lives, and had been for some weeks past. + +For weeks, and in some cases months, the racing crews of launches, +cutters, gigs, and whalers, officers and men alike, had carried through +an arduous training interrupted only by attentions to the King's +enemies and the inclemencies of the Northern spring. And now that the +day had come, both spectators and crews moved in an atmosphere of +holiday and genial excitement heated by intership rivalry to +fever-point. + +A regatta is one of the safety valves through which the ships' +companies of the silent Fleet in the North can rid themselves of a +little superfluous steam. Only those who have shared the repressed +monotony of their unceasing vigil can appreciate what such a day means. +To be spared for a few brief hours the irksome round of routine, to +smoke Woodbines the livelong day; to share, in the grateful sunlight, +some vantage point with a "Raggie," and join in the full-throated, +rapturous roars of excitement that sweep down the mile-long lane of +ships abreast the sweating crews. This is to taste something of the +fierce exhilaration of the Day that the Fleet is waiting for, and has +awaited throughout the weary years. + +A Dockyard tug, capable of accommodating several hundred men, lay +alongside. The ship had swung on the tide at an angle to the course +that obscured full view of the start. Those of the ship's company who +desired a full complete spectacle from start to finish were to go away +and anchor at some convenient point in the line, from which an +uninterrupted panorama could be obtained. The device had other +advantages: by anchoring midway down the course a flagging crew could +be spurred on to mightier efforts by shouts and execrations, the +beating of gongs, hooting syren and fog-horns, whistles and impassioned +entreaties. + +Accordingly the more ardent supporters of the various crews, armed with +all the implements of noise and encouragement that their ingenuity +could devise, embarked. They swarmed like bees over the deck and +bridge-house, they clung to the rigging and funnel stays, and perched +like monkeys on the mast and derrick. Thus freighted the craft moved +off amid deafening cheers, and took up a position midway between two +Battleships moored in the centre of the line. The anchor was dropped, +and the closely packed spectators, producing mouth-organs and +cigarettes, prepared to while away the time until the commencement of +the first race. + +They belonged to a West-country ship--that is to say, one manned from +the Dockyard Port of Plymouth. The master of the tug, whose interest +in such matters was, to say the least of it, cosmopolitan, had anchored +between two Portsmouth-manned Battleships. The position he had +selected commanded a full view of the course, and there his +responsibilities in the affair ended. On the other hand, the crews of +the two Battleships in question, assembled in full strength on their +respective forecastles in anticipation of the forthcoming race, +regarded the arrival of the tug in the light of a diversion sent +straight from Heaven. + +The tug's cable had scarcely ceased to rattle through the hawse-pipe +when the opening shots, delivered through a megaphone, rang out across +the water. + +"_'Ullo! Web-feet!_" bellowed a raucous voice. "_Yeer! Where be +tu?_" A roar of laughter followed this sally. + +The occupants of the tug were taken by surprise. Their interests had +hitherto been concentrated in the string of whalers being towed down to +the distant starting-point by a picket boat. Before they could rally +their forces a cross-fire of rude chaff, winged by uproarious laughter, +had opened on either side. Catch-word and jest, counter and repartee +utterly unintelligible to anyone outside Lower-deck circles were hurled +to and fro like snowballs. Every discreditable incident of their joint +careers as units of that vast fighting force, personalities that would +have brought blushes to the cheeks of a Smithfield porter, the whole +couched in the obscure jargon of Catwater and Landport taverns, rang +backwards and forwards across the water, and withal the utmost good +humour and enjoyment wreathing their faces with smiles. + +The distant report of a gun sounded and a far-off roar of voices +announced that the first race had started; straight-way the tumult +subsided, and an expectant hush awaited the approach of the line of +boats moving towards them like a row of furious water-beetles. + +The race drew nearer, and ship after ship of the line took up the +deep-toned roar. The names of the ships, invoked by their respective +ship's companies as might the ancients have called upon their Gods, +blended in one great volume of sound. The more passionately interested +supporters of the crews followed the strung-out competitors in +steam-boats, and added their invocations to the rest. + +A rifle cracked on board the end ship of the line, and the crew of the +leading boat collapsed in crumpled heaps above their oars. The race +was over. On board a ship half-way down the line a frantic outburst of +cheering suddenly predominated above all other sounds, and continued +unabated as the rifle cracked twice more in quick succession, +announcing that the second and third boats had ended the race. + +A hoist of flags at the masthead of the Flagship proclaimed the names +of the first three crews, dipped, and was succeeded by the number of +the next race. Again the gun in the bows of the Umpire's steam-boat +sped the next race upon its way, and once more the tumult of men's +voices rose and swelled to a gale of sound that swept along the line, +and died to the tumultuous cheering of a single ship. + +A couple of hours passed thus, and there remained one race before +dinner, the Officers' Gigs. The events of the forenoon had +considerably enhanced the reputation of the Captain of the Forecastle +as a prophet. Furthermore, the result of the Boys' Race had enriched +the Ship's Painter to the extent of a sovereign. It needed but the +victory of the Officers' Gigs to place the ship well in sight of the +Silver Cock, which was the Squadron Trophy for the largest number of +points obtained by any individual ship. + +The starting-point was the rallying-place for every available steam- +and motor-boat in the Squadron, crowded with enthusiastic supporters of +the different crews. The Dockyard tug, with its freight of hoarse yet +still vociferous sailor-men, had weighed her anchor, and moved down to +the end of the line preparatory to steaming in the wake of the last +race. + +The Umpire, in the stern of an officious picket-boat, was apparently +the only dispassionate participator in the animated scene. The long, +graceful-looking boats, each with its crew of six, their anxious-faced +coxswains crouched in the sterns, and tin flags bearing the numbers of +their ships in the bows, were being shepherded into position. A tense +silence was closing down on the spectators. It deepened as the line +straightened out, and the motionless boats awaited the signal with +their oars poised in readiness for the first stroke. + +"Up a little, number seven!" shouted the starter wearily through his +megaphone. Two hours of this sort of thing robs even the Officers' +Gigs of much outstanding interest to the starter. + +"Goo-o-o!" whispered one of the watching men. "'E don't 'arf know 'is +job, the coxswain of that boat." + +The boat in question with a single slow stroke moved up obediently. + +"Stand by!" sang the metallic voice again. Then-- + +_Bang!_ They were off. + +As if released by the concussion, a wild pandemonium burst from the +waiting spectators' throats. The light boats sprang forward like +things alive, and in their churning wakes came the crowded steam-boats. + +For perhaps two minutes the racing boats travelled as if drawn by +invisible threads of equal length. Then first one and then another +dropped a little. The bow of one of the outside boats broke an oar, +and before the oarsman could get the spare one into the crutch the boat +slipped to the tail of the race. The spare oar shipped, however, she +maintained her position, and her crew continued pulling against +hopeless odds with pretty gallantry. + +Half-way down the mile course there were only four boats in it. The +Flagship's boat led by perhaps a yard, with a rival on either side of +her pulling stroke for stroke. Away to the right and well clear, the +Young Doctor urged his crew on with sidelong glances out of the corner +of his eye at the other boats. + +"You've got 'em!" he said. "You've got 'em cold. Steady does it! +Quicken a fraction, Number One. Stick it, Bow, stick it, lad!" + +The Flagship's boat had increased her lead to half a length ahead of +her two consorts: the Young Doctor's crew held her neck and neck. Then +the Young Doctor cleared his dry throat and spoke with the tongues of +men and fallen angels. He coaxed and encouraged, he adjured and abused +them stroke by stroke towards their goal. The crew, with set, white +faces and staring eyes fixed on each other's backs, responded like +heroes, but Double-O Gerrard was obviously tiring and the First +Lieutenant's breath was coming in sobs. They were pulling themselves +out. + +The roar of voices on either side of the course surged in their ears +like the sound of a waterfall. Astern of them was the picket-boat, a +graceful feather of spray falling away on either side of the +stem-piece. A concourse of Wardroom and Gunroom officers had crowded +into her bows, and the Commander, purple with emotion, bellowed +incoherencies through a megaphone. + +Then, with one keen glance at the Flagship's crew and one at the +rapidly approaching finishing line, the Young Doctor chose the +psychological moment. + +"Stand by!" he croaked. "Now, all together--_spurt!_" + +His crew responded with the last ounce of energy in their exhausted +frames. They were blind, deaf and dumb, straining, gasping, forcing +"heart and nerve and sinew" to drive the leaden boat through those last +few yards. Suddenly, far above their heads, rang out the crack of a +rifle, and the next instant another. The crew collapsed as if shot. + +For a moment none was capable of speech. Then the First Lieutenant +raised his head from his hands. + +"Which is it," he asked, "us or them?" + +The Young Doctor was staring up at the masthead of the Flagship. A +tangle of flags appeared above the bridge-screen. + +"I can't read 'em," he said. "Which is it? Translate, someone, for +pity's sake." + +The crew of the Flagship's boat, lying abreast of them a few yards +away, answered the question. They turned towards their late +adversaries and began clapping. The next moment the Dockyard tug burst +into a triumphant frenzy, and the picket-boat, full of cheering, +clapping mess-mates, slid alongside to take the painter. + +The First Lieutenant stretched out a large, blistered hand. "Shake, +Pills," he said. + + * * * * * + +One race is, after all, very much like another. Yet the afternoon wore +on without any appreciable abatement in the popular enthusiasm. And it +was not without its memorable features. The Bandsmen's Race crowned +one of the participators in undying fame. This popular hero broke an +oar half-way through the race, and rising to his feet promptly sprang +overboard. + +His spectacular action plunged the remainder of the crew in hopeless +confusion, and he himself was rescued with difficulty in a half-drowned +state of collapse by the Umpire's boat. Yet for some occult reason no +feat of gallantry in action would have won him such universal +commendation on the Lower-deck. "Nobby Clark--'im as jumped overboard +in the Bandsmen's Race" was thereafter his designation among his +fellows. + +The last race--the All-comers--did not justify universal expectation. +The treble-banked launch was indeed coxed by the Chief Boatswain's +Mate. A "Funny-party" in the stern, composed of a clown, a nigger and +a stout seaman in female attire, added their exhortations to the "Chief +Buffer's" impassioned utterances. But the Flagship's galley, pulling +eight oars, with the coxswain perched hazardously out over the stern, +won the three-mile tussle, and won it well. + +As the Quartermaster of the Morning Watch had foretold, a breeze sprang +up towards the close of the day. It blew from the southward and +carried down the lines a medley of hilarious sounds. + +A drifter hove in sight, shaping course for the Fleet Flagship. She +was crowded to suffocation with singing, cheering sailor-men, and +secured to her stumpy bowsprit was a silver cock. As she approached +the stern of the Flagship, however, the uproar subsided, and the +densely thronged drifter was white with upturned, expectant faces. + +A solitary figure was walking up and down the quarterdeck of the +Battleship. He paused a moment, suddenly stepped right aft to the +rail, and smilingly clapped his hands, applauding the trophy in the +bows of the drifter. The last rays of the setting sun caught on the +broad gold bands that ringed his sleeve almost from cuff to elbow. + +A wild tumult of frantic cheering burst out almost like an explosion +from every throat still capable of emitting sound. There was gratitude +and passionate loyalty in the demonstration, and it continued long +after the figure on the quarterdeck had turned away and the drifter had +resumed her noisy, triumphant tour of the Fleet. + +"That's what I likes about '_im_," whispered a bearded seaman hoarsely, +as they swung off on their new course. "'E's that '_Uman_!" He jerked +his head astern in the direction of the mighty Battleship on whose vast +quarterdeck the man who bore a share of the Destiny of Europe on his +shoulders was still pacing thoughtfully up and down. + + + +[1] Arguing. + +[2] Chief Boatswain's Mate. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +CARRYING ON + +The fresh Northern breeze sent the waves steeplechasing across the +surface of the harbour, and lapping over the hull of a British +Submarine as she moved slowly past the anchored lines of the +Battle-fleet towards the entrance. + +Her Commanding Officer stood beside the helmsman, holding a soiled +chart in his hands; further aft on the elliptical railed platform of +the conning tower a tall, angular, grey-haired man, clad in civilian +garb, stood talking to the First Lieutenant. A Yeoman of Signals, his +glass tucked into his left arm-pit, was securing the halliards to the +telescopic mast, at which fluttered a frayed White Ensign. A couple of +figures in sea-boots and duffle coats were still coiling down ropes and +securing fenders, crawling like flies about the whale-backed hull. A +hundred and fifty feet astern of the conning-tower the unseen +propellers threw the water into vortices that went curling away down +the long wake. + +"We'll pick up the trawler outside," said the Lieutenant-Commander, +folding up the chart and sticking it into the breast of his +monkey-jacket. "Deep water out there, and we can play about." His +face was burned by the sun to the colour of an old brick wall; the +tanned skin somehow made his eyes look bluer and his hair fairer than +was actually the case; it accentuated the whiteness of his teeth, and +gave his quick smile an oddly arresting charm. + +The elderly civilian considered him with grave interest before +replying. "Thank you," he said. "That's just what I want to do--play +about!" + +"The other experts are all in the trawler, with the apparatus," +supplemented the Lieutenant-Commander. "We're under your orders, sir, +for these experiments." + +"Thank you," said Sir William Thorogood, Scientist; he drew a cigar +case out of his pocket. "I feel rather like a man accepting another's +hospitality and spending the day trying to pick his brains." + +The Submarine-Commander smiled rather grimly. "You mean you're trying +to find a way of cutting our claws and making us harmless?" he said. + +"Well--Fritz's claws," amended Sir William. + +"Same thing," replied the Lieutenant-Commander. "What's ours to-day is +theirs tomorrow--figuratively speakin', that is. If it's sauce for the +goose it's sauce for the gander--just tit for tat, this game." + +"That," said Sir William, "is rather a novel point of view. It's not +exactly one that is taken by the bulk of people ashore." + +The figure beside the helmsman crinkled up his eyes as he stared ahead +and gave a low-voiced order to the helmsman. "Oh?" he said. "I don't +know much about what people ashore think, except that they're all +rattled over this so-called Submarine menace. Anyone that's scared is +apt to cling to one point of view." + +"That is so," replied the Scientist. "But I chose to come out with you +to-day for these experiments on the principle of setting a thief to +catch a thief." + +"That's sound," said the Submarine expert. "Because, you know, in the +Navy we all look at life from different points of view, according to +our jobs. No, thanks, I won't smoke till we get outside. Now, those +fellows"--the speaker jerked his head astern to the great grey +Battleships--"those big-ship wallahs--they're only just beginning to +take Us seriously. I put in my big-ship time at the beginning of the +war--we do a year in a big ship, you know, for our sins--and the +fellows in the Mess used to jeer at Us. They talked about their +rams...." He laughed. "Rams!" he repeated. "They called us pirates. +P'raps we were, but we didn't carry bathrooms in those early boats--nor +yet manicure sets.... Port ten! ... Ease to five--steady!" + +The speaker was silent for a moment, musing. "I don't know that I +altogether blame 'em." He turned to his First Lieutenant, a youth some +years his junior with preposterously long eyelashes. "'Member the +manoeuvres before the War?" The other laughed and nodded. "I +torpedoed my revered parent's Battleship," continued the speaker, "at +two hundred yards in broad daylight and a flat calm." He chuckled. +"Lor' bless me! It's like a fairy tale, lookin' back on it after two +years of war." + +"Haven't they rather altered their tune since, though?" asked the +visitor. + +"A bit, yes. They don't quite know how to take us nowadays. We come +in from patrol and tie up alongside them to give the men the run of the +canteen; they ask us to dinner and give cinema shows for the sailors, +bless 'em. We're beginning to feel quite the giddy heroes when we find +ourselves among the Battle-fleet." + +"Cold feet," interposed the First Lieutenant. "That's what's behind it +all. We're It...." + +Sir William laughed. "Well," he said, "what about those craft yonder? +There I suppose you have yet another point of view?" + +A division of Armed Trawlers lumbered out of their path, the bow gun on +each blunt forecastle rising and dipping as they plunged in the +incoming swell. + +"Ah!" said the Lieutenant-Commander, "they're different. They never +had any preconceived notions about us or their own invulnerability. +The boot's on the other foot there. We used to jeer at them once; but +now I'm not so certain...." + +"You never know what the hell they'll do next," explained the +Lieutenant with the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheek-bone. "That's +the trouble. 'They knows nothin' an' they fears nothin','" he quoted, +smiling. + +"The personal element comes in more, I suppose, in those craft," said +Sir William musingly. He focused his glasses on a turf cabin ashore. +"The Admiral was telling me that a London brain specialist was born in +one of those crofter's huts." + +The Submarine Commander nodded. "It's not unlikely," he said. "These +Northern fishermen are a fine breed. But this patrol work has +developed a new type of seaman altogether. We've got a fellow up here +huntin' Fritzes--he's a merchant seaman with a commission in the Naval +Reserve.... There are times when he makes _me_ frightened, that +sportsman. It's a blessing the Hun can't reproduce his type: anyhow, I +haven't met any over the other side, or up the Baltic." + +"Name of Gedge?" enquired Sir William dryly. + +"That's the lad," was the reply. "D'you know him, sir?" + +"No, but I've heard of him." + +"You'll see him presently," said the other. "He's waiting for us +outside onboard his trawler. If you go onboard, have a look at the +beam of his fore-hatch: rather interestin'." + +"What about it?" asked Sir William. + +"A little row of notches--that's all. He adds another from time to +time, and I feel sort of sorry for Fritz when he's about." + +"Like rats' tails hanging on a stable door," supplemented the First +Lieutenant in explanation. + +"I see," said Sir William. "This is going to be interesting." He +pitched the stump of his cigar overboard and turned up the collar of +his ulster as the spray began to drift past their heads. + +"We work together sometimes," said the Submarine Officer, "Gedge and I. +Little stunts, you know.... It's part of my job, of course, huntin' +Fritzes, but it's more than a job with him: it's a holy mission. +That's why I'm a bit frightened of him really." The speaker searched +the visitor's face with his guileless blue eyes. "I'm afraid of +meeting him one day, unexpectedly, before I can establish our +identity!" His quick smile flashed across his sunburnt face and was +gone again. + +The Submarine was passing under frowning walls of cliff, and the murmur +of the surf thundering about the caverns and buttresses of that +rock-bound coast almost drowned the throb of the engines beneath their +feet. Far out to seaward a formation of Mine-sweeping Sloops crept +away to the west. Close inshore, where the gulls circled vociferously, +an insignificant trawler with a rusty funnel lay rolling in the swell. +A wisp of bunting jerked to the stumpy foremast, and a pair of +hand-flags zigzagged above the trawler's wheel-house. The Yeoman of +Signals on the Submarine's conning tower stiffened like a statue as he +read the message. + +"Says, 'Will Sir William Thor-r-ogood come aboar-r-d, sir? If so, +he'll send a boat.'" His speech placed him at home in these Northern +latitudes. + +"Reply, 'Yes. Please send boat.'" + +A quarter of an hour later Sir William was climbing out of a tubby +dinghy over the trawler's bulwarks. A big bronzed man in a jersey and +sea-boots, wearing the monkey-jacket of a Lieutenant of the Reserve and +a uniform cap slightly askew, came forward, one enormous hand +outstretched in greeting. "Pleased to meet you, sir," he said. "My +name's Gedge." + +Sir William shook hands and winced. + +"I've heard of you," he said, "and I was anxious to meet you. What +d'you think of that toy?" + +He nodded aft at a web of wire-coils, vulcanite levers and brass keys, +standing beneath a wooden shelter in the stern. Three or four officers +from the Fleet were gathered round it with note-books in their hands +testing and adjusting amid its intricacies. + +"I've been lookin' at it," admitted the big man non-committally. "It +sounds like a cinch, but I understand it ain't perfect yet?" + +"Not by what you might call a long chalk," was the dry reply. + +The big man looked relieved. "That's all right," he said. "Because +when it is I guess I can go right along and get to bed. That little +outfit's going to finish the war, sir." + +"Hardly," said Sir William. "But it's intended to help things in that +direction. Unfortunately, you see, there's still a factor--what we +call an unknown quantity----" He lapsed into technical explanations. +The other listened for a while and then shook his head. + +"Maybe you're right," he said, "but I couldn't say. I'm no +scholar--ran away from school too young. But it seems to me----" He +lifted a booted foot and rested it on the low gunwale, "Workin' at long +distances, there's the pull of the tides...." + +Sir William's eyeglass dropped. He recovered it and screwed it home. + +"Am I right, sir?" asked the big man. + +"You are," said the Scientist. "You've studied tides, too, have you?" + +The Submarine Hunter chuckled. "I've learned to respect 'em," he +replied dryly. "Down the Malay Archipelago I learned something about +tides, spittin' overboard from salvage craft...." He stood upright. +"Well, sir, we'd better get to business. These gentlemen here are the +brains of the party"--he nodded at the group aft. "I'm only in the +picture to put them wise as to certain practical conditions of the +game...." He dropped his voice to a confidential undertone as they +walked aft. "The Navy scares me. It's so damned big, and there's so +much gold lace--and it's so almighty efficient...." + +Half an hour's discussion settled the _modus operandi_ for the +experiment. The Submarine Commander rose from the gunwale and tossed +away his cigarette-end, then he grinned at the Submarine Hunter who +stood with one shoulder against the structure aft, shredding tobacco +into the palm of his hand. + +"Gardez-vous, Old Sport!" he said, as he began to climb down into the +dinghy, where Sir William joined him. + +"That's French, ain't it?" said the Submarine Hunter. "Don't speak the +lingo." + +One of the Naval officers standing by the apparatus laughed. "It's a +challenge," he said. "Means 'Mind your eye!'" + +The Hunter jerked his clasp knife in the direction of the fore-hatch. +"I can mind it all right," he replied grimly, and laughed with a sudden +disconcerting bark of amusement. + + * * * * * + +"Now," said the Submarine Commander as the pointed bows swung round for +the open sea, "we'll get away out of it. Must keep on the surface for +a while--too many short-tempered little patrol boats close in to let us +cruise with only a periscope showing." He waved his hand in the +direction of countless smudges of smoke ringing the clear horizon. +"But once we're clear of those we'll dive and hide somewhere for a +while. Give old man Gedge something to scratch his head about, lookin' +for us. Then we'll play round and test the apparatus.... You'll be +able to observe the compass all the time, and I'll give you the +distances. There's a young flood making ..." + +For the space of a couple of hours the boat slid swiftly through the +waves and successive cordons of patrols passed them onwards with +flickering signals. The men onboard a line of rusty drifters leaned +over the sides of their plunging craft and waved as the jaws of their +baleful traps opened to let them pass through. Above their heads a +gull circled inquisitively, shrilling the high, thin Song of the +Seventh Sea: astern the peaks of Ultima Thule faded like opals into the +blue. + +A little cluster of rocky islands rose at length out of the sea ahead; +the Submarine Commander took a swift bearing and rolled up the chart. + +"That'll do," he said; "now we'll dive. There's a shoal patch +hereabouts, and we'll sit on the bottom and have lunch while old man +Gedge starts looking for us. After lunch we'll let him get near and +try a bit of daylight stalking." He glanced at the sun overhead. "Bit +early, yet awhile," he added. + +One by one, led by Sir William, they descended the steel-runged ladder +into the electric-lit depths of the Submarine. A hatch closed with a +muffled clang: a few curt orders were followed by a succession of +gurgles like those of the tide flooding through a cavern; the +Commanding Officer moved from the eyepiece of the periscope, and +gravely contemplated a needle creeping slowly round the face of a large +dial. A Petty Officer, with an expression emotionless as that of a +traveller in a railway tunnel, sat by the dial manipulating a brass +wheel; a few feet away sat a Leading Seaman similarly employed. The +eyes of both men were fixed on the hesitating needle as it shivered +round. Finally the needle wavered, crept on another inch and paused, +trembling. The Lieutenant-Commander glanced fore and aft, stripped off +a pair of soiled gauntlets and made a low-voiced observation. The two +men, as if released from a spell, turned away from their dials. + +"There we are," said the Captain cheerfully, "sitting snug on a nice +sandy bottom in ten fathoms of water. What's for lunch?" He led the +way forward to a folding table between the polished mahogany bunks. +"Fried chops, ain't it?" he enquired, sniffing. + +They took their seats on camp stools while a bluejacket dealt out tin +plates like playing cards. Sir William turned from a scrutiny of the +tiny book-shelf over the port bunk. At the head of the bunk was nailed +the photograph of a girlish face, and in close proximity to it one of a +lusty baby exploring a fur rug apparently in search of clothes. + +"Not much of a library, I'm afraid," said the host, seating himself. +"I'm not much of a reader myself. The Sub's the bookworm of this boat." + +The First Lieutenant of the Submarine shot a swift glance of suspicion +at his Commanding Officer as he helped himself to a chop. The look, +however, appeared to pass unnoticed. + +"Some months ago," continued his Captain, speaking with his mouth full, +"we were caught in shallow water over the other side----" he jerked his +head upwards and to the South East. "We were sitting on the bottom +waiting for it to get dark before we came up and charged batteries. I +was having a stretch-off on my bunk here, and the Sub, of course, had +his nose in a book as usual. From subsequent developments it appears +that a Hun seaplane saw us and proceeded to bomb us with great good +will but indifferent success." + +"We ought never to have been there," interrupted the First Lieutenant +coldly. "Bad navigation on the Captain's part." + +"Granted," said the Lieutenant-Commander. "The first bomb was rather +wide of the mark, but it woke me, and I saw the Sub's eyelids flicker. +After that I watched him. The Hun bombed us steadily for a quarter of +an hour (missing every time, of course), and the Sub never raised his +eyes from his book." + +"I was interested," said the First Lieutenant shortly; his eyes, in one +swift glance captain-wards, said more. + +"Quite. I was only trying to prove you were a book-worm." + +"What was the book?" enquired Sir William. + +"Oh, Meredith, sir. Richard something-or-another. Topping yarn." + +The guest steered the conversation out of literary channels. + +"Were you over the other side much?" he asked blandly. + +"Pretty well all the war, till we came up North," was the +Lieutenant-Commander's reply. "You'll have to use the same knife for +the butter; hope you don't mind. We get into piggish ways here, I'm +afraid.... Amusin' work at times, but nothing to the Dardanelles; we +never got out there, though; spent all our time nuzzling sandbanks off +the Ems and thereabouts. Of course, one sees more of Fritz in that +way, but I can't say it exactly heightens one's opinion of him. We +used to think at the beginning of the war that Fritz was a +sportsman--for a German, you know. But he's really just a dirty dog +taking very kindly to the teaching of bigger and dirtier dogs than +himself." + +Sir William pondered this intelligence. "That's the generally accepted +theory," he said. + +"They may have had some white men in their submarines at one time, but +we've either downed them or they've got Prussianised. They've +disgraced the very word submarine to all eternity." The speaker shook +his head over the besmirched escutcheon of his young profession. + +"They're cowards, all right," added the Lieutenant. "'Member that +Fritz we chased all the way to Heligoland on the surface?" + +"Yep. Signalled to him with a flashing lamp to stop and fight: called +him every dirty name we could lay our tongues on. Think he'd turn and +have it out? Not much! ... Yet he had the bigger gun and the higher +speed. Signalled back, 'Not to-day, thank you!' and legged it inside +gun-range of the forts. Phew! That made us pretty hot, didn't it, +Sub?" + +"Nerves," said the Lieutenant. "Their nerves are just putrid. There +was another night once----" he talked quickly between spoonfuls of rice +pudding. "In a fog ... we were making a lightship off the Dutch coast +to verify our position.... Approached submerged, steering by sound of +their submarine bell, and then came to the surface to get a bearing. +There must have been half a dozen Fritzes round that light, all lost +and fluttering like moths round a candle. We bagged one, sitting, and +blew him to hell.... The rest plopped under like a lot of seals and +simply scattered. Fight? 'Not to-day, thank you.' They're only good +for tackling unarmed merchantmen and leaving women in open boats." The +speaker wiped his mouth with his napkin. "By God! I wouldn't be a Hun +when the war's over. They're having a nice little drop of leave now to +what they'll get if they ever dare put their noses outside their own +filthy country." + +"Amen," said Sir William. + +The Captain of the boat rose from his seat, glancing at his watch. +"Now then," he said to the Scientist, "Come to the periscope and let's +have a look round. Gedge ought to be over the horizon by now." + +The men moved quietly to their stations and the tanks were blown. +Slowly the gauge needles crept back on their appointed paths. The +Submarine Commander motioned his guest to the periscope and gave him a +glimpse of flying spray and sun-kissed wave tops. A mile or so away +lay the group of islands they had seen before lunch, and close inshore +a mass of floating debris bobbed among the waves. + +"Baskets, I think--jettison of sorts. I'm going to get amongst it and +go down with the tide, keeping the periscope hidden: it's an old dodge. +You can just see the smoke of Gedge's bus coming over the horizon. +We'll give him a little game of Peep-bo!" + +Sir William drew his watch from his pocket and walked over to the +compass. "In four minutes' time," he said, "I shall start making +observations: according to our arrangements Gedge should start the +experiment then." + +"That's right," said the Lieutenant-Commander with his eyes pressed +against the eye-piece of the periscope. "Oh, good! It's bales of hay +floating, not baskets. Better still: no chance of damaging the +periscope. There's Gedge----!" + + "Ha! Ha! Ha! Hee! Hee! Hee! + I see you, but you can't see me!" + +He slewed the periscope through a few points and back to the original +position. "Hullo!" he said presently, "what's he up to? He's altered +course.... Thinks he sees something, I suppose. You're wrong, my lad. +We're not in that direction." + +The minutes passed in silence. Forward in the bow compartment a man +was softly whistling a tune to himself. The feet of the figure at the +periscope moved with a shuffle on the steel plating. + +"How's the time?" he asked presently. + +"He ought to have started the apparatus," said Sir William, standing, +watch in hand, by the compass. "What's he doing?" + +"Legging it to the Northward at the rate of knots--eight points off his +course, if he thinks he's going to get anywhere near us ... Ah! Now +he's coming round.... Humph! You're getting warm, my lad!" Another +prolonged silence followed, and suddenly the Lieutenant-Commander spoke +again. + +"Sub," he said in a curiously restrained tone, "just come here a +minute." + +The Lieutenant moved obediently to his side and applied his eye to the +periscope. + +"Well?" said the Captain after a pause. "Well, Sister Anne?" + +The Lieutenant turned his head swiftly for an instant and looked at his +Commanding Officer. "Have we got any boat out on this patrol to-day?" +he asked. + +The other shook his head. "Not within thirty miles of this. 'Sides, +he wouldn't come through here submerged, with only his periscope +dipping." + +"It's a Fritz, then," said the Lieutenant, an ominous calm in his +voice. He stepped aside and relinquished the eye-piece. + +"It is," said the other. "It's a naughty, disobedient Fritz. He's +coming through in broad daylight, which he's been told not to do. He +hasn't seen us yet--he's watching old man Gedge. Gedge thinks it's us +and is pretending he hasn't seen him.... Lord! It's like a French +musical comedy." + +Sir William put his watch back in his pocket and stood looking from one +speaker to the other. Finally he removed his eye-glass and began to +polish it with scrupulous care. + +"Do I understand----" he began. + +The voice of the Lieutenant-Commander at the periscope cut him short. +"Stand by the tubes!" he shouted. + +There was a swift bustle of men's footsteps down the electric-lit +perspective of glistening machinery. + +"Fritz must be in a tearing hurry to get home," commented the First +Lieutenant. "P'raps they've all got plague or running short of food +... or just tired of life?" + +"P'raps," conceded the Lieutenant-Commander. "Anyhow, that's as may +be.... The beam torpedo tube will just bear nicely in a minute." The +white teeth beneath the rubber eye-piece of the periscope showed for an +instant in a broad grin. "Won't old man Gedge jump!" + +"Starboard beam tube ready!" + +Sir William replaced his eye-glass. A sudden bead of perspiration ran +down and vanished into his left eyebrow. + +"The Lord," said the Lieutenant in a low voice, "has placed the enemy +upon our lee bow, Sir William." + +"Has he?" said Sir William dryly. "Then I hope He'll have mercy on +their souls." + +The motionless figure at the periscope gave a couple of low-voiced +orders, and in the ensuing silence Sir William felt the artery in his +throat quicken and beat like a piston. Then-- + +"Fire!" + +The boat rolled to port, and all her framework shook like the body of a +man shaken by a sudden sob. Back she came to her original trim, and +the Lieutenant, standing by the beam tube, raised his wrist watch and +studied it intently. The seconds passed, throbbing, intolerable, and +merged into Eternity. A sudden concussion seemed to strike the boat +from bow to stern, and as she steadied the motionless figures, standing +expressionless at their stations, suddenly sprang into life and action. + +There was the metallic sound of metal striking metal as the hatchway +opened, a rush of cool, sweet air, and the Scientist found himself +beside the two officers, without the slightest recollection of how he +got there, standing in the wind and sunlight on the streaming platform +of the conning-tower. The boat was heading with the waves tumbling +away on either side of them in the direction of a cloud of grey smoke +that still hung over the water, slowly dissolving in the wind. As they +approached a dark patch of oil spread outwards from a miniature +maelstrom where vast bubbles heaved themselves up and broke; the air +was sickly with the smell of benzoline, and mingled with it were the +acrid fumes of gas and burnt clothing. A dark scum gathered in +widening circles, with here and there the white belly of a dead fish +catching the sun: a few scraps of wreckage went by, but no sign of a +man or what had once been a man. + +"Pretty shot," said the First Lieutenant approvingly, and leaned over +the rail to superintend the dropping of a sinker and buoy. The +Commanding Officer said nothing. Beneath the tan his face was white, +and his hand, as he raised his glasses to sweep the horizon, trembled +slightly. + +The Yeoman of Signals turned to Sir William and jerked his thumb at the +water. "Eh!" he said soberly, "yon had a quick call!" + +"I ask for no other when my hour strikes," replied the Scientist. + +"Maybe juist yeer hands are clean," said the Yeoman, and turned to +level his telescope at the trawler which was rapidly approaching with a +cloud of smoke reeling from her funnel and the waves breaking white +across her high bows. + +"Here comes Gedge," observed the Lieutenant-Commander, speaking for the +first time, "foaming at the mouth and suffering from the reaction of +fright. Hark! He's started talking...." + +Amid the cluster of figures in the trawler's bow stood a big man with a +megaphone to his mouth. The wind carried scraps of sentences across +the water. + +"... Darned bunch of tricks aft.... How was I to know.... Scared +blue ... torpedo ... prisoners.... Blamed inventors...." + +"Translate," said Sir William. The Lieutenant-Commander coughed +apologetically. "He's peevish," he said. "Thought it was us blowing +up at first. Wants to know why we wasted a torpedo: thinks he could +have captured her and taken the crew prisoners if we'd left it to him." + +"Silly ass!" from the First Lieutenant. "How could we let him know he +was playing round with a Fritz? If we'd shown ourselves Fritz would +have torpedoed us!" + +"I appreciate the compliment," began Sir William, "that he implies to +my device, but, as a matter of fact, I hardly think the apparatus is +sufficiently perfect yet----" + +The Lieutenant-Commander laughed rather brutally. "He isn't paying +compliments. He went on to say he didn't want the assistance +of--er--new inventions to bag a Fritz once he's sighted him." + +The First Lieutenant came quickly to the rescue. "Of course," he said, +"that's all rot. We're only too grateful to--to Science for trying to +invent a new gadget.... Only, you see, sir, in the meanwhile, _until_ +you hit on it we feel we aren't doing so badly--er--just carrying on." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +"ARMA VIRUMQUE ..." + +The Flagship's Wardroom and the smoking-room beyond were packed to +suffocation by a dense throng of officers. The Flagship was "At-Home" +to the Fleet that afternoon on the occasion of the Junior Officers' +Boxing Tournament which was being held onboard, and a lull in the +proceedings had been the signal for a general move below in quest for +tea. + +Hosts and guests were gathered round the long table, standing in pairs +or small groups, and talking with extraordinary gusto. Opportunities +of intercourse between ships are rare in War-time. Save for an +occasional visitor to lunch or dinner, or a haphazard meeting on the +golf-links, each ship or flotilla dwelt a little community apart. On +occasions such as this, however, the vast Fleet came together; Light +Cruiser met Destroyer with a sidelong jerk of the head and a "Hullo, +Old Thing..." that spanned the years at a single leap; Submarine +laughed across the room at Seaplane-carrier; Mine-sweeper and +Mine-layer shared a plate of sandwiches with a couple of Sloops and +discussed the boxing; but they were no more than a leavening amid the +throng of "big-ship folk" who reckoned horse-power by the half hundred +thousand and spoke of guns in terms of the 15-inch. + +Almost every rank of Naval officer was represented, from Commander to +Sub-Lieutenant and their equivalent ranks in other branches; yet the +vast majority shared a curious resemblance. It was elusive and quite +apart from the affinity of race. The high physical standard demanded +of each on entry, the athletic training of their early years, the stern +rigour of life afloat, perhaps accounted for it. But in many of the +tanned, clean-shaven faces there was something more definite than that; +a strain that might have been transmitted by the symbolic Mother of the +Race, clear-eyed and straight of limb, who still sits and watches +beneath stern calm brows the heritage of her sons. + +A few there were among the gathering with more than youth's unwisdom +marring mouth and brow; eyes tired with seeing over-much looked out +here and there from the face of Youth. Yet amid the wholesome, virile +cheerfulness of that assembly they were but transient impressions, +lingering on the mind of an observer with no more permanency than the +shadows of leaves flickering on a sunny wall. + +A Lieutenant-Commander, on whose left breast the gaudy ribbons of +Russian decorations hinted at the nature of his employment during the +War, was talking animatedly to a Lieutenant with the eagle of the +Navy-that-Flies above the distinction lace on his cuff. A grave-faced +Navigating Commander, scenting the possibility of an interesting +discussion between these exponents of submarine and aerial warfare, +pushed his way towards them through the crush. + +"... I remember her quite well," the Flying Man was saying as he +stirred his tea. "Nice little thing ... married, is she? Well, +well..." + +"You're a nice pair," said the Commander, smiling. "I came over here +expecting to hear you both discussing the bursting area of a submarine +bomb, and find you're talking scandal." + +"It's a year old at that," said the be-ribboned one, with a laugh. +"I've just come back from the White Sea, but I seem to know more about +what Timmin's lady friends have been doing in the meanwhile than he +does himself!" + +He bit firmly into a sardine sandwich and laughed again. A great hum +of men's voices filled the room. Scraps of home gossip exchanged +between more intimate friends, and comments on the afternoon's boxing +mingled with tag-ends of narratives from distant seas and far-off +shores. It was nearly all war, of course, Naval war in some guise or +other, and it covered most of the navigable globe. + +A general conversation of this nature cannot be satisfactorily +reproduced. A person slowly elbowing his way from the big tea-urns at +one end of the mess to the smoking-room at the other, would, in his +passage, cut off, as it were, segments of talk such as the following: + +"... Ripping little boxer, isn't he? I had his term at Osborne +College, but he's learnt a good deal since then...." + + * * * * + +"... Jess? Poor little dog: she was killed by a 4-inch shell in that +Dogger Bank show. I've got an Aberdeen terrier now." + + * * * * + +"... Bit of a change up here, isn't it, after being under double +awnings for so long? But the Persian Gulf was getting rather boring +... were you invalided too?" + + * * * * + +"... Not they! They won't come out--unless their bloomin' Emperor +sends them out to commit a sort of hari-kiri at the end of the war.... +That's what makes it so boring up here...." + + * * * * + +"As a matter of fact we caught the Turk who laid most of the mines in +the Tigris. He conned us up the river--we put him in a basket and +slung him on the bowsprit: just in case he got careless, what? ..." + + * * * * + +"... Beer? My dear old lad, the Japs had scoffed all the beer in +Kiao-Chau before I got into the main street...." + + * * * * + +"... I had a Midshipman up with me as observer--aged 16 and 4 months +precisely.... Those machines scared the Arabs badly...." + + * * * * + +"... Just a sharpened bayonet. You slung it round your neck when you +were swimming.... Only had to use it once ... nasty sticky job. No +joke either, crawling about naked on your belly in the dark...." + + * * * * + +"... We had a fellow chipping the ice away from the conning-tower +hatch all the time we were on the surface, 'case we had to close down +quick. I tell you, it was Hell, that cold! ..." + + * * * * + +"... Five seconds after we had fired our torpedo a shell hit the tube +and blew it to smithereens. A near thing, I give you my word...." + + * * * * + +A Lieutenant-Commander appeared at the doorway from the smoking-room. + +"There will be an exhibition bout next," he shouted, "and then the +final of the Light-weights!" A general move ensued on to the upper +deck. + +The raised ring was in amidships before the after superstructure. The +officers occupied tiers of chairs round three sides of the platform. +The Admirals and their staffs in front, and the Post-captains of the +ships that had entered competitors, just behind. On the forward side, +extending the whole breadth of the ship, was the dense array of the +ship's company. The majority were in tiers on planks, but a number had +found their way to other points of vantage, and were clustered about +the funnel casings and turrets and even astride the great guns +themselves. A murmur of men's voices, punctuated by the splutter of +matches as hundreds of pipes were lit and relit, went up on all sides. +The judges were taking their seats at the little tables on either side +of the ring, and the referee, an athletic-looking Commander, was +leaning over from his chair talking to the Chaplain who was acting as +time-keeper. + +The Physical Training Officer of the Flagship stepped into the empty +ring and raised his hand for silence. The hum of voices died away +instantly, and in the stillness the thin, querulous crying of the gulls +somewhere astern alone was audible. + +"Lieutenant Adams, Welter-weight Champion of the Navy, and Seaman +Hands, ex-Middle-weight Champion of England, have kindly consented to +give an exhibition of sparring," he proclaimed, and withdrew. + +During the applause that greeted the announcement a youthful figure, +clad in a white singlet and football shorts, with a sweater thrown over +his shoulders, ducked under the ropes and walked rather shyly to his +corner of the ring. His appearance was the signal for a vociferous +outburst of applause. He sat down, holding the sweater about his +shoulders with his gloved hands, and thoughtfully rubbing the sole of +his left boot in the powdered resin. + +The clapping suddenly redoubled, and a broad, bull-necked man of about +forty vaulted lightly into the ring and took his place in the opposite +corner. He was stripped to the waist; his jaws moved mechanically +about a piece of chewing gum, and an expression of benign good-humour +and enjoyment lit his battered, kindly countenance. + +It was not until the gong sounded and the two men rose from their +chairs that the contrast between the toughened ex-professional and the +lithe, graceful amateur brought forth a little murmur of delight from +the vast audience. + +In the sordid surroundings of the prize ring there might have been a +suggestion of brutality about the older man. The great hairy chest, +the knotted arms covered with barbaric tattooing, the low-crowned skull +and projecting lower jaw gave him an aspect of almost savage, +remorseless strength softened only by the gentleness of his eyes. He +moved as lightly as a cat, and from shoulder to thigh the muscles +stirred obedient to every motion. + +The Lieutenant was perhaps fifteen years the junior. The playing +fields or racquet-courts of any university would recognise his type as +nothing out of the common. Deep-chested, lean-flanked, perfectly +proportioned, and perhaps a shade "fine-drawn"--England and America +carelessly produce and maintain the standard of this perfection of +physical beauty as no other white race can. + +The two men met in the centre of the ring, and as they shook hands the +old pugilist grinned almost affectionately. The lack of several front +teeth incidental to his late profession was momentarily apparent, and +an enthralled Ordinary Seaman, perched insecurely on the lower funnel +casing, drew his breath in relief. + +"'E won't 'urt 'im," he said in a whisper, as if to reassure himself. + +"Course 'e won't!" replied a companion, expelling a cloud of tobacco +smoke between his lips. "'S only a bit o' skylarkin'.... Gawd!" he +added in awed tones. "That one 'ud kill a donkey if 'e started +'ittin'." + +The two boxers had slipped into their habitual poses and were quietly +moving round each other. The graceful activity of the amateur was +somewhat characteristic of his school, while the ex-professional +contented himself with almost imperceptible movements of his feet, +watching with a nonchalant yet wary caution for the coming attack. +With the suddenness of a flash the Lieutenant led with his left and was +back out of harm's way again. + +True and quick was the blow, but the veteran's defence was even +quicker. Without raising either glove he appeared to have swayed +backwards from the hips. His adversary's glove should have landed full +in his face; but so perfectly was his defence timed that it just +reached him and no more. The battered face, with its amiable, +reassuring smile and slowly moving jaws, had not winked an eyelid. + +Then for three short rounds there followed a completely enthralling +display. On one side was perfectly trained orthodox, amateur boxing. +On the other every clean trick and subterfuge of irreproachable +ring-craft. Timing, footwork, feints, guarding and ducking; each +subtlety of the art of defence was demonstrated in turn. + +In the last few seconds of the final round, however, a little out of +breath with his defensive display, the older man changed his tactics. +With lowered head and ferocious face he advanced, a whirling bulk of +might and action, upon the amateur. Tap--tap--tap! Left--right, over +and under, through the guard and round the guard of the outfought +youngster the unclenched gloves totted up a score of points. There was +a careful restraint behind each blow, yet, when the gong sounded and +they smilingly shook hands amid tumults of enthusiasm, a thin red +stream was trickling from the right eyebrow of the amateur champion.... + +As they left the ring two boyish forms slipped through the ropes and +made their way to their respective corners. They both wore the +orthodox white singlet and blue shorts, and round each waist was +twisted the distinguishing coloured sash, one red and the other green. +They sat down with their gloved hands resting on their thin knees and +gravely surveyed the sea of expectant faces. Both bore traces of +previous conflicts on their features, and their united ages aggregated +something just over thirty. + +The Physical Training Officer again advanced to the ropes. "Final of +the Junior Officers' Light-weights!" he announced. "Midshipman +Harcourt on the left--green; Midshipman Mordaunt on my right--red," and +added the name of their ship. He looked from one to the other +interrogatively, and they nodded in turn. Stepping back he resumed his +seat amid a tense silence. + +"Seconds out of the ring!" + +Then the gong rang, and the two wiry figures rose to their feet and +stepped briskly to meet each other. The wearer of the green colours +was smiling, but his slim adversary looked grave and rather pale with +compressed lips. + +Their gloves met for an instant, and the fight started. There was +little or no preliminary sparring. Each knew the other's tactics by +heart. It was just grim, dogged, ding-dong fighting. In height and +weight they were singularly evenly matched, but Harcourt soon gave +evidences of being unquestionably the better boxer. He boxed coolly +and scientifically, but what his opponent lacked in style he made up in +determination. Twice his furious attacks drove Harcourt to the ropes, +and twice the latter extricated himself nimbly and good-humouredly. +Between the thud of gloves and the patter of their feet on the +canvas-covered boards their breathing was audible in the tense hush of +the ring-side. + +Ding! went the gong, and the first round was over. They walked to +their corners amid a tempest of appreciative applause, and were +instantly pounced upon by their anxious seconds. + +In one of the chairs just below the ring, Thorogood removed his pipe +from his mouth and turned his head to speak to Mouldy Jakes, who sat +beside him. + +"Good fight, eh?" he said, smiling. "Harcourt ought to win, of course, +but Mordaunt's fighting like a young tiger. He's no boxer, either. +I'm bothered if I know how he got into the finals." + +"Guts!" said the other. "Sheer guts! He won't last, though. +Harcourt'll start piling up the points in the next round." + +But when the second round started, Mordaunt developed unexpected skill +in defence. Harcourt led off with an offensive, but his opponent +dodged and ducked and guarded until the first fury of the onslaught +abated, and then a savage bout of in-fighting quickly equalised +matters, until as the end of the round approached disaster very nearly +overtook the red colours. Mordaunt swung rather wildly with his right +and missed. Harcourt's watchful left landed on the side of his +opponent's head as he lost his equilibrium, and Billy Mordaunt went +down with a thud. + +He was on his feet again the next instant, his eyes fairly alight with +battle, and his lip curled back savagely. In a whirlwind of smashing +blows he drove Harcourt to the ropes again, until a straight left +between the eyes sobered him. + +Ding! went the gong again, and again the applause burst out. The +seconds fell upon their men with furious energy. The water in the +basins was assuming a pinkish tinge, and they sponged and massaged and +flapped their towels as if striving to impart something of their own +vigour to their tired principals. The two combatants, breathing hard, +were leaning back with outstretched arms and legs, every muscle in +their resting bodies relaxed. + +"Harcourt ought to win, you know," said Thorogood again. "He's just as +fit and a better boxer. But he seems to be tiring.... He had a pretty +tough time in the heats, I fancy." + +"Seconds out of the ring! Last round!" came the Chaplain's voice. +Then the gong brought them to their feet. + +They shook hands unsmiling, and began to circle cautiously, sparring +for an opening. Then Harcourt led. It was a stinging blow and it +landed fair enough. Billy took it, and several more; for a moment it +looked as if he had shot his bolt. Then he seemed suddenly to gather +all his tiring strength. He feinted and hit lightly with his left. +Harcourt blocked it, then unexpectedly lowered his guard; a little +mocking smile flitted over his blood-smeared face. Billy's right came +in with every ounce of muscle and sinew in his body to back the jolt, +and it landed fair on the point of that flaunting chin so temptingly +offered. + +It seemed to Billy that Harcourt disappeared into a mist. There was a +thud and a great roar of voices and the sounds of clapping. + +"Stand back!" said a warning voice at the ring-side, and somewhere, +apparently in the distance, another voice was counting the deliberate +seconds: + +"... Five! Six! Seven!" + +The angry mist cleared away and revealed Harcourt sprawling on the +ground. He was leaning over on both hands, striving gallantly to rise. + +"... Eight! Nine!" + +The white figure with the green sash was on hands and knees, swaying---- + +The gong rang. Down and out! + +The referee glanced from one judge to the other and raised a little red +flag from the table. + +"Red wins!" he shouted. + +Unconscious of the deafening applause Billy bent down and slipped an +arm under his friend's shoulders. All the savage fighting blood in him +had suddenly cooled, and there was only pity and love for Harcourt in +his heart as he helped him to his feet. + +Harcourt's seconds had rushed into the ring as the gong rang, and they +now supported him to his corner. At his feeble request one unlaced the +glove from his right hand, which he extended to his late adversary with +a wan smile. + +"That was a good 'un, Billy," he said faintly. "My--head's--still +singing ... like a top! And--I taught it to you! ..." + + * * * * + +The distribution of prizes to the winners of the different weights +followed, and then the great gathering broke up. The Admirals departed +with their staffs in their respective barges, the Captains in their +galleys, Wardroom and Gunroom officers in the picket-boats. Figures +paced up and down the quarterdeck talking together in pairs; farewells +sounded at the gangways, and the hoot of the steamboats' syrens astern +mingled with the ceaseless calling of the gulls overhead. + +Harcourt and Mordaunt, descending the accommodation ladder in the rear +of the remainder of their party, were greeted by Morton, at the wheel +of the picket-boat, with a broad grin. + +"Come on," he ejaculated impatiently. "Hop in! We've got to get back +and be hoisted in. Who won the Light-weights by the same token?" + +"Billy did," replied Harcourt. He settled himself comfortably on top +of the cabin of the picket boat and pulled up the collar of his +greatcoat about his face. + +Morton jerked the engine-room telegraph and the boat moved off. + +"Why are we in such a hurry?" queried Harcourt. "Are we going out?" + +The boyish figure at the helm glanced aft to see his stern was clear, +and put the wheel over, heading the boat in the direction of their ship. + +"Yes," he said. "At least a signal has just come through ordering us +to raise steam for working cables at seven p.m." + +Lettigne, perched beside Mordaunt on the other side of the cabin-top, +leaned across. The crowded excitements of the afternoon had lapsed +into oblivion. + +"D'you mean the whole Fleet, or only just us?" he asked. + +"The whole Fleet," replied Morton, staring ahead between the twin +funnels of his boat. "I suppose it's the usual weary stunt; go out and +steam about trailing the tail of our coat for a couple of days, and +then come back again." The speaker gripped the spokes of the wheel +almost savagely. "Lord!" he added, "if only they'd come out...." + +Mordaunt fingered his nose gingerly. "They do come out occasionally, I +believe. You'd think their women 'ud boo them out.... They sneak +about behind their minefields and do exercises, and they cover their +Battle-cruisers when they nip out for a tip-and-run bombardment of one +of our watering-places. But we'll never catch 'em, although we can +stop them from being of the smallest use to Germany by just being where +we are." + +"We could catch them if they didn't know we were coming South," said +another Midshipman perched beside Mordaunt with his knees under his +chin. + +"But they always do know," said Harcourt over his shoulder. "Their +Zepps always see us coming and give them the tip to nip off home!" + +"Fog..." said Mordaunt musingly. + +"Yes," said another who had not hitherto spoken. "That 'ud do it all +right. But then you couldn't see to hit 'em. 'Sides, you can't count +on a fog coming on just when you want it." + +"Well," said Morton, with the air of one who was wearied by profitless +discussion. "Fog or no fog, I only hope they come out this time." + +He rang down "Slow" to the tiny engine-room underneath his feet, and +spun the wheel to bring the crowded boat alongside the port gangway. + + +A Fleet proceeds to sea in War-time with little or no outward +circumstance. There was no apparent increase of activity onboard the +the great fighting "townships" even on the eve of departure. As the +late afternoon wore on the Signal Department onboard the Fleet Flagship +was busy for a space, and the daylight signalling searchlights splashed +and spluttered while hoist after hoist of flags leaped from the signal +platform to yardarm or masthead; and ever as they descended fresh +successive tangles climbed to take their place. But after a while even +this ceased, and the Flagships of the squadrons, who had been taking it +all in, nodded sagely, as it were, and turned round to repeat for the +benefit of the ships of their individual squadrons such portions as +they required for their guidance. + +Then from their hidden anchorage the Destroyers moved past on their way +out, flotilla after flotilla in a dark, snake-like procession, swift, +silent, mysterious, and a little later the Cruisers and Light Cruisers +crept out in the failing light to take up their distant positions. On +each high forecastle the minute figures of men were visible moving +about the crawling cables, and from the funnels a slight increased haze +of smoke trembled upwards like the breath of war-horses in a frosty +landscape. + +One by one the dripping anchors hove in sight. The water under the +sterns of the Battleships was convulsed by whirling vortices as the +great steel-shod bulks turned cautiously towards the entrance, like +partners revolving in some solemn gigantic minuet. The dusk was fast +closing down, but a saffron bar of light in the West still limned the +dark outlines of the far-off hills. One by one the majestic fighting +ships moved into their allotted places in the line, and presently + + "Enormous, certain, slow...." + +the lines began to move in succession towards the entrance and the open +sea. + +The light died out of the western sky altogether, and like great grey +shadows the last of the Battle-squadrons melted into the mystery of the +night. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"SWEETHEARTS AND WIVES" + +Betty finished her breakfast very slowly; she had dawdled over it, not +because there was anything wrong with her appetite, but because the +days were long and meals made a sort of break in the monotony. She +rose from the table at length and walked to the open casement window; a +cat, curled up on the rug in front of the small wood fire, opened one +eye and blinked contemplatively at the slim figure in the silk shirt, +the short brown tweed skirt above the brown-stockinged ankles, and +finally at the neat brogues, one of which was tapping meditatively on +the carpet. Then he closed his eyes again. + +"Would it be to-day?" wondered Betty for about the thousandth time in +the last eight days. She stared out across the little garden, the +broad stretch of pasture beyond the dusty road that ended in a confused +fringe of trees bordering the blue waters of the Firth. A flotilla of +Destroyers that had been lying at anchor overnight had slipped from +their buoys and were slowly circling towards the distant entrance to +the harbour. Beyond the Firth the hills rose again, vividly green and +crowned with trees. + +A thrush in the unseen kitchen garden round a corner of the cottage +rehearsed a few bars of his spring song. + +"It might be to-day," he sang. "It might, it might, it might--or it +mightn't!" He stopped abruptly. + +Eight days had passed somehow since an enigmatic telegram from the +India-rubber Man had brought Betty flying up to Scotland with hastily +packed trunks and a singing heart. + +Somehow she had expected him to meet her at the little station she +reached about noon after an all-night journey of incredible +discomforts. But no India-rubber Man had been there to welcome her; +instead a pretty girl with hair of a rusty gold, a year or two her +senior, had come forward rather shyly and greeted her. + +"Are you Mrs. Standish?" she asked, smiling. + +Despite the six-months-old wedding ring on her hand, Betty experienced +a faint jolt of surprise at hearing herself thus addressed. + +"Yes," she said, and glanced half-expectantly up and down the platform. +"I hoped my husband would be here ..." + +The stranger shook her head. "I'm afraid his squadron hasn't come in +yet," she said, and added reassuringly, "But it won't be long now. +Your sister wrote and told me you were coming up. My name's Etta +Clavering...." + +"Oh, thank you," said Betty. "You got me rooms, didn't you--and I'm so +grateful to you." + +"Not at all," said the other. "It's rather a job getting them as a +rule, but these just happened to be vacant. Rather nice ones: nice +woman, too. No bath, of course, but up here you get used to tubbing in +your basin, and--and little things like that. But everything's nice +and clean, and that's more than some of the places are." They had +sorted out Betty's luggage while Mrs. Clavering was talking, and left +it with the porter to bring on. "We can walk," said Betty's guide. +"It's quite close, and I expect you won't be sorry to stretch your +legs." + +They skirted a little village of grey stone cottages straggling on +either side of a broad street towards a wooded glen, down which a river +wound brawling to join the waters of the Firth. Cottages and little +shops alternated, and half-way up the street a rather more pretentious +hotel of quarried stone rose above the level of the roofs. Hills +formed a background to the whole, with clumps of dark fir clinging to +their steep slopes, and in the far distance snow-capped mountains stood +like pale opals against the blue sky. The air was keen and +invigorating, and little clouds like a flock of sheep drifted overhead. + +Mrs. Clavering led the way past the village towards a neat row of +cottages on the brow of a little hill about a quarter of a mile behind +it, and as they ascended a steep lane she turned and pointed with her +ashplant. A confusion of chimneys, cranes and wharves were shrouded in +a haze of smoke and the kindly distance. + +"You see," she said, "you can almost see the harbour from your house. +That's where the ships lie when they come in here. This is your abode. +They'll send your luggage up presently. I hope you'll be comfortable. +No, I won't come in now. I expect you're tired after travelling all +night. You must come and have tea with me, and meet some of the +others." She laughed and turned to descend the hill, stopping again a +few paces down to wave a friendly stick. + +Etta Clavering occupied a low-ceilinged room above a baker's shop in +the village, and had strewn it about with books and photographs and +nick-nacks until the drab surroundings seemed to reflect a little of +her dainty personality. Thither, later in the day, she took Betty off +to tea and introduced her to a tall fair girl with abundant hair and a +gentle, rippling laugh that had in it the quality of running water. + +"We belong to the same squadron," she said. "I'm glad we've met now, +because directly our husbands' ships come in we shall never see each +other!" She turned to Etta Clavering. "It's like that up here, isn't +it? We sit in each other's laps all day till our husbands arrive, and +then we simply can't waste a minute to be civil ...!" + +She laughed her soft ripple of amusement, cut short by the entrance of +another visitor. She was older than the other three: a sweet, rather +grave-faced woman with patient eyes that looked as if they had watched +and waited through a great many lonelinesses. There was something +tender, almost protecting, in her smile as she greeted Betty. + +"You have only just come North, haven't you?" she asked. "The latest +recruit to our army of--waiters, I was going to say, but it sounds +silly. Waitresses hardly seems right either, does it? Anyhow, I hope +you won't have to wait for very long." + +"I hope not," said Betty, a trifle forlornly. + +"So do I," said the tall fair girl whose name was Eileen Cavendish. "I +am developing an actual liver out of sheer jealousy of some of these +women whose husbands are on leave. When Bill comes I shall hang on his +arm in my best 'clinging-ivy-and-the-oak' style, and walk him up and +down outside the hateful creatures' windows! It'll be _their_ turn to +gnash their teeth then!" + +Betty joined in the laughter. "Are there many of--of Us up here?" she +asked. + +"There are as many as the village will hold, and every farm and byre +and cow-shed for about six miles round," replied Mrs. Gascoigne, the +new-comer. "And, of course, the little town, about four miles from +here, near where the ships anchor, simply couldn't hold another wife if +you tried to lever one in with a shoe-horn!" + +"And then," continued their hostess, measuring out the tea into the +pot, "of course, there are some selfish brutes who stay on all the +time--I'm one of them," she added pathetically. "But it's no use being +a hypocrite about it. I'd stay on if they all put me in Coventry and I +had to pawn my wedding ring to pay for my rooms. One feels nearer, +somehow.... Do sit down all of you. There's nothing to eat except +scones and jam, but the tea is nice and hot, and considering I bought +it at that little shop near the manse, it looks and smells very like +real tea." + +"I suppose, then, all the rooms are dreadfully expensive," said Betty. + +"Expensive!" echoed the fair girl, consuming her buttered scone with +frank enjoyment. "You could live at the Ritz or Waldorf a good deal +cheaper than in some of these crofter's cottages. You see, until the +War began they never let anything in their lives. No one ever wanted +to come and live here. Of course, there are nice women--like your Miss +McCallum, for example--who won't take advantage of the enormous demand, +and stick to reasonable prices. More honour to them! But if you could +see some of the hovels for which they are demanding six and seven +guineas a week--and, what's more, getting it...." + +"I'm afraid we are giving Mrs. Standish an altogether rather gloomy +picture of the place," said Mrs. Gascoigne. She turned to Betty with a +reassuring smile. "You don't have to pay anything to be out of doors," +she said. "That much is free, even here; it's perfectly delightful +country, and when the weather improves a bit we have picnics and walks +and even do a little fishing in an amateurish sort of way. It all +helps to pass the time...." + +"But it's not only the prices that turn one's hair grey up here," +continued Mrs. Cavendish. "That little Mrs. Thatcher--her husband is +in a Destroyer or something--told me that her landlady has false +teeth...." The speaker extended a slender forefinger, to which she +imparted a little wriggling motion. "They wobble ... like that--when +she talks. She always talks when she brings in meals.... I suppose +it's funny, really----" She lapsed into her liquid giggle. "But poor +Mrs. Thatcher nearly cried when she told me about it. Imagine! Week +in, week out. Every meal.... and trying not to look...! She said it +made her want to scream." + +"I should certainly scream," said Mrs. Gascoigne, who had finished her +tea and was preparing to take her departure. "Now I must be off. I've +promised to go and sit with Mrs. Daubney. She's laid up, poor thing, +and it's so dull for her all alone in those stuffy rooms." She held +out her hand to Betty. "I hope we shall see a lot more of each other," +she said prettily. "We're going to show you some of the walks round +here, and we'll take our tea out to the woods.... I hope you'll be +happy up here." + +The door closed behind her, and Eileen Cavendish explored the room in +search of cigarettes. "Sybil Gascoigne is a dear," she observed. + +"On the little table, there," said the hostess. "In that box. Do you +smoke, Mrs. Standish?" Mrs. Standish, it appeared, did not. "Throw me +one, Eileen." She caught and lit it with an almost masculine neatness. +"Yes," she continued, "she's perfectly sweet. Her husband is a senior +Post-captain, and there isn't an atom of 'side' or snobbishness in her +composition. She is just as sweet to that hopelessly dull and dreary +Daubney woman as she is to--well, to charming and well-bred attractions +like ourselves!" The speaker laughingly blew a cloud of smoke and +turned to Betty. "In a sense, this war has done us good. You've never +lived in a Dockyard Port, though. You don't know the insane snobberies +and the ludicrous little castes that flourished in pre-war days." + +"I dare say you're right," said Eileen Cavendish. She moved idly about +the room examining photographs and puffing her cigarette. "But even +the War isn't going to make me fall on the neck of a woman I don't +like. But I'm talking like a cat. It's not seeing Bill for so +long...." + +Mrs. Clavering smiled. "No," she said, "I agree there are limits. But +up here, what does it matter if a woman's husband is an Engineer or a +Paymaster or a Commander or only an impecunious Lieutenant like +mine--as long as she is nice? Yet if it weren't for people like Sybil +Gascoigne we should all be clinging to our ridiculous little pre-war +sets, and talking of branches and seniority till we died of loneliness +and boredom with our aristocratic noses in the air.... As it is, I +don't believe even Sybil Gascoigne could have done it if she hadn't +been the Honourable Mrs. Gascoigne. That carried her over some pretty +rough ground, childish though it sounds." + +"Bong Song!" interposed Mrs. Cavendish flippantly. "As----" She broke +off abruptly. "There I go again! There's no doubt about it: I have +got a liver ... I think I'll go home and write to Bill. That always +does me good." + +That tea-party was the first of many similar informal gatherings of +grass-widows in poky rooms and cottage parlours. They were quite young +for the most part, and many were pretty. They drank each other's tea +and talked about their husbands and the price of things, and +occasionally of happenings in an incredibly remote past when one hunted +and went to dances and bought pretty frocks. + +It was Etta Clavering who conducted Betty round the village shops on +the morning after her arrival, where she was introduced to the small +Scottish shopkeeper getting rich quick, and the unedifying revelation +of naked greed cringing behind every tiny counter. + +Through Eileen Cavendish, moreover, she secured the goodwill of a +washerwoman. + +"My dear," said her benefactress, "money won't tempt them. They've got +beyond that. They've got to like you before they will wring out a +stocking for you. But I'll take you to the Widow Twankey; I'm one of +her protegees, and she shows her affection for me by feeling for my +ribs with her first two fingers to punctuate her remarks with prods. +It always makes me hysterical. She has only got two teeth, and they +don't meet." + +So the Widow Twankey was sought out, and Betty stood and looked +appealingly humble while Etta Cavendish suffered her ribs to be prodded +in a good cause, and the Widow agreed to "wash for" Betty at rates that +would have brought blushes to the cheeks of a Parisian _blanchisseuse +de fin_. + +With Mrs. Gascoigne, Betty explored the heathery moors where the +distraught pee-wits were already nesting, and the cool, clean air blew +down from the snowy Grampians, bracing the walkers like a draught of +iced wine. They even climbed some of the nearer hills, forcing their +way through the tangled spruce-branches and undergrowth to the summit, +from where the distant North Sea itself was visible, lying like a grey +menace to their peace. + +They would return from these expeditions by the path down the glen that +wound close to the brawling river; here, in the evenings, sometimes +with an unexpectedness embarrassing to both parties, they met some of +the reunited couples whom Eileen Cavendish found it hard to contemplate +unmoved; occasionally the fingers of such couples were interlaced, and +they talked very earnestly as they walked. + +On fine days the husbandless wives organised picnics and boiled the +kettle over a fire of twigs. On these occasions the arrangements were +generally in the hands of a fat, jolly woman everyone called "Mrs. +Pat." She it was who chose the site, built the fire with gipsy +cunning, and cut the forked sticks on which the kettle hung. The meal +over, Mrs. Pat would produce a blackened cigarette holder and sit and +smoke with reflective enjoyment while she translated the rustling, +furtive sounds of life in brake and hedge-row around them for the +benefit of anyone who cared to listen. No one knew whence she had +acquired such mysterious completeness of knowledge. It was as if an +invisible side of her walked hand in hand with Nature; sap oozing from +a bursting bud, laden bee or fallen feather, each was to Mrs. Pat the +chapter of a vast romance: and if she bored anyone with her +interpretation of it, they had only got to get up and go for a walk. + +She had a niece staying with her, the fiancee of a Lieutenant in her +husband's ship, a slim thing with blue eyes and a hint of the Overseas +in the lazy, unstudied grace of her movements. She spoke sparingly, +and listened to the conversation of the others with her eyes always on +the distant grey shadow that was the sea. Thus the days passed. + +In the evenings Betty read or knitted and inveigled her stout, kindly +landlady into gossip on the threshold while she cleared away the +evening meal, and so the morning of the ninth day found Betty staring +out of her window, listening for the thrush to begin again its +haunting, unfinished song. + +An object moving rapidly along the top of the hedge that skirted the +lane leading to the cottage caught her eye; she watched it until the +hedge terminated, when it resolved itself into the top of Eileen +Cavendish's hat. Her pretty face was pink with exertion and +excitement, and she moved at a gait suggestive of both running and +walking. + +Betty greeted her at the gateway of her little garden, and her heart +quickened as she ran to meet the bearer of tidings. + +"My dear," gasped Mrs. Cavendish, "they're coming in this morning. +Mrs. Monro--that's my landlady--has a brother in the town: I forget +what he does there, but he always knows." + +For an instant the colour ebbed from Betty's cheeks, and then her +beating heart sent it surging back again. + +"But----" she said. "Does that mean that our squadron is coming in?" + +"Of course it does, silly! Get your hat quick, and we'll climb up to +the top of the hill and see if we can get a glimpse of them coming in. +You'll have plenty of time to get down again and powder your nose +before your Bunje-man, or whatever you call him, can get ashore. +Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!" + +Together they toiled up the hill to the high stretch of moorland from +which a view of the entrance to the Firth could be obtained. + +"This is where I always come," said Eileen Cavendish. She stopped and +panted for breath. "Ouf! I'm getting fat and short-winded. How long +is it since you've seen your husband?" + +Betty considered. "Three months and seventeen days," was the reply. + +Her companion nodded. + +"It's rotten, isn't it? But now--at times like this, I almost feel as +if it's--worth it, I was going to say; but I suppose it's hardly that. +I always vowed I'd never marry a sailor, and ever since I did I've felt +sorry for all the women with other kinds of husbands.... Bill is such +a dear!" + +They found seats in the lee of a stack of peat and sat down side by +side to watch the distant entrance. A faint grey haze beyond the +headlands on either side of the mouth of the harbour held the outer sea +in mystery. + +"There's nothing in sight," said Betty. + +"No," said the other, "but there will be, presently. You wait." She +put her elbows on her knees and rested her face in the cup of her two +hands. "You haven't got used to waiting yet," she continued. "It +seems to have made up half my life since I met Bill. I had a little +daughter once, and it didn't matter so much then.... But she died, the +mite..." + +No Battleships had emerged from the blue-grey curtain of the mist when +lunch-time came; nothing moved across the surface of the empty harbour, +and they descended the hill to share the meal in Betty's room. + +"Perhaps they won't be in till after tea," suggested Betty. "Perhaps +the fog has delayed them." + +"Perhaps," said the other. + +So they put tea in a Thermos flask, and bread-and-butter and a slice of +cake apiece in a little basket, and climbed again to their vantage +point in the lee of the peat stack. They read novels and talked in +desultory snatches through the afternoon. Then they had tea and told +each other about the books they were reading. But as their shadows +lengthened across the blaeberry and heather, the silences grew longer, +and Betty, striving to concentrate her interest on her book, found the +page grow suddenly blurred and incomprehensible.... + +"It's getting chilly," said the elder girl at length. She rose to her +feet with a little involuntary shiver, and stood for a moment staring +out towards the sea. "I wonder..." she began, and her voice trailed +off into silence. Betty began slowly to repack the basket. "Sometimes +I pray," said Eileen Cavendish, "when I want things to happen very +much. And sometimes I just hold my thumbs like a pagan. Sometimes I +do both. Let's do both now." + +So they sat silent side by side; one held her breath and the other held +her thumbs, but only the dusk crept in from the sea. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE BATTLE OF THE MIST + +Thorogood, Lieutenant of the Afternoon Watch, climbed the ladder to the +upper bridge as the bell struck the half-hour after noon. A blue +worsted muffler, gift and handiwork of an aunt on the outbreak of war, +enfolded his neck. He wore a pair of glasses in a case slung over one +shoulder and black leather gauntlet-gloves. + +The Officer of the Forenoon Watch, known among his messmates as +Tweedledee, was focusing the range-finder on the ship ahead of them in +the line; he looked round as the new-comer appeared, and greeted him +with a grin. + +"Hullo, James," he said. "Your afternoon watch? Well, here you are." +He made a comprehensive gesture embracing the vast Fleet that was +spread out over the waters as far as the eye could reach. + +"Divisions in line ahead, columns disposed abeam, course S.E. Speed, +15 knots. Glass low and steady. The Cruisers are ahead there, beyond +the Destroyers," he nodded ahead. "But you can't see them because of +the mist. The Battle-cruisers are somewhere beyond them again, with +their Light Cruisers and Destroyers--about thirty miles to the +southward. The hands are at dinner and all is peace. She's keeping +station quite well now." The speaker moved to the range-finder again +and peered into it at the next ahead. "Right to a yard, James." + +Thorogood nodded. "Thank you: I hope I'll succeed in keeping her +there. Any news?" + +"News?" The other laughed. "What about?" + +"Well," replied Thorogood, "the perishing Hun, let's say." + +The Navigator, thoughtfully biting the end of a pencil, came out of the +chart-house with a note-book in his hand, in which he had been working +out the noon reckoning. + +"Pilot," said the departing Officer of the Forenoon Watch, "James is +thirsting for news of the enemy." + +"Optimist!" replied the Navigator composedly. "News, indeed! This +isn't Wolff's Agency, my lad. This is a Cook's tour of the North Sea." +He sniffed the damp, salt breeze. "Bracing air, change of scenery: no +undue excitement--sort of rest cure, in fact. And you come along +exhibiting a morbid craving for excitement." + +"I know," said Thorogood meekly. "It's the effect of going to the +cinematograph. All the magistrates are talking about it. They say +Charlie Chaplin's got something to do with it. I suppose, though, +there's no objection to my asking what the disposition of our Light +Cruisers happens to be, is there? It's prompted more by a healthy +desire to improve my knowledge before I take over the afternoon watch +than anything else." + +"They're out on the starboard quarter," replied the late Officer of the +Watch. "You can't see them because of this cursed mist, but they're +there." + +"Strikes me this afternoon watch is going to be more of a faith cure +than a rest cure as the Pilot suggests," grumbled Thorogood. +"Battle-cruisers somewhere ahead, Cruisers invisible in the mist, Light +Cruisers----" + +The report of a gun, followed almost instantly by a loud explosion, +came from far away on the port bow. A Destroyer that had altered +course was resuming her position in the Destroyer line on the outskirts +of the Fleet. A distant column of smoke and spray was slowly +dissolving into the North Sea haze. + +At the report of the gun the three men raised their glasses to stare in +the direction of the sound. "Only one of the Huns' floating mines," +said the Navigator. "She exploded it with her 8-pounder. Pretty shot." + +"Well," said Tweedledee, "I can't stay here all day. Anything else you +want to know, James? What's for lunch? I'm devilish hungry." + +"Boiled beef and carrots," replied Thorogood. "_Mit_ apple tart and +cream: the Messman can't be well. Pills says its squando-mania. No, I +don't think I want to know any more. I suppose the log's written up?" + +"It is. Now for the boiled beef, and this afternoon Little Bright-eyes +is going to get his head down and have a nice sleep." + +The speaker prepared to depart. + +"Hold on," said the Navigator. "I'm coming with you. I've just got to +give the noon position to the Owner on the way." + +They descended the ladder together, and left Thorogood alone on the +platform. + +The Battle-fleet was steaming in parallel lines about a mile apart, +each Squadron in the wake of its Flagship. The Destroyers, strung out +on either flank of the Battle-fleet, were rolling steadily in the long, +smooth swell, leaving a smear of smoke in their trail. Far away in the +mist astern flickered a very bright light: the invisible Light Cruisers +must be there, reflected Thorogood, and presently from the Fleet +Flagship came a succession of answering blinks. The light stopped +flickering out of the mist. + +The speed at which the Fleet was travelling sent the wind thrumming +through the halliards and funnel stays and past Thorogood's ears with a +little whistling noise; otherwise few sounds reached him at the +altitude at which he stood. On the signal-platform below, a number of +signalmen were grouped round the flag-lockers with the halliards in +their hands in instant readiness to hoist a signal. The Signal +Boatswain had steadied his glass against a semaphore, and was studying +something on the misty outskirts of the Fleet. The Quartermaster at +the wheel was watching the compass card with a silent intensity that +made his face look as if it had been carved in bronze. The +telegraph-men maintained a conversation that was pitched in a low, deep +note inaudible two yards away. It concerned the photograph of a mutual +lady acquaintance, and has no place in this narrative. + +Thorogood moved to the rail and looked down at the familiar forecastle +and teeming upper-deck, thirty feet below. Seen thus from above, the +grey, sloping shields of the turrets, each with its great twin guns, +looked like gigantic mythical tortoises with two heads and +disproportionately long necks. It was the dinner hour, and men were +moving about, walking up and down, or sitting about in little groups +smoking. Some were playing cards in places sheltered from the wind and +spray; near the blacksmith's forge a man was stooping patiently over a +small black object: Thorogood raised his glasses for a moment and +recognised the ship's cat, reluctantly undergoing instruction in +jumping through the man's hands. + +The cooks of the Messes were wending their way in procession to the +chutes at the ship's sides, carrying mess-kettles containing scraps and +slops from the mess-deck dinner. For an instant the Officer of the +Watch, looking down from that altitude and cut off from all sounds but +that of the wind, experienced a feeling of unfamiliar detachment from +the pulsating mass of metal beneath his feet. He had a vision of the +electric-lit interior of the great ship, deck beneath deck, with men +everywhere. Men rolled up in coats and oilskins, snatching +half-an-hour's sleep along the crowded gun-batteries, men writing +letters to sweethearts and wives, men laughing and quarrelling, or +singing low-toned, melancholy ditties as they mended worn garments: +hundreds and hundreds of reasoning human entities were crowded in those +steel-walled spaces, each with his boundless hopes and affections, his +separate fears and vices and conceptions of the Deity, and his small, +incommunicable distresses.... + +Beneath all that again, far below the surface of the grey North Sea, +were men, moving about purring turbines and dynamos and webs of +stupendous machinery, silently oiling, testing and adjusting a thousand +moving joints of metal. There were adjoining caverns lit by the glare +of furnaces that shone red on the glistening faces of men, silent +vaults and passages where the projectiles were ranged in sinister +array, and chilly spaces in which the electric light was reflected from +the burnished and oiled torpedoes that hung in readiness above the +submerged tubes. + +Thorogood raised his eyes and stared out across the vast array of the +Battle-fleet. Obedient to the message flashed from the Flagship a few +minutes earlier, the Light Cruisers that had been invisible on the +quarter now emerged from behind the curtain of the mist and were +rapidly moving up to a new position. Presently the same mysterious, +soundless voice spoke again: + + YOU ARE MAKING TOO MUCH SMOKE + +blinked the glittering searchlight, and anon in the stokeholds of the +end ship of the lee line there was the stokehold equivalent for weeping +and wailing and the gnashing of teeth.... + +For a couple of hours the Fleet surged onwards in silence and unchanged +formation. The swift Light Cruisers had overtaken the advancing +Battle-fleet, and vanished like wraiths into the haze ahead. The +Captain and the Navigator had joined Thorogood on the bridge, and were +poring over the chart and talking in low voices. The Midshipman of the +Watch stood with eyes glued to the range-finder, turning his head at +intervals to report the distance of the next ahead to the Officer of +the Watch. + +A messenger from the Coding Officer tumbled pell-mell up the ladder and +handed a piece of folded paper to the Captain, saluted, turned on his +heel and descended the ladder again. The Captain unfolded the signal +and read with knitted brows. Then he turned quickly to the chart again. + +For a moment he was busy with dividers and parallel-rulers; when he +raised his head his eyes were alight with a curiously restrained +excitement. + +"Rather interesting," he said, and passed the paper to the Navigator +who read it in turn and grinned like a schoolboy. + +"They have probably caught a raiding party in the mist, sir," he said, +and bent over the chart. + +Thorogood picked up the message and pursed his lips up in a short, +soundless whistle. + +"It's too much to hope that their main fleet's out," he said. + +"Their main fleet's sure to be in support somewhere," replied the +Captain. "It's a question whether they realise we're all down on top +of 'em, though, and nip for home before we catch them." + +A second messenger flung himself, panting, up the ladder, and handed in +a second message. + +"Intercepted wireless to Flag, sir." + +The Captain read it and took a breath that was like a sigh of relief. +"At last!" he said. + +The Navigator turned from the chart. + +"_Der Tag_, sir?" he asked interrogatively with a smile. + +The Captain nodded ahead at the haze curtaining all the horizon. "If +we catch 'em," he replied. + +The signal platform was awhirl with bunting; the voice of the Chief +Yeoman repeating hoists rose above the stamp of feet and the flapping +of flags in the wind. + +Thorogood turned to the Navigator. "Will you take on now?" he asked in +a low voice. "If the balloon's really going up this time I'd better +get along to my battery." + +As he descended the ladder the upper-deck was ringing with bugle-calls, +and the turrets' crews were already swarming round their guns. From +the hatchways leading to the lower-deck came a great roar of cheering. +Men poured up on their way to their action stations in a laughing, +rejoicing throng. Mouldy Jakes, with the ever-faithful Midshipman of +his turret at his side, was hurrying to his beloved guns, and greeted +Thorogood as he passed with a sidelong jerk of the head and the first +whole-souled smile of enjoyment a mess-mate had ever surprised on his +face. Further aft the Captain of Marines was standing on the roof of +his slowly revolving turret: + +"Buck up, James," he shouted merrily. "'Johnnie, get your gun, there's +a cat in the garden'--We're going to see Life in a minute, my lad!" + +He was right, but they were also destined to see Death, holding red +carnival. + +Thorogood waved his arm and shouted an inarticulate reply as he ran aft +to the hatchway leading to the cabin flat. Officers were rushing past +on their way to their posts, exchanging chaff and conjecture as they +went. Thorogood descended to the cabin flat, jerked back the curtain +of his cabin, and hurriedly entered the familiar apartment. Opening a +drawer he snatched up a gas-mask and a packet containing first-aid +appliances which he thrust into the pocket of his swimming waistcoat, +together with a flask and a small tin of compressed meat lozenges. +Once before, earlier in the war, he had fought for life clinging to a +floating spar. Then succour had come in a comparatively short time, +but the experience had not been without its lesson. + +He made for the door again and then paused on the threshold +hesitatingly. "Might as well," he said, and turning back picked up a +small photograph in a folding morocco frame and thrust it +half-shamefacedly into an inside pocket. + +As he emerged into the flat again he met Gerrard, the Assistant +Paymaster, struggling into a thick coat outside the door of his cabin. + +"Hullo!" laughed the A.P. "Having a last look at the old home, James?" + +Thorogood patted his pockets. "Just taking in provisions in case I +have to spend the week-end on a raft. What's your action station?" + +"Fore-top," was the reply. "Taking notes of the action. Now, have I +got everything? Thermos flask--watch--note-book--glasses--right! _En +avant, mon brave!_" + +Thorogood reached the 6-inch battery breathless, and found the guns' +crews busy tricing up their mess-tables overhead. The Gunner was +passing along the crowded deck ahead of him. He stopped opposite the +after gun: + +"They're out, lads!" he said grimly. "Give 'em hell, this time. Clear +away and close up round your guns--smartly then, my hearties!" + +From the other side of the deck came the voice of Tweedledee giving +orders to his battery, raised above the clatter of the ammunition +hoists, the thud of projectiles as they were placed in the rear of each +gun, the snap and clang of the breech as the guns were loaded.... + +Fire and wreckage parties stood in little groups along the main-deck, +and first-aid parties were gathered at the hatchways; two Midshipmen, +pale and bright-eyed with excitement, talked in low voices by the +foremost gun: gradually a tense hush closed down upon the main deck; +the crews stood silent round their guns, waiting in their steel-walled +casemates for the signal that would galvanise them into death-dealing +activity against the invisible foe. + +Ultimate victory no man doubted: death might sweep, swift and +shattering, along these electric-lit enclosed spaces where they stood +waiting; the great ship was being driven head-long by unseen forces +towards an unseen foe. But of that foe, none of the hundreds of men +between decks save the straining gunlayers with their eyes at the +sighting-telescopes would ever catch a single glimpse. + +The silence was riven by a roaring concussion that seemed to shake the +framework of the ship. The great turret guns on the upper deck had +opened fire with a salvo, and, as if released by the explosion, a burst +of frantic cheering leaped from every throat and echoed and +reverberated along the decks. Somewhere in the outside world of mist +and sea, under the grey Northern sky, the Battle-Fleet action had begun. + + * * * * * + +The fore-top was a semi-circular eyrie, roofed and walled with steel, +that projected from the fore topmast some distance above the giant +tripod. It was reached by iron rungs let into the mast, and here +Gerrard, with the din of bugles and the cheering still ringing in his +ears, joined the assembled officers and men whose station it was in +action. + +From that dizzy elevation it was possible to take in the disposition of +the vast Fleet at a single glance. It was like looking down on model +ships spread out over a grey carpet preparatory to a children's game. +A white flicker of foam at each blunt ram and the wind singing past the +hooded top alone gave any indication of the speed at which the ships +were advancing. It was an immense monochrome of grey. Grey ships with +the White Ensign flying free on each: grey sea flecked here and there +by the diverging bow-waves breaking as they met: a grey sky along which +the smoke trailed sullenly and gathered in a dense, low-lying cloud +that mingled with the haze astern. + +The Lieutenant in the top drew Gerrard to his side. "Put your head +down here," he said, "out of the wind ... can you hear?" There was a +queer ring of exultation in his voice. "Guns!" + +Gerrard bent down and strained all his faculties to listen. For a +moment he heard nothing but the hum of the wind and the vibration of +the engines transmitted by the mast. Then, faint and intermittent, +like the far-off grumble of a gathering thunderstorm, his ear caught a +sound that sent all his pulses hammering. + +"Thank God I've lived to hear that noise!" muttered the Lieutenant. He +straightened up, staring ahead through his glasses in the direction of +the invisible fight. + +For a while no one spoke. The tense minutes dragged by as the sounds +of firing grew momentarily more distinct. The uncertain outline of the +near horizon was punctuated by vivid flashes of flame from the guns of +the approaching enemy. They were still hidden by the mist and +apparently unconscious of the Battle-Fleet bearing down upon them like +some vast, implacable instrument of doom. The target of their guns +suddenly became visible as the Battle-cruisers appeared on the +starboard bow, moving rapidly across the limit of vision like a line of +grey phantoms spitting fire and destruction as they went. Misty +columns of foam that leaped up from the water all about them showed +that they were under heavy fire. + +The Battle-Fleet was deploying into Line of Battle, Squadron forming up +astern of Squadron in a single line of mailed monsters extending far +into the haze that was momentarily closing in upon them. The curtain +ahead was again pierced by a retreating force of Cruisers beaten back +on the protection of the Battle-Fleet and ringed by leaping waterspouts +as the enemy's salvos pursued them. + +As yet the enemy were invisible, but when the last ship swung into +deployment the mist cleared for a moment and disclosed them amid a +cloud of smoke and the furious flashes of guns. The moment had come, +and all along the extended British battle-line the turret guns opened +fire with a roar of angry sound that seemed to split the grey vault of +heaven. As if to mock them in that supreme instant the mist swirled +across again and hid the German Fleet wheeling round in panic flight. + +The gases belched from the muzzles of the guns, together with the smoke +of hundreds of funnels caught and held by the encircling mist, reeled +to and fro across the spouting water and mingled with the grey clouds +from bursting shell. Through it all the two Fleets, the pursuing and +the pursued, grappled in blindfold headlong fury. + +Thorogood's battery was on the disengaged side of the ship during the +earlier phases of the action. Across the deck they heard the guns of +Tweedledee's battery open fire with a roar, and then the cheering of +the crews, mingled with the cordite fumes, was drowned by an +ear-splitting detonation in the confined spaces of the mess deck, +followed by a blinding flash of light. + +Tweedledee was flung from where he was standing to pitch brokenly at +the foot of the hatchway, like a rag doll flung down by a child in a +passion. He lay outstretched, face downwards, with his head resting on +his forearm as if asleep. Most of the lights had been extinguished by +the explosion, but a pile of cartridges in the rear of one of the guns +had caught fire and burned fiercely, illuminating everything with a +yellow glare. + +Lettigne, Midshipman of the battery, was untouched; deafened and +deathly sick he took command of the remaining guns. He, who ten +seconds before had never even seen death, was slithering about dimly +lit decks, slippery with what he dared not look at, encouraging and +steadying the crews, and helping to extinguish the burning cordite. In +darkened corners, where they had been thrown by the explosion, men were +groaning and dying.... + +That shell had been one of several that had struck the ship +simultaneously. Mouldy Jakes opened his eyes to see a streak of light +showing through a jagged rip in a bulkhead. The light was red and hurt +his eyes: he passed his hand across his face, and it was wet with a +warm stickiness. His vision cleared, however, and for a few moments he +studied the drops of water that were dripping from the gash in the +plating. "Crying!" he said stupidly. The shells that pitched short +had deluged the fore-part of the ship with water, and it was still +dripping into the interior of the turret. Mouldy Jakes raised his +head, and a yard or two away saw Morton. The breech of one of the guns +was open, and Morton was lying limply over the huge breech-block. The +machinery was smashed and twisted, and mixed up with it were dead men +and bits of men.... + +A little while later the Fleet Surgeon, splashed with red to the +elbows, glanced up from his work in the fore-distributing station and +saw a strange figure descending the hatchway. It was Mouldy Jakes: his +scalp was torn so that a red triangular patch hung rakishly over one +eye. Flung over his shoulder was the limp form of an unconscious +Midshipman. For a moment he stood swaying, steadying himself with +outstretched hand against the rail of the ladder. + +"Thought I'd better bring him along," he gasped. "Turret's knocked to +hell.... He's still alive, but he's broken all to little bits inside +... I can feel him... Morton, snottie of my turret ..." + +Sickberth Stewards relieved him of his burden, and Mouldy Jakes sat +down on the bottom rung of the ladder and began to whimper like a +distraught child. "It's my hand..." he said plaintively, and extended +a trembling, shattered palm. "I've only just noticed it." + + +With his eye glued to the periscope of his turret the India-rubber Man +was fidgeting and swearing softly under his breath at the exasperating +treachery of the fog. The great guns under his control roared at +intervals, but before the effect of the shell-burst could be observed +the enemy would be swallowed from sight. Once, at the commencement of +the action, he thought of Betty; he thought of her tenderly and +reverently, and then put her out of his mind.... + + +Lanes of unexpected visibility opened while an eye-lid winked, and +disclosed a score of desperate fights passing and reappearing like +scenes upon a screen. A German Battleship, near and quite distinct, +was in sight for a moment, listing slowly over with her guns pointing +upwards like the fingers of a distraught hand, and as she sank the mist +closed down again as it were a merciful curtain drawn to hide a horror. +An enemy Cruiser dropped down the engaged side of the line like an +exhausted participator in a Bacchanal of Furies. Her sides were riven +and gaping, with a red glare showing through the rents. Her decks were +a ruined shambles of blackened, twisted metal, but she still spat +defiance from a solitary gun, and sank firing as the fight swept past. + +Hither and thither rolled the fog, blotting out the enemy at one +moment, at another disclosing swift and awful cataclysms. A British +Cruiser, dodging and zigzagging through a tempest of shells, blew up. +She changed on the instant into a column of black smoke and wreckage +that leaped up into the outraged sky; it trembled there like a dark +monument to the futile hate of man for his brother man and slowly +dissolved into the mist. A German Destroyer attack crumpled up in the +blast of the 6-inch batteries of the British Fleet, and the British +Destroyers dashed to meet their crippled onslaught as vultures might +swoop on blinded wolves. They fought at point-blank range, asking no +quarter, expecting none; they fought over decks ravaged by shrapnel and +piled with dead. The sea was thick with floating corpses and shattered +wreckage, and darkened with patches of oil that marked the grave of a +rammed Submarine or sunken Destroyer. Maimed and bleeding men dragged +themselves on to rafts and cheered their comrades as they left them to +their death. + +Through that witches' cauldron of fog and shell-smoke the British +Battle-Fleet groped for its elusive foe. One minute of perfect +visibility, one little minute of clear range beyond the fog-masked +sights, was all they asked to deal the death-blow that would end the +fight--men prayed God for it and died with the prayer in their teeth. + +But the minute never came. The firing died away down the line; the +dumb guns moved blindly towards the shifting sounds of strife like +monsters mouthing for the prey that was denied them, but the fog held +and the merciful dusk closed down and covered the flight of the +stricken German Fleet for the shelter of its protecting mine-fields. + +It was not until night fell that the British Destroyers began their +savage work in earnest. Flotilla after flotilla was detached from the +Fleet and swallowed by the short summer night, moving swiftly and +relentlessly to their appointed tasks like black panthers on the trail. + +Cut off from their base by the British Fleet the scattered German +squadrons dodged and doubled through the darkness, striving to elude +the cordon drawn across their path. They can be pictured as towering +black shadows rushing headlong through the night, with the wounded +groaning between their wreckage-strewn decks; and on each bridge, high +above them in the windy darkness, men talked in guttural +mono-syllables, peering through high-power glasses for the menace that +stalked them.... On the trigger of every gun there would be a +twitching finger, and all the while the blackness round them would be +pierced and rent by distant spurts of flame.... + +The wind and sea had risen, and over an area of several hundred square +miles of stormy sea swept the Terror by Night. Bursting star-shell and +questioning searchlight fought with the darkness, betraying to the guns +the sinister black hulls driving through clouds of silver spray, the +loaded tubes and streaming decks, the oilskin-clad figures on each +bridge forcing the attack home against the devastating blast of the +shrapnel. Death was abroad, berserk and blindfold. A fleeing German +Cruiser fell among a flotilla of Destroyers and altered her helm, with +every gun and searchlight blazing, to ram the leading boat. The +Destroyer had time to alter course sufficiently to bring the two ships +bow to bow before the impact came. Then there was a grinding crash: +forecastle, bridge and foremost gun a pile of wreckage and struggling +figures. The blast of the German guns swept the funnels, boats, cowls +and men away as a gale blows dead leaves before it. Then the Cruiser +swung clear and vanished into the darkness, pursued by the remainder of +the Flotilla, and leaving the Destroyer reeling among the waves like a +man that has been struck in the face with a knuckle-duster by a runaway +thief. In the direction where the Cruiser had disappeared five minutes +later a column of flame leaped skyward, and the Flotilla, vengeance +accomplished, swung off through the darkness in search of a fresh +quarry. + +All night long the disabled Destroyer rolled helplessly in the trough +of the sea. The dawn came slowly across the sky, as if apprehensive of +what it might behold on the face of the troubled waters; in the growing +light the survivors of the Destroyer's crew saw a crippled German +Cruiser trailing south at slow speed. Only one gun remained in action +onboard the Destroyer, and round that gathered the bandaged remnant of +what had once been a ship's company. They shook hands grimly among +themselves and spat and girded their loins for their last fight. + +The German Cruiser turned slowly over and sank while they trained the +gun.... + +A dismasted Destroyer, with riddled funnels and a foot of water +swilling across the floor plates in the engine-room, bore down upon +them about noon and took her crippled sister in tow. They passed +slowly away to the westward, leaving the circle of grey, tumbling sea +to the floating wreckage of a hundred fights and the thin keening of +the gulls. + +The afternoon wore on: five drenched, haggard men were laboriously +propelling a life-saving raft by means of paddles in the direction of +the English coast that lay some hundred odd miles to the west. The +waves washed over their numbed bodies, and imparted an almost lifelike +air of animation to the corpse of a companion that lay between them, +staring at the sullen sky. + +Suddenly one of the paddlers stopped and pointed ahead. A boat manned +by four men appeared on the crest of a wave and slid down a grey-back +towards them. The oarsmen were rowing with slow strokes, and +eventually the two craft passed each other within hailing distance. +The men on the raft stared hard. + +"'Uns!" said one. "Bloody 'Uns.... Strictly speakin', we did ought to +fight 'em.... Best look t'other way, lads!" + +His companions followed his example and continued their futile +mechanical paddling with averted heads. + +The bow-oar of the German boat, who had a blood-stained bandage round +his head, also stared. + +"_Englaender!_" he said. "_Verdammte Schweine!_" and added, "_Fuenf!_ +..." whereupon he and his companions also averted their heads, because +they were four. + +They passed each other thus. The waves that washed over the raft +rolled the dead man's head to and fro, as if he found the situation +rather preposterous. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE AFTERMATH + +Such was the Battle of the Mist, a triumphant assertion after nearly +two years of vigil and waiting, of British Sea Power. It commenced +with a cloud of smoke on the horizon no larger than a man's hand. Its +consequences and effects spread out in widening ripples through space +and time, changing the vast policies of nations, engulfing thousands of +humble lives and hopes and destinies. Centuries hence the ripples will +still be washing up the flotsam of that fight on the shores of human +life. Long after the last survivor has passed to dust the echo of the +British and German guns will rumble in ears not yet conceived. Princes +will hear it in the chimes of their marriage bells; it will accompany +the scratching of diplomatists' pens and the creaking wheels of the +pioneer's ox-wagon. It will sound above the clatter of Baltic +ship-yards and in the silence of the desert where the caravan routes +stretch white beneath the moon. The Afghan, bending knife in hand over +a whetstone, and the Chinese coolie knee-deep in his wet paddy-fields, +will pause in their work to listen to the sound, uncomprehending, even +while the dust is gathering on the labours of the historian and the +novelist.... + +But this tale does not aspire to deal with the wide issues or +significances of the war. It is an endeavour to trace the threads of +certain lives a little way through a loosely-woven fabric of great +events. At the conclusion there will be ends unfinished; the colours +of some will have changed to grey and others will have vanished into +the warp; but the design is so vast and the loom so near that we, in +our day and generation, can hope to glimpse but a very little of the +whole. + + * * * * * + +The India-rubber Man sat on the edge of the Wardroom table with his cap +tilted on the back of his head, eating bread and cold bacon. The mess +was illuminated by three or four candles stuck in empty saucers and +placed along the table amid the debris of a meal. The dim light shone +on the forms of a dozen or so of officers; some were seated at the +table eating, others wandered restlessly about with food in one hand +and a cup in the other. The tall, thin Lieutenant known as Tweedledum +was pacing thoughtfully to and fro with a pipe in his mouth and his +hands deep in his trousers pockets. + +There had been little conversation. When anyone spoke it was in the +dull, emotionless tones of profound fatigue. One, just out of the +circle of candle-light, had pushed his plate from him on the completion +of his meal, and had fallen asleep with his head resting on his +outstretched arms. The remaining faces lit by the yellow candle-light +were drawn, streaked with dirt and ornamented by a twenty-four hours' +growth of stubble. All wore an air of utter weariness, as of men who +had passed through some soul-shaking experience. + +The door opened to admit the First Lieutenant. He clumped in hastily, +wearing huge leather sea-boots. Beneath his cap his head was swathed +in the neat folds of bandages whose whiteness contrasted with his +smoke-blackened faced and singed, begrimed uniform. + +"Hullo!" he said, "circuits gone here, too?" He peered round the +table. "My word!" he exclaimed. "Hot tea! Who made it? The galley's +a heap of wreckage." He poured himself out a cup and drank thirstily. +"A-A-ah! That's grateful and comforting." + +"I made it," said the Paymaster. "With my own fair hands I boiled the +kettle and made tea for you all. Greater love than this has no man." + +"Reminds me," said a voice out of the shadows, "that Mouldy got rather +badly cut about the head and lost the best part of his left hand. He +went reeling past me during the action yesterday evening with young +Morton slung over his shoulder: he was staring in front of him like a +man walking in his sleep." + +"He was," confirmed the Paymaster. "In the execution of my office as +leading hand of the first-aid party, I gave him chloroform while the +P.M.O. carved bits off him." The speaker rested his head on his hand +and closed his eyes. "Next time we go into action," he continued, as +if speaking to himself, "someone else can take that job on." + +"What job?" asked the India-rubber Man, suddenly turning his head and +speaking with his mouth full. + +"Fore medical distributing station. I've done a meat-course at +Smithfield market ... slaughter-houses before breakfast, don't you +know? I thought I could stick a good deal----" The Paymaster opened +his eyes suddenly. "I tell you, it was what the sailor calls bloody +... just bloody." + +"How is young Morton?" asked the First Lieutenant. + +No one appeared to know, for the enquiry went unanswered. The tall +figure pacing restlessly to and fro stopped and eyed the First +Lieutenant. + +"Tweedledee's killed," he said dully. "Dead..." He resumed his +thoughtful walk and a moment later repeated the last word in a low +voice, reflectively. "Dead ..." + +"I know," said the First Lieutenant. + +Tweedledum halted again. "I wouldn't care if we had absolutely wiped +them off the face of the earth--sunk every one of them, I mean. We +ought to have, with just such a very little luck.... And now they've +slipped through our fingers, in the night." Tweedledum extended a +thin, nervous hand, opening and clenching the fingers. "Like slimy +eels." + +"Some did," said the India-rubber Man musingly, filling a pipe. "Some +didn't. I only saw our guns actually sink one German Battleship; but +the visibility was awful, and we weren't the only pebble on the beach; +our line was miles long, remember." + +"I saw one of their Battle-cruisers on fire and sinking," said Gerrard. +"I was in the top. And all night long our Destroyers were attacking +them. Two big ships blew up during the night." He cut a hunk of bread +and spread it thickly with marmalade. "We must have knocked +seven-bells out of 'em. And we didn't lose a single Battleship." + +"Must have lost a Battle-cruiser or two, though," said the Engineer +Lieutenant, sitting with his head between his hands and his forefingers +propping open his eyelids. "Damn it, they fought the whole German +Fleet single-handed till we arrived! Must have..." His voice trailed +off and his fingers released his eyelids which closed instantly. His +chin dropped on to his chest, and he slept. + +"Any other officer scuppered besides Tweedledee?" asked the Major of +Marines. "What's up with your head, Number One?" + +"Only scratched by a splinter. A nearish thing. I haven't heard of +anybody else. We really got off very lightly considering they found +our range." The First Lieutenant clumped off towards the door. "Now I +must go and see about clearing up the mess. I reckon it's all over bar +the shouting." + +As he went out Thorogood entered the Wardroom. "Would anyone like a +nice beef lozenge?" he enquired, removing a packet from his pocket. +"Owner having no further use for same." + +"Where are we going?" asked the Paymaster. "I should like to go home, +I think, if it could be arranged conveniently, James?" + +"Not to-day," was the reply. "We're looking for the lame ducks on the +scene of yesterday's action. It's very rough and blowing like blue +blazes, so I don't suppose there are many lame ducks left afloat--poor +devils.... With any luck we ought to get in to-morrow morning, though." + +The sleeping figure with the outstretched arms suddenly raised his head +and blinked at Thorogood. "Where's the elusive Hun?" he demanded. + +"'Opped it," was the reply. "Otherwise vamoosed----" + +"Singing 'I'm afraid to go home in the dark,'" interposed the +India-rubber Man dryly. He got down off the table and stretched his +arms. "Well, I shan't be sorry to get some sleep." + +"Sleep!" echoed Thorogood. "You ought to see the stokers' mess-deck. +The watch-off have just come up from below after sixteen hours in the +stokeholds. They're lying sprawling all over the deck like a lot of +black corpses--just all-in." + +Tweedledum sat down on the corner of the table vacated by the +India-rubber Man. + +"I wish I knew exactly how many of them we did sink before the +Commander-in-Chief called off the Destroyers this morning," he said +plaintively. + +"So would a lot of people," replied Thorogood. "We're three hundred +miles from home, and there's every reason to suppose there are one or +two submarines and mines on the way. Those of us who get back will +probably find out all we want to know in time. I shouldn't worry, +Tweedledum. In fact, I don't see why you shouldn't get a bit of sleep +while you can." + +"By Jove!" said Gerrard as a sudden thought struck him. "I wonder if +they know all about it at home yet. Won't our people be bucked!" + +"And the papers," added the Captain of Marines. "Can't you hear the +paper-boys yelling, 'Speshul Edition! Great Naval Victory!' My word, +I'd like to be in town when the news comes out." He considered the +mental picture his imagination had conjured up. "I think I should get +tight...!" he said. + + * * * * * + +The village street had a curiously deserted air when Betty walked up it +on her way to the post office. The mail train had passed through about +an hour before, and as a rule about this time the tenants of the rooms +and cottages on the hill-side made their way to the post office at the +corner to collect their letters and chat in twos and threes round the +windows of the little shops. + +In the distance Betty saw a little group gathered in front of the +boards that displayed the contents bill of the morning paper before the +windows of the village stationer's. Recognising Eileen Cavendish, +Betty quickened her pace, but as she drew near the group dispersed and +Mrs. Cavendish entered the shop. Betty stopped for an instant as the +flaring letters on the poster became visible, stared, took a couple of +paces and stopped again opposite the boards; then she gave a little +gasp, and with a thumping heart entered the low doorway of the little +shop. The next moment she collided with Eileen Cavendish who was +blundering out, holding an open newspaper in front of her. Her face +was white under the shadow of her broad-brimmed hat, and her blue eyes +like those of a terrified child. + +"Have you heard?" she said, and thrust the sheet under Betty's eyes. +"There's been a big action.... Our losses are published, but no +details." + +"Names?" cried Betty. "Oh, let me see!" + +"Only the ships that have gone down. Our husbands' ships aren't +mentioned." + +"Wait while I get a paper," said Betty. "I shan't be a second. What +are you going to do?" + +The other considered a moment. "I shall go and see Mrs. Gascoigne," +she replied. "Will you come too? She may have heard something." + +Betty bought her paper and rejoined Eileen Cavendish in the street. + +"Poor Mrs. Thatcher..." she said. "Did you see? Her husband's +Destroyer----" + +"I know. And there are others, too. There must be five or six wives +up here whose ships have gone---- Oh, it's too dreadful ..." She was +silent a moment while her merciless imagination ran riot. "I couldn't +bear it!" she said piteously. "I couldn't bear it! I didn't whine +when Barbara was taken. I thought I might have another baby.... But I +couldn't have another Bill." + +"Hush," said Betty, as if soothing a child. "We don't know yet. We +mustn't take the worst for granted till we know. I expect we should +have heard by now if--if----" She couldn't finish the sentence. + +They reached the door of Mrs. Gascoigne's lodgings and the landlady +opened the door. Her round, good-natured face wore an air of concern. + +"She's just awa' to Mrs. Thatcher, west yonder. Will ye no' step +inside and bide a wee? She'll no' be long, a'm thinkin'." + +She preceded them into the low-ceilinged parlour, with the +horsehair-covered sofa and the Family Bible on the little table in the +window, that had been a haven to so many faint-hearted ones during the +past two years. + +"Ye'll have heard the news?" she asked. "There's been an action. Mrs. +Thatcher's man's gone down, and Mrs. Gascoigne, she's awa' to bring her +a bit comfort like." She surveyed the visitors sympathetically. "A've +nae doot there's mair than Mrs. Thatcher'll be needin' comfort the +morn, puir lambs." + +"Oh," cried Mrs. Cavendish, "don't--don't! Please don't----" She +regained her self-control with an effort and turned to the window with +her lip between her teeth. + +"Will I bring ye a cup of tea?" queried the landlady. "I have the +kettle boilin'." + +"No thank you," said Betty. "It's very kind of you, but I think we'll +just sit down and wait quietly, if we may, till Mrs. Gascoigne comes +in. I don't expect she'll be long." + +The landlady departed a little reluctantly, and Eileen Cavendish turned +from the window. + +"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm a coward to go to pieces like this. +You're a dear.... And it's every bit as bad for you as it is for me, I +know. But I'm not a coward really. Bill would just hate me to be a +coward. It's only because--because..." She met Betty's eyes, and for +the first time the shadow of a smile hovered about her mouth. + +Betty stepped forward impulsively and kissed her. "Then you're all +right--whatever happens. You won't be quite alone," she said. They +sat down side by side on the horsehair-covered sofa and Eileen +Cavendish half-shyly rested her hand on Betty's as it lay in her lap. + +"I'm a poor creature," said the elder girl. "I wish I had +something--something in me that other women have. You have it, Mrs. +Gascoigne has it, and Etta Clavering. It's a sort of--strength. +Something inside you all that nothing can shake or make waver." Tears +welled up in her eyes and trickled slowly down her cheeks. "It's +Faith," she said, and her voice trembled. "It's just believing that +God can't hurt you..." She fumbled blindly for her tiny handkerchief. + +Betty's eyes were wet too. "Ah!" she said gently. "But you believe +that too--really: deep down inside. Everybody does. It's in +everything--God's mercy...." Her voice was scarcely raised above a +whisper. + +"I know--I know," said the other. "But I've never thought about it. +I'm hard, in some ways. Things seemed to happen much the same whether +I held my thumbs or whether I prayed. And now that I'm terrified--now +that everything in life just seems to tremble on a thread--how _can_ I +start crying out that I believe, I believe...!" Her voice broke at +last, and she turned sideways and buried her face in her hands. + +"But you _do_," said Betty with gentle insistence. + +The door opened and Mrs. Gascoigne entered. There was moisture in her +fine grey eyes. "I'm so glad you two have come to keep me company," +she said. She walked to the mirror over the fireplace and turned her +back on her visitors for a moment while she appeared to adjust her hat. +"I've been helping poor little Mrs. Thatcher to pack. She has had a +telegram, poor child, and she's off South by the afternoon train." + +She turned round, still manipulating hat-pins with raised hands, and in +answer to the unspoken question in her guests' faces, nodded sadly. +"Yes," she said. "But they've got his body. She's going to Newcastle." + +"Have you had any news yourself?" asked Betty. "We have heard nothing." + +"No," replied their hostess. "Nothing, except that the hospital ships +went out last night. I expect the Destroyers got back some time before +the big ships, and we shall hear later in the day. Rob will telegraph +to me directly he gets into harbour, I know." + +She spoke with calm conviction, as if wars and rumours of wars held no +terrors for her. "And now," she said, smiling to them both, "let's be +charwomen and drink tea in the middle of the forenoon!" She moved to +the door and opened it, and as she did so a knock sounded along the +tiny passage from the door that opened into the street. + +Eileen Cavendish was busy in front of the glass, and half turned, +holding a diminutive powder-box in one hand and a scrap of swans-down +in the other. + +"Yes," they heard the voice of Mrs. Gascoigne saying in the passage, +"I'm here--is that for me?" There was the sound of paper tearing and a +little silence. Then they heard her voice again. "Have you any others +in your wallet--is there one for Mrs. Standish or Mrs. Cavendish? +They're both here." + +"I hae ane for Mistress Cavendish," replied a boy's clear treble. "An' +there was ane for Mistress Standish a while syne; it's biding at her +hoose." + +Betty jumped to her feet. "What's that?" she cried. "A telegram?" +Mrs. Gascoigne entered the room holding an orange-coloured envelope and +handed it to Eileen Cavendish. "Yours is at your lodging," she said to +Betty. Her face was very pale. + +With trembling fingers Mrs. Cavendish tore open the envelope. She gave +a quick glance at the contents and sat down abruptly. Then, with her +hands at her side, burst into peals of hysterical laughter. + +"Oh," she cried, "it's all right, it's all right! Bill's safe----" and +her laughter turned to tears. "And I knew it all along..." she sobbed. + +"Oh," said Betty, "I _am_ glad." She slipped her arm round Mrs. +Cavendish's neck and kissed her. "And now I'm just going to rush up to +my rooms to get my message." She paused on her way to the door. "Mrs. +Gascoigne," she said, "did you get any news--is your husband all right?" + +Mrs. Gascoigne was opening the window with her back to the room and its +occupants. "He's very happy," she replied gently. + +Betty ran out into the sunlit street and overtook the red-headed urchin +who was returning to the post office with the demeanour of a man +suddenly thrust into unaccustomed prominence in the world. +Furthermore, he had found the stump of a cigarette in the gutter, and +was smoking it with an air. + +He grinned reassuringly at Betty as she hurried breathlessly past him. +"Dinna fash yersel', Mistress," he called. "Yeer man's bonny an' weel." + +Betty halted irresolutely. "How do you know?" she gasped. + +"A juist keeked inside the bit envelope," came the unblushing reply. + + * * * * * + +The first rays of the rising sun were painting the barren hills with +the purple of grape-bloom, and laying a pathway of molten gold across +the waters when the Battle Squadrons returned to their bases. A few +ships bore traces in blackened paintwork, shell-torn funnels and +splintered upperworks, of the ordeal by battle through which they had +passed; but their numbers, as they filed in past the shag-haunted +cliffs and frowning headlands, were the same as when they swept out in +an earlier gloaming to the making of History. + +Colliers, oilers, ammunition lighters and hospital ships were waiting +in readiness to replenish bunkers and shell-rooms and to evacuate the +wounded. All through the day, weary, grimy men, hollow-eyed from lack +of sleep, laboured with a cheerful elation that not even weariness +could extinguish. Shrill whistles, the creaking of purchases, the +rattle of winches and the clatter of shovels and barrows combined to +fill the air with an indescribable air of bustle and the breath of +victory. Even the blanched wounded exchanged jests between clenched +teeth as they were hoisted over the side in cots. + +Before the sun had set the Battle-Fleet, complete with coal, ammunition +and torpedoes, was ready for action once more. Throughout the night it +rested, licking its wounds in the darkness, with vigilance still +unrelaxed and its might unimpaired. For the time being its task had +been accomplished; but only the enemy, counting the stricken ships that +laboured into the shelter of the German mine-fields, knew how +thoroughly. + +The succeeding dawn came sullenly, with mist and drizzle shrouding the +shores and outer sea. As the day wore on a cold wind sprang up and +rolled the mist restlessly to and fro across the slopes of the hills. + +On a little knoll of ground overlooking a wide expanse of level turf +covered with coarse grass and stunted heather stood a man with his +hands clasped behind his back. In the courage, judgment and sober +self-confidence of that solitary figure had rested the destiny of an +Empire through one of the greatest crises in its history: even as he +stood there, bare-headed, with kindly, tired eyes resting on the misty +outlines of the vast Fleet under his command, responsibility such as no +one man had ever known before lay upon his shoulders. + +Behind him, in the sombre dignity of blue and gold, in a silent group +stood the Admirals and Commodores of the Squadrons and Flotillas with +their Staff Officers; further in the rear, in a large semicircle on +slightly higher ground, were gathered the Captains and officers of the +Fleet. + +Where the turf sloped gradually towards the sea were ranged the seamen +and marines chosen to represent the Fleet: rank upon rank of motionless +men standing with their caps in their hands and their eyes on the +centre of the great hollow square where, hidden beneath the folds of +the Flag they had served so well, lay those of their comrades who had +died of wounds since the battle. A Chaplain in cassock and white +surplice moved across the open space and halted in the centre, office +in hand: + +"I am the Resurrection and the Life..." + +The wind that fluttered the folds of his surplice caught the words and +carried them far out to sea over the heads of the living--the sea where +the others lay who had fought their last fight in that grim battle of +the mist. A curlew circled low down overhead, calling again and again +as if striving to convey some insistent message that none would +understand. From the rocky shore near-by came the low murmur of the +sea, the sound that has in it all the sorrow and gladness in the world. + +At length the inaudible office for the Burial of the Dead came to an +end. The Chaplain closed his book and turned away; a little movement +ran through the gathering of officers and men as they replaced their +caps. A loud, sharp-cut order from the gaitered officer in command of +the firing-party was followed by the clatter of rifle-bolts as the +firing-party loaded and swung to the "Present!" + +"Fire!" The first volley rang out sharply, and the Marine buglers sent +the long, sweet notes of the "Last Post" echoing among the hills. +Twice more the volleys sounded, and twice more the bugles sang their +heart-breaking, triumphant "_Ave atque Vale!_" to the fighting dead. + +In the ensuing silence the cry of the curlew again became audible, this +time out of the peace of the misty hills, gently persistent. Faint and +far-off was the sound, but at the last the meaning came clear and +strong to all who cared to listen. + +"There is no Death!" ran the message, and again and again, "There is no +Death, no Death... no Death...!" + +The firing-party unloaded, and the empty cartridge cases fell to the +earth with a little tinkling sound. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +"GOOD HUNTING" + +Oberleutnant Otto von Sperrgebiet, of the Imperial German Navy, sat on +the edge of a Submarine's conning-tower with a chart open on his knees, +and smoked a cigarette. It was not a brand he cared about +particularly, but it had been looted from the Captain's cabin of a +neutral cargo steamer on the previous afternoon. A man who relies upon +such methods to replenish his cigarette case cannot, of course, expect +everybody's tastes to coincide with his own. + +As he smoked, the German Lieutenant's eyes strayed restlessly round the +circle of the horizon. They were small eyes of a pale blue, rather +close together and reddened round the rims, with light eyelashes. + +The Submarine lay motionless on the surface with the waves breaking +over the hog-backed hull. Every now and again a few drops of spray +splashed over the surface of the chart, and the Naval man wiped them +off with a scrap of lace and cambric that had once been a lady's +handkerchief. He had a way with women, that German Oberleutnant. + +Nothing was in sight: not a tendril of smoke showed above the arc of +tumbling waves that ringed the limit of his vision; the sun was warm +and pleasant, and the figure on the conning-tower crossed his legs, +encased in heavy thigh boots, and gave himself over to retrospective +thought. + +There had been a time when Oberleutnant von Sperrgebiet possessed the +rudiments of a conscience. It could never have been described as +acutely sensitive, and it never developed much beyond the rudimentary +stage. Nevertheless, it had existed once: and in the early days of the +war it was still sufficiently active to record certain protests and +objections in his mind. + +The mysterious forces that were at work in Germany, industriously +remoulding, brutalising and distorting the mind of Oberleutnant von +Sperrgebiet, together with millions of others, had not been blind to +the prejudicial effects of conscience to an evil cause. Imperial +rodomontade and the inflammatory German Admiralty War Orders had +deliberately rejected, one by one, the deep-seated principles of +humanity and chivalry in war. It had been done gradually and +systematically--scientifically, in fact, and in the majority of cases +it succeeded in producing a state of atrophy of the moral sense that +was altogether admirable--from a German point of view. + +In the case of Oberleutnant von Sperrgebiet, however, these early +qualms had a trick of recurring. They pricked his consciousness at +unexpected moments, like a grass-seed in a walker's stocking.... And +now, as he sat swinging his legs in the warm June sunlight, a whole +procession of such reflections trooped through his mind. + +For instance, there arose in his intelligence an obstinate doubt as to +whether the torpedoing without warning of a liner carrying women and +children at the commencement of the war had been quite within the pale +of legitimate Naval warfare. He had met the man who boasted such an +achievement, and for a long time he carried with him the recollection +of that man's eyes as they met his above a beer mug. They had drunk +uproariously together, and von Sperrgebiet heard all about it first +hand, and even fingered enviously the Iron Cross upon the breast of the +teller of the tale. But somehow those eyes had told quite a different +story: and it was that which von Sperrgebiet remembered long after the +wearer of the Iron Cross had gone out into the North Sea mists and +returned no more. + +Then there had been the rather unpleasant business of the boat.... + +It was in mid-winter a long way North during one of the few calm days +to be expected at that period of the year. The Submarine was running +on the surface when the Second-in-Command (of whom more anon) reported +a boat on the starboard bow. They altered course a little and, slowing +down, passed within a few yards of it. It was a ship's life-boat, half +full of water; lying in the water, rolling slowly from side to side as +the boat rocked in their wash, were five dead men. A sixth sat huddled +at the tiller, staring over the quarter with unseeing eyes, frozen +stiff.... + +Von Sperrgebiet caught a glimpse of the ship's name on the bows of the +boat: it happened to be that of a neutral ship he had torpedoed at the +beginning of the previous week during a gale. + +The German Admiralty Orders of that period contained a clause to the +effect that ships were not to be torpedoed without ensuring the +adequate safety of the crew. Which meant that those who had not been +killed by the explosion of the torpedo could be allowed to launch a +boat (weather permitting) and get into it if they had time before the +ship sank.... + +Von Sperrgebiet had given orders for the boat to be sunk by gunfire, +but somehow the memory of that stark figure at the helm persisted. Try +as he would, he failed to banish from his mind the staring, sightless +eyes and grey, famished face.... + +Altogether it was an unpleasant business. Other memories of this +nature came and went with the smoke from his cigarette. For some +reason or other he found himself wondering whether, after all, a +Belgian Relief Steamer could have been considered fair game. But he +did so hate the word "Belgium," and there was always the theory of a +mine to account for the incident.... He torpedoed her by moonlight: a +very creditable shot, all things considered. + +Another moonlight picture presented itself. A boat-load of terrorised +Finns rising and falling on the swell alongside the Submarine, and, +half a mile away, an abandoned sailing ship with every rope and spar +standing out black against the moonlight. In the stern of the boat +stood a mighty Norwegian with a red beard and a voice like a bull. One +of his arms rested protectingly round a woman's shoulders, and he shook +a knotted fist in von Sperrgebiet's face as his ship blew up and sank. + +The woman seen thus in the pale moonlight was young and pretty, and the +red-bearded man bellowed that she was his wife. The announcement was +not an unfamiliar one to Oberleutnant von Sperrgebiet: they usually +were young and pretty when he heard that hot rage in a man's voice. +Oberleutnant von Sperrgebiet made himself scarce forthwith, it might be +almost said, from force of habit.... + +The glass was falling, and it was in mid-Atlantic that they left that +boat. It blew a gale next day, and the Oberleutnant, who had an eye +for a pretty woman, sometimes wondered if the boat was picked up. + +His mind revolved for a moment round certain incidents in connection +with that affair. A German sailor from the Submarine had been sent +onboard to place the bombs; he returned with cigars, a ham, and a +pretty silver clock. Also a box of sugar plums, half finished. + +Von Sperrgebiet took the clock and the sugar plums. The cigars and the +ham (the labourer being worthy of his hire) he allowed the sailor to +keep. + +But even Submarine warfare against unarmed shipping has its risks. +There was the ever-memorable incident of the British tug, and even now +von Sperrgebiet winced at the recollection. They had sighted a sailing +ship in tow of a tug at the entrance to the Channel; von Sperrgebiet +was proud of his mastery of the English tongue, and it was this small +vanity that led him to adopt tactics which differed somewhat from his +normal caution. He submerged until within a couple of hundred yards of +the approaching tow and then rose to the surface, dripping, like some +uncouth sea-monster. Armed with a revolver and a megaphone, and with +pleasurable anticipation in his heart, the Oberleutnant emerged from +the conning-tower with a view to a little preliminary banter with these +detested and unarmed English before administering a coup de grace. He +was just in time to see a stout, ungainly man tumbling aft along the +deck from the wheel-house of the tug. Raising a booted leg with +surprising agility, the stout man kicked off the shackle of the tow +rope, and as he did so over went the helm; the blunt-nosed tug, +released from her 3,000-ton burden, came straight for him like an angry +buffalo. + +They were not forty yards apart when the tug turned, and quick as the +German coxswain was, the Submarine failed to avoid the stunning impact +of the bows. A revolver bullet crashed through the glass window of the +wheel-house; von Sperrgebiet had an instant's vision of a round face, +purple with rage, above the spokes of the wheel, and then the conning +tower's automatic hatchway closed. The Submarine was in diving trim, +and she submerged in the shortest time on record. They remained on the +bottom four hours while the sweating mechanics repaired the damaged +hydroplane gear and effected some temporary caulking round certain +plates that bulged ominously. + +But von Sperrgebiet's hatred of England was real enough before this +incident. He had always hated the English, even in his youth when for +a year he occupied an inconspicuous niche in one of the less fastidious +Public Schools. He hated them for the qualities he despised and found +so utterly inexplicable. He despised their lazy contempt for detail, +their quixotic sense of fairness and justice in a losing game, their +persistent refusal to be impressed by the seriousness of anything on +earth. He despised their whole-hearted passion for sports at an age +when he was beginning to be interested in less wholesome and far more +complex absorptions.... He despised their straight, clean affections +and quarrels and their tortuous sense of humour; the affectation that +led them to take cold baths instead of hot ones: their shy, rather +knightly mental attitude towards their sisters and one another's +sisters.... + +All these things von Sperrgebiet despised in the English. But he also +hated them for something he had never even admitted to himself. +Crudely put, it was because he knew that he could never beat an +Englishman. There was nothing in his spirit that could outlast the +terrible, emotionless determination in the English character to win. + +Von Sperrgebiet's reflections came to an end with his cigarette. He +tossed the stump overboard, and raising a pair of glasses he focused +them intently on the horizon to the eastward. + +For the space of nearly a minute he sat thus staring. From the +interior of the Submarine came the strains of a gramophone playing a +German patriotic air, and with it the smell of coffee. The crew were +at dinner, and a man's deep laugh floated up the shaft of the +conning-tower as if coming from the bowels of the sea. + +The Oberleutnant lowered the glasses abruptly. Rolling up the chart he +hoisted himself on to his feet and bent over the tiny binnacle to take +the bearing of a faint smudge of smoke barely visible on the horizon. +This obtained, he lowered himself through the narrow hatchway and +climbed down the steel rungs into the interior of the compartment. + +"Close down!" he said curtly. The gramophone stopped with a click, and +instantly all was bustle and activity within the narrow confines of the +steel shell. + +The Second-in-Command, who was lying on his bunk reading a novel, sat +up and lifted his legs over the edge. He was a spectacled youth with a +cropped bullet-head and what had been in infancy a hare-lip. His beard +of about ten days' maturity grew in patches about his lips and cheeks. + +"A ship, Herr Kapitan?" he asked in a thin, reedy voice, and reached +for a pair of long-toed, elastic-sided boots that he had kicked off, +and which lay at the foot of his bunk. + +His superior officer nodded and snapped out a string of guttural +orders. The sing-song voices of men at their stations amid the levers +and dials repeated the words mechanically, like men talking in their +sleep. With a whizzing, purring sound the motors started, and the +ballast tanks filled with a succession of sucking gurgles. + +Von Sperrgebiet glanced at the compass and moved to the eye-piece of +the periscope. For a while there was silence, broken only by the hum +of the motors. + +The Second-in-Command hung about the elbow of the motionless figure at +the periscope like a morbid-minded urchin on the outskirts of a crowd +that gathers round a street accident, but can see nothing. His stolid +face was working and moist with excitement. + +"Is it an English ship, Herr Kapitan?" + +The Oberleutnant made no answer, but reached out a hand to the wheel +that adjusted the height of the periscope above the water and twisted +it rapidly. For twenty minutes he remained thus, motionless save for +the arm that controlled the periscope. Once or twice he gave a +low-voiced direction to the helmsman, but his Second-in-Command he +ignored completely. + +That officer moved restlessly about the Submarine, glancing from dial +to dial and from one gauge to another; for a few minutes he stopped to +talk to the torpedo-man standing by the closed tube. Finally he +returned to his Captain's elbow, moistening his marred lip with the tip +of his tongue; his face wore an unhealthy pallor and glistened in the +glow of the electric lights. + +"Is it an English ship, Herr Kapitan?" he asked again in his high, +unnatural voice. + +"Yes," snapped von Sperrgebiet. "Why?" + +"I have a request to make," replied the Second-in-Command. "A favour, +Herr Kapitan. It concerns a promise"--he lowered his voice till it was +barely audible above the noise of the machinery--"to my betrothed." + +For the first time von Sperrgebiet turned his face from the rubber +eye-piece and regarded the youth with a little mocking smile that +showed only a sharp dog-tooth. + +"Don't say you promised to introduce her to me, Ludwig!" he sneered. + +"No, no," said the other hastily. "But she made me promise not to +return to her unless I had sunk with my own hands a merchant ship +flying the cursed English flag." + +"She is easily pleased, your betrothed," retorted the Oberleutnant, and +moved back from the periscope. "Your request is granted. But remember +I shall demand an introduction when we return.... It is a long shot. +Fire when the foremast comes on, and do not show the periscope more +than a few seconds at a time. I will give the orders after you have +fired." + +The Second-in-Command took up his position in the spot vacated by the +Oberleutnant. His tongue worked ceaselessly about his lips and his +hand trembled on the elevating wheel. + +"There is smoke astern," he said presently. And a moment later. "The +approaching ship looks like a liner, Herr Kapitan!" + +"What of that?" said von Sperrgebiet gruffly. + +The Second-in-Command looked back over his shoulder at his Commanding +Officer: his face was livid with excitement. "It means women, Herr +Kapitan," he said. "Children perhaps...." + +Von Sperrgebiet shrugged his shoulders. "They are English," he +replied. "Swine, sow or sucking-pig--what is the difference? They +learn their lessons slowly, these English. We will drive yet another +nail into their wooden heads.... You will drive it, Ludwig," he added +thoughtfully: and then, as an afterthought, "for the honour of the +Fatherland." + +"Thank you, Herr Kapitan," replied the youth, and turned again to the +periscope mirror. Silence fell upon the waiting men: the minutes +passed while the elevating wheel of the periscope revolved first in one +direction and then in another. At last the form of the +Second-in-Command stiffened. + +"Fire!" he cried: his uncertain voice cracked into a falsetto note. + +The stern of the Submarine dipped and righted itself again: the +Oberleutnant's harsh voice rang out in a succession of orders. The +Second-in-Command leaned against a stanchion and wiped his face with +his handkerchief. + +A minute passed, and a dull concussion shook the boat from stem to +stern. Von Sperrgebiet showed his dog-tooth in that terrible mirthless +smile of his. "A hit, my little Ludwig!" he said. + +The Second-in-Command clicked his heels together. "For the honour of +the Fatherland," he said. "Gott strafe England!" + +"Amen!" said Oberleutnant Otto von Sperrgebiet. + +The boat had been travelling in a wide circle after the torpedo left +the tube, and ten minutes later the Oberleutnant cautiously raised the +periscope. The next moment he swung the wheel round again in the +opposite direction. + +"Another ship?" asked Ludwig. + +"Yes," replied von Sperrgebiet. "One of their cursed Armed Merchant +Cruisers." He bent over the chart table for a minute and gave an order +to the helmsman. + +"A fresh attack?" queried the Second-in-Command eagerly. + +Von Sperrgebiet returned to the periscope. "When you have been at this +work as long as I have," he replied, "you will find it healthier not to +meddle with Armed Merchant Cruisers. They are all eyes and they shoot +straight. No, for the time being our glorious work is done, and we +shall now depart from a locality that is quickly becoming unhealthy." +He glanced at the depth gauge and thence to the faces of the crew who +stood waiting for orders. + +"The gramophone," he called out harshly. "Switch on the gramophone, +you glum-faced swine.... Look sharp! Something lively...!" + + * * * * * + +At seven minutes past three in the afternoon, Cecily Thorogood, that +very self-possessed and prettily-clad young woman, was seated in a +deck-chair on the saloon-deck of a 6,000-ton liner; an American +magazine was open in front of her, under cover of which she was +exploring the contents of a box of chocolates with the practised eye of +the expert, in quest of a particular species which contained +crystallised ginger and found favour in her sight. + +At nineteen minutes past three Cecily Thorogood, still self-possessed, +but no longer very prettily clad, was submerged in the chilly Atlantic +up to her shoulders and clinging to the life-line of an upturned +jolly-boat. To the very young Fourth Officer who clung to the boat +beside her with one arm and manoeuvred for a position from which he +could encircle Cecily's waist protectingly with the other, she +announced as well as her chattering teeth would allow that she + +(a) was in no immediate danger of drowning; + +(b) was not in the least frightened; + +(c) was perfectly capable of holding on without anybody's support as +long as was necessary. + +The chain of occurrences that connected situation No. 1 with situation +No. 2 was short enough in point of actual time, but so crowded with +unexpected and momentous happenings that it had already assumed the +proportions of a confused epoch in Cecily's mind. There were gaps in +the sequence of events that remained blanks in her memory. Faces, +insignificant incidents, thumbnail sketches and broad, bustling +panorama of activity alternated with the blank spaces. The heroic and +the preposterous were indistinguishable.... + +At the first sound of the explosion of the torpedo Cecily jumped to her +feet, scattering the chocolates broadcast over the deck. The ship +seemed to lift bodily out of the water and then heeled over a little to +port. There were very few people on the saloon deck and there was no +excitement or rushing about. The shrill call of the boatswain's mate's +pipe clove the silence that followed that stupendous upheaval of sound. + +A clean-shaven, middle-aged American, wearing a collar reminiscent of +the late Mr. Gladstone's and a pair of pince-nez hanging from his neck +on a broad black ribbon, had been walking up and down with his hands +behind his back; he paused uncertainly for a moment and then began +laboriously collecting the scattered chocolates. That was the only +moment when hysteria brushed Cecily with its wings. She wanted to +laugh or cry--she wasn't sure which. + +"It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter!" she cried with a catch in her +breath. "Don't stop now--we've been torpedoed!" + +The American stared at the handful he had gathered. + +"Folks'll tread on 'em, I guess," he replied, and suddenly raised his +head with a whimsical smile. "A man likes to do something useful at +times like this--it's just our instinct," he added as if explaining +something more for his own satisfaction than hers. "I'm not a +seaman--I'd only get in peoples' way messing round the boats before +they were ready--so I reckoned I'd pick up your candies." + +There were very few women onboard, and Cecily found herself the only +woman allotted to the jolly-boat. She climbed in with the assistance +of the very young and distressingly susceptible Fourth Officer. For a +moment she found herself reflecting that his life must be one long +martyrdom of unrequited affections. The stout American followed her +with a number of other passengers. The Fourth Officer gave an order +and the boat began to descend towards the waves in a succession of +uneven jolts. The crew were getting their oars ready, and one was +hammering the plug of the boat home with the butt of an enormous +jack-knife. The stout American surveyed the tumbling sea beneath them +distastefully. + +"When I get to Washington," he said, "I guess I'll fly round that li'll +old town till some of our precious 'too-proud-to-fight' party just +gnash their teeth and shriek aloud 'How can we bear it?'" + +He suddenly remembered that his pneumatic life-saving waistcoat was not +inflated. Seizing the piece of rubber tubing that projected from his +pocket he thrust it into his mouth and proceeded to blow with distended +cheeks and his serious brown eyes fixed solemnly on Cecily's face. + +He was still blowing when they capsized. How the accident happened +Cecily never knew: principally because she was concentrating her mind +on the bottom of the boat and wondering how soon the pangs of +_mal-de-mer_ might be expected to encompass her. But the fact remains +that one moment the boat was rising and falling dizzily on the waves +and the next, with a confused shouting of orders and a crash, they were +all struggling in the water. + +Cecily's life-saving jacket brought her to the surface like a cork, and +a couple of strokes took her to the side of the capsized boat and +situation No. 2 already described. Here she was presently joined by +the American, puffing and blowing like a grampus, who was placed in +possession of statement (c) referred to above. He appeared either not +to hear, however, or to incline to the view that it was a mere theory +based upon a fallacy.... + +The remaining late occupants of the boat attached themselves along the +sides and awaited succour with what patience they could. Then a +muffled sound like an internal explosion came from within the stricken +hull as a bulkhead went. The great ship lurched sickeningly above them +as a wall totters to its fall. Cecily looked up and saw for a moment +the figure of the Captain standing on the end of the bridge; true to +his grand traditions he was staying by his ship to the last. She +listed over further and began to settle rapidly. Then, and only then, +the Captain climbed slowly over the rail and dived. + +The stern of the ship rose slowly into the air, then swiftly slid +forward with a sound like a great sob and vanished beneath the surface. +One of the life-boats approached the capsized jolly-boat, and the +figures that clung to her were hauled, dripping, one by one into the +stern. + +Then they picked up the Captain, clinging to a grating, an angry man. +He scowled round at the long green slopes of the sea and shook his fist. + +"The curs!" he said. "The dirty scum.... Women on board.... No +warning...." Anger and salt water choked him. + +"They wouldn't even give me a gun because I was a passenger ship. +Unarmed, carrying women, torpedoed without warning.... I'll spit in +the face of every German I meet from here to Kingdom Come!" + +A little elderly lady with a bonnet perched awry on her thin grey hair +suddenly began a hymn in a high quavering soprano. + +"That's right, ma'am," said the Captain approvingly, as he wrung the +water out of his clothes. "There's nothing like singing to cure +sea-sickness. And we shan't be here very long." He pointed to the +high bows of a rapidly approaching ship. "One of our Armed Merchant +Cruisers, I fancy." He waved to the other boats to close nearer. + +He was no mere optimist; before a quarter of an hour had elapsed the +boats were strung out in a line towing from a rope that led from the +bows of the Cruiser. A hastily improvised boatswain's stool was +lowered from a davit, and one by one the passengers, then the crew, and +finally the officers of the torpedoed liner were swung into the air and +hoisted inboard while the Armed Merchant Cruiser continued her course. + +The sea-sick Cecily, swaying dizzily for the second time that day +between sky and water, looked down at the tumbling boats beneath her +and for a moment had a glimpse of the stout American and the Fourth +Officer. They were both standing gazing up after her as she was +whisked skyward. Their mouths were open, and the expression on their +faces gave Cecily a feeling of being wafted out of a world she was +altogether too good for. + +The sensation was a momentary one, however. The davit swung inboard as +she arrived at the level of the rail and deposited her, a limp bundle +of damp rags--in fact what Mr. Mantalini would have described as "a +demmed moist unpleasant body"--on the upper deck of the Armed Merchant +Cruiser. With the assistance of two attentive sailors Cecily rose +giddily to her feet; most of her hair-pins had come out, and her hair +streamed in wet ringlets over her shoulders. She raised her eyes to +take in her new surroundings, and there, standing before her with his +eyes and mouth three round O's, was Armitage. + +Now Cecily had gone through a good deal since seven minutes past three +that afternoon. But to be confronted, as she swayed, with her wet +clothes clinging to her body like a sculptor's model, deathly sea-sick, +red-nosed for aught she knew or cared, with the man who but for her +firmness and mental agility would have kept on proposing to her at +intervals during the past eighteen months, was a climax that +overwhelmed even Cecily's self-possession. + +She chose the only course left open to her, and fainted promptly. +Armitage caught her in his arms, and as he did so was probably the +first and last Englishman who has ever blessed a German Submarine. + +She recovered consciousness in Armitage's cabin, with the elderly lady +who had sung hymns in the boat in attendance; she lay wrapped in +blankets in the bunk, with hot-water bottles in great profusion all +round her, and felt deliciously drowsy and comfortable. But with +returning consciousness some corner of discomfort obtruded itself into +her mind. It grew more definite and uncomfortable. With her eyes +still closed Cecily wriggled faintly and plucked at an unfamiliar +garment. + +Then, slowly, she opened her eyes very wide. "What have I got on?" she +asked in severe tones. + +"My dear," said the elderly lady, "pyjamas! There was nothing else. +They belong to the officer who owns this cabin. I think the name was +Armitage. And the doctor said----" + +Cecily groaned. A knock sounded, and the ship's doctor entered +carrying something in a medicine glass. + +"Well," he asked brusquely, "how are we?" + +"Better, thanks," said Cecily faintly. + +"That's right. Drink this and close your eyes again." + +Cecily drank obediently and fell asleep. Twenty-four hours later the +Cruiser was moving slowly up a river to her berth alongside a wharf. +Cecily, clothed and in her right mind, stood aft in a deserted spot by +the ensign-staff and stared at the dingy warehouses and quaysides +ashore as they slid past. + +Armitage came across the deck towards her; Cecily saw him coming and +took a long breath. Then, woman-like, she spoke first: + +"I haven't had an opportunity to thank you yet," she said prettily, +"for giving up your cabin to me--and--and all your kindness." + +Armitage stood squarely in front of her, a big, kindly man who was +going to be badly hurt and more than half expected it. + +"There is a curious fatality about all this," he said. "It was no +kindness of either yours or mine." He glanced over her head at the +rapidly approaching wharf ahead and then at her face. + +"For eighteen months," he said, speaking rather quickly, "I've been +like the prophet Jonah--looking for a sign. I looked to you for it, +Miss Cecily," he said, "and I can't truthfully say it showed itself in +a single word or look or gesture." He took a deep breath. "I'm not +going to let you tell me I'm labouring under any misapprehensions. But +this"--he made a little comprehensive gesture--"this is too much like +the hand of Fate to disregard. Miss Cecily," he said, "little Miss +Cecily, you've just twisted your fingers round my heart and I can't +loose them." + +"Please," said Cecily, "ah, no, please don't...." Some irresponsible +imp in her intelligence made her want to tell him that it wasn't Jonah +who looked for a sign. + +"Listen," said Armitage. He was literally holding her before him by +the sheer strength of his kindly, compelling personality. "When this +racket started--this war--I told them at the Admiralty my age was +forty-five. It was a lie--I am fifty-two. I've knocked about the +world; I know men and cities and the places where there are neither. +But I've lived clean all my life and I was never gladder of it than I +am at this moment...." + +Cecily had a conviction that unless she could stop him she would have +to start crying very soon. But there were no words somehow that seemed +adequate to the situation. + +"I know, dear," he went on in his grave quiet voice, "that at your age +money, and all the things it buys, seem just empty folly. But, believe +me, there comes a time when being rich counts a lot towards happiness. +I'm not trying to dazzle you, but you know all mine is yours--you shall +live in Park Lane if you care to--or I'll turn all wide Scotland into a +deer forest for you to play in...." + +He paused. "But there is one thing, of course, that might make all +this sound vulgar and sordid." He considered her with his clear blue +eyes. "Are you in love with anyone else?" he asked. + +Cecily clutched recklessly at the alternative to absurd tears. + +"Yes," she said. + +Armitage stood quite still for a moment. His calm, direct gaze never +left her face, and after a moment he squared his big shoulders with an +abrupt, characteristic movement. + +"Then he is the luckiest man," he said quietly, "that ever won God's +most perfect gift." + +He gave her a funny stiff little inclination of the head and walked +away. + + * * * * * + +Otto von Sperrgebiet did not raise the periscope above the surface +again for some hours. The Submarine, entirely submerged, drove through +the water until night. After nightfall they travelled on the surface +until the first pale bars of dawn appeared in the eastern sky. Von +Sperrgebiet was on the conning-tower as soon as it was light, searching +the horizon with his glasses. + +"It is strange," he said to his Second-in-Command. "We ought to have +sighted that light vessel before now." At his bidding a sailor fetched +the lead line and took a sounding. Together they examined the tallow +at the bottom of the lead, and von Sperrgebiet made a prolonged +scrutiny of the chart. "H'm'm!" he said. "I don't understand." +Submerging again, they progressed at slow speed for some hours and he +took another sounding. The sky was overcast and no sights could be +taken. + +This time von Sperrgebiet returned from comparing the sounding with the +chart, wearing a distinctly worried expression. + +The hawk-eyed seaman beside him on the bridge gave an ejaculation and +pointed ahead. + +"Land, Herr Kapitan!" he said. + +"Fool!" replied his Captain. "Idiot! How can there be land there +unless"--he glanced inside the binnacle half contemptuously--"unless +the compasses are mad--or I am." + +He raised his glasses to stare at the horizon. "You are right," he +said. "You are right.... It is land." He gnawed his thumbnail as was +his habit when in perplexity. + +The next moment the seaman pointed again. "The Hunters," he said. + +Von Sperrgebiet gave one glance ahead and kicked the man down through +the open hatchway of the conning-tower. He himself followed, and the +hatch closed. The helmsman was standing, staring at the compass like a +man in a trance. + +"Herr Kapitan," he said, as von Sperrgebiet approached, "it is +bewitched." Indeed, he had grounds for consternation. The compass +card was spinning round like a kitten chasing its tail, first in one +direction, then in another. + +"Damn the compass!" said von Sperrgebiet. "Flood ballast tanks--depth +thirty metres--full speed ahead!" + +He thrust the helmsman aside and took the useless wheel himself. + +"Ludwig," he said, "to the periscope with you and tell me what you see." + +The Second-in-Command waited for no second bidding; he pressed his face +against the eye-pieces. "There are small vessels approaching very +swiftly from all sides," he said. And a moment later, "They are firing +at the periscope..." + +"Down with it," said von Sperrgebiet. "We must go blind if we are to +get through." His face was white and his lip curled back in a +perpetual snarl like a wolf at bay. As he spoke there was a splutter +and the lights went out. + +The voice of the Engineer sounded through the low doorway from the +engine-room. "There is something fouling our propeller, Herr Kapitan," +he shouted. "The engines are labouring at full speed, but we are +scarcely making any headway. The cut-outs have fused." + +Von Sperrgebiet cursed under his breath. "Stop the engines," he said. +"If we can't swim we must sink." He gave the necessary orders and the +boat dropped gradually through the water till she rested on the bottom. + +"Now," said von Sperrgebiet. "Turn on the gramophone, one of you, if +you can find it." + +There was a pause while someone fumbled in the darkness, and a click. +Then a metallic tune blared forth bravely from the unseen instrument. + +"That's right," said von Sperrgebiet in a low voice, speaking for the +last time. "'_Deutschland unter Alles!_'" His laugh was like the bark +of a sick dog. + + +Twenty fathoms over their heads, under the grey sky, and blown upon by +the strong salt wind, a large man in the uniform of a Lieutenant of the +Naval Reserve was standing in the bows of an Armed Trawler; his gaze +was fixed on something floating upon the surface of the water ahead; +but presently he raised his eyes to the circle of Armed Trawlers around +him riding lazily on the swell. In the rear of the gun in the bows of +each craft stood a little group of men all staring intently at the +floating object. The Lieutenant waved an arm to the nearest consort. + +"They reckon they'll take it lying down," he said grimly. "Well, I +don't blame 'em!" He nodded at the figure in the wheel-house. + +"Full speed, skipper!" The telegraph clinked, and they moved ahead, +slowly gathering way. Then the Reserve-man turned, facing aft. + +"Let her go, George," he said, raising his voice. The trawler fussed +ahead like a self-important hen that has laid an egg. There was a +violent upheaval in the water astern, and a column of foam and wreckage +leaped into the air with a deafening roar. + +The Reserve Lieutenant pulled a knife out of his pocket, and, bending +down, thoughtfully added another nick to a long row of notches in the +wooden beam of the trawler's fore hatch. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +SPELL-O! + +Lettigne sat on the edge of his sea-chest contemplating a large +fragment of a German shell which he held on his knees. + +"Will someone tell me where I am going to pack this interesting relic +of my blood-stained past?" he enquired of the flat at large. + +The after cabin-flat had all the appearances of the interior of a +homestead in imminent danger of occupation by an enemy. In front of +each open chest stood a Midshipman feverishly cramming boots and +garments into already bulging portmanteaux and kit-bags. The deck was +littered with rejected collars, pyjamas and underwear; golf-clubs, +cricket-bats and fishing-rods lay about in chaotic confusion. + +"Will someone tell me where I'm going to pack anything?" replied +Malison, delving into the inmost recesses of his chest. "Fancy being +told to pack and get away on leave and given an hour to do it in! It +isn't decent. It always takes me a week to find my gear." + +"Well, you'd better buck up," interposed the Senior Midshipman. "The +boat leaves in ten minutes." + +"Help!" ejaculated Lettigne. "I don't care," he added. "I'm not going +without my blinking trophy." He removed a pair of boots from the +interior of an apoplectic-looking kit-bag and substituted the jagged +piece of metal. "It weighs about half a ton, but it very nearly bagged +Little Willie, and I want my people to see it." He tugged and strained +at the straps. "Make 'em appreciate their little hopeful.... Ouf! +There! I only hope this yarn about there being no porters anywhere +isn't true." + +Harcourt, who had reduced the contents of his suit-case in volume by +the simple expedient of stamping on them, had finally succeeded in +closing the lid. + +"Never mind," he shouted. "What does anything matter so long's we're +'appy!" He brandished a cricket-bat and sang in his high, cracked +tenor: + + "Keep the home fires burning, + Oh, keep the home fires burning, + Keep the home fires burning...." + +"I dunno how it goes on," he concluded, lapsing into speech again. + +"_'Cos we're all going on leave!_" roared Matthews. "That's how it +ends. That's how everything ends. Ain't it all right?" He closed his +chest with a bang and sat on the top with his hands in his pockets, +drumming his heels against the sides. "Snooks!" he ejaculated, "I +haven't felt like this since I was a mere lad." + +"What are you going to do on leave?" queried the tall sandy-haired +Midshipman popularly known as "Wonk." + +"Do?" echoed Matthews. "Do?" He allowed his imagination full rein for +a moment. "Well," he said, "by way of a start I shall make my soldier +brother take me to dinner somewhere where there's a band and fairies in +low-necked dresses with diamond ta-rarras on their heads." + +"That sounds pretty dull," objected Mordaunt, affectionately burnishing +the head of a cleek with a bit of emery paper. "Is that all you're +going to do?" + +"Not 't all. After dinner I shall smoke a cigar--a mild one, you +know--and then we'll go to a 'Revoo' with more fairies. Lots of 'em," +he added ruminatingly, "skipping about like young stag-beetles--you +know the kind of thing----" The visionary got down off his chest, and, +plucking the sides of his monkey-jacket between finger and thumb, +pirouetted gracefully amid the scattered suit-cases and litter of +clothes. "Comme ca!" he concluded. + +"What then?" demanded Lettigne, growing interested. + +"Then," continued Matthews, "then we'll go and have supper +somewhere--oysters and things like that. Mushrooms, p'raps...." + +"With an actress, Matt?" asked a small Midshipman, known as "the White +Rabbit," in half-awed, half-incredulous tones of admiration. + +"P'raps," admitted the prospective man-about-town. "My brother knows +tons of 'em." + +Harcourt burst into shouts of delight. "Can't you see Matt?" he cried +hilariously. "Having supper with a massive actress!" He slapped his +thighs delightedly. "Matt swilling ginger ale and saying, 'You're 's' +dev'lish fine womansh.' ... No, don't start scrapping, Matt; I've just +put on a clean collar ... and it's got to last.... All right--_pax_, +then." + +"Well," said Matthews, when peace was restored. "What's everyone else +going to do? What are you going to do, Harcourt?" + +"Me and Mordy are going to attrapay the wily trout," was the reply. +"He's going to spend part of the leave with me, and I'm going to spend +part with him. We're going to clean out the pond at his place. +Topping rag." + +"And you, Wonk?" + +"Cricket," was the reply. "And strawberries. Chiefly strawberries." + +"What about you, Bosh?" + +"I shall lie in a hammock, and tell lies about the Navy to my sisters a +good deal of the time. And when I'm tired of that I shall just lie--in +the hammock. Sorry, I didn't mean to be funny----Ow! I swear it was +unintentional. Matt, I swear----" + +The furious jarring of an electric gong somewhere overhead drowned all +other sounds. + +"Boat's called away!" shouted the Senior Midshipman. "Up on deck, +everyone. Knock off scrapping, Bosh and Matt, or you'll be all adrift." + +There was a general scramble for bags and suit-cases, and, burdened +with their impedimenta, the Midshipmen made their way up on to the +quarterdeck. + +Thorogood, Officer of the Watch, was walking up and down with an +expression of bored resignation to the inevitable. Forward of the +after superstructure the liberty-men were falling-in in all the glory +of white cap-covers and brand-new suits, carrying little bundles in +their hands. There was on each man's countenance that curious blend of +solemnity and ecstatic anticipation only to be read in the face of a +bluejacket or marine about to start on long leave. + +A group of officers gathering near the after gangway stood waiting for +the boat and exchanging chaff customary to such an occasion. + +"Here come the Snotties," said the Staff Surgeon. "Lord, I wish I had +a gramophone to record their conversation outside my cabin while they +were packing." He raised his voice. "Now, then, James, what about +this boat? We shall miss the train if you keep us all hanging about +here much longer. Some of us have got appointments in town we don't +want to miss--haven't we, Matthews?" + +The Midshipman thus suddenly addressed flushed and was instantly the +target for his companions' humour. "That's right, sir," confirmed +Lettigne maliciously. "Matthews is taking a real live actress out to +supper to-morrow night." + +"Smoking a mild cigar," added another. "And eating oysters and +mushrooms," chimed in a third. + +Thorogood walked towards the group of laughing, chaffing boys and men. + +"She won't be long, now," he said. "You'll all catch the train; I can +promise you that." + +He smiled wanly. + +"James," said the India-rubber Man, "don't look so miserable! I know +how sorry you are for us all. But we're going through with it, old +man, like Britons." + +"That's right," agreed the Paymaster. "We shall think of you, James, +and the Commander, and the P.M.O., and all our happy messmates who are +staying onboard for the refit. It makes going on leave easier to bear +when we think of your smiling faces." + +Thorogood turned away. "You're funny little fellows, aren't you?" he +said dourly. + +The Young Doctor caught the ball and sent it rolling on. + +"We shall think of the pneumatic riveter at work over your heads; we +shall think of the blithe chatter of the dockyard maties all over the +ship, and the smell of the stuff they stick the corticene down with ... +and we shall face the sad days ahead of us with renewed courage, James, +old man." + +"Thank you all," replied Thorogood gravely. "Thank you for your +beautiful words. Give my love to Mouldy if any of you see him"--the +speaker glanced over the side. "And now I have much pleasure in +informing you that the boat is alongside, and the sooner you all get +into it the sooner to sleep, as the song says." + +The Midshipmen were already scrambling down the ladder, carrying their +bags and coats, and the Wardroom Officers followed. Farewells and +parting shafts of humour floated up from the sternsheets; Thorogood +stood at the top of the gangway and waved adieu with his telescope as +the boat shoved off and circled round the stern towards the +landing-place. For a moment he stood looking after the smiling faces +and waving caps and then turned inboard with a sigh. + +"Liberty men present, sir!" The Master-at-Arms and Sergeant-Major made +their reports and Thorogood moved forward, passing briskly down the +lanes of motionless figures and shiny, cheerful countenances. + +"Carry on," he said, and acknowledged the salute of the Chief of Police +and the Sergeant of Marines. + +The men filed over the side and took their places in the boats waiting +alongside, and as they sheered off from the ship in tow of the launch +and followed in the wake of the distant picket-boat, the closely packed +men suddenly broke into a tempest of cheering. + +The Captain was walking up and down the quarterdeck talking to the +Commander. He smiled as the tumult of sound floated across the water. + +"I wonder they managed to bottle it up as long as they have," he said. +"Bless 'em! They've earned their drop of leave if ever men did." They +took a few turns in silence. "I hope to get away to-night," continued +the Captain, "if they put us in dock this afternoon. When are you +going for your leave, Hornby?" + +The Commander ran his eye over the superstructure and rigging of the +foremast. "Oh, I don't know, sir," he said. "I hadn't thought about +it much.... I think I'll get that new purchase for the fore-derrick +rove to-morrow...." + +The colour had gone out of the sunset, and in the pale green sky at the +head of the valley a single star appeared. + +With the approach of dusk the noises of the river multiplied; a score +of liquid voices seemed to blend into the sleepy murmur of sounds that +babbled drowsily among the rocks and boulders, and was swallowed +beneath the overhanging branches of the trees. + +The India-rubber Man moved quietly down stream, scarcely +distinguishable from the gathering shadows by the riverside; he carried +a light fly-rod, and once or twice he stopped, puffing the briar pipe +between his teeth, to stare intently at the olive-hued water eddying +past. + +"Coo-ee!" + +A faint call floated up the valley, clear and musical above the voices +of the stream. The India-rubber Man raised his head abruptly and a +little smile flitted across his face. Then he raised his hand to his +mouth and sent the answer ringing down-stream: + +"Coo-oo-ee-e!" + +He stood motionless in an attitude of listening and the hail was +repeated. + + "Sunset and evening star," + +he quoted in an undertone, + + "And one clear call for me...." + + +There had been a period in his life some years earlier when the +India-rubber Man discovered poetry. For months he read greedily and +indiscriminately, and then, abruptly as it came, the fit passed; but +tags of favourite lines remained in his memory, and the rhythm of +running water invariably set them drumming in his ears. + +He turned his back on the whispering river and, scrambling up the bank, +made his way down-stream through the myriad scents and signs of another +summer evening returning to its peace. The path wound through a +plantation of young firs which grew fewer as he advanced, and presently +gave glimpses beyond the tree-trunks of a wide stretch of open turf. +The river, meeting a high wall of rock, swung round noiselessly almost +at right angles to its former course; in the centre of the ground thus +enclosed stood a weather-beaten tent, and close by lay a small +two-wheeled cart with its shafts in the air. + +The India-rubber Man paused for a moment on the fringe of the +plantation and stood taking in the quiet scene. The shadowy outline of +a grazing donkey moved slowly across the turf which narrowed to a +single spit of sand, and here, standing upright with her hands at her +sides, was the motionless figure of a girl, staring up the river. +Something in her attitude stirred a poignant little memory in the mind +of the India-rubber Man. In spite of his nearness he still remained +invisible to her against the background of the darkling wood. + +"Betty!" he called. + +For an instant she stared and then came towards him, moving swiftly +with her lithe, ineffable grace. + +"Oh," she cried, "there you are!" She slid her fingers into his +disengaged hand and fell into step beside him. "Bunje," she said with +a little laugh that was half a sigh, "I'm like an old hen with one +chick--I can hardly bear you out of my sight! Have you had good +hunting? What was the evening rise like?" + +"It was good," replied the India-rubber Man. "But it was better still +to hear you call." + +They came to a tall bush where the blossoms of a wild rose glimmered in +the dusk like moths. The India-rubber Man stabbed the butt of his rod +in the turf, took off his cast-entwined deerstalker and hung it on a +bramble; then he slipped the strap of his creel over his head and +emptied the contents on to the grass. + +"Five," he said, counting. They knelt beside the golden trout and laid +them in a row. "I could have taken more," he added, "but that's all we +want for breakfast. Besides, it was too nice an evening to go on +killing things.... Sort of peaceful. That's a nice one, though, that +pounder. He fancied a coachman..." The India-rubber Man straightened +up and sniffed the evening air aromatic with the scent of burning wood. +"And I've got a sort of feeling I could fancy something, Bet----" + +Betty rose too. "It's ready," she said. "I've put the table in the +hollow behind the bush. I've got a surprise for you--'will you walk +into my parlour? said the spider to the fly.'" + +She led the way into the hollow. A brazier of burning logs stood on +the side nearest the river, with a saucepan simmering upon it. Close +under the wild-rose bush was a folding table covered with a +blue-and-white cloth laid in readiness for a meal, with a camp stool on +either side. From an overhanging branch dangled a paper Japanese +lantern, glowing in the blue dusk like a jewel. + +"You're a witch, Betty," said the India-rubber Man. "Where did you get +the lantern?" + +"At that village we passed through yesterday. It was a surprise for +you!" She made a little obeisance on the threshold of their star-lit +dining-room. "Will it please my lord to be seated?" she asked +prettily, and bending down busied herself amid the ashes underneath the +brazier. "There's grilled trout and stewed bunny-rabbit," she added, +speaking over her shoulder. + +"Good enough," said her lord. "Sit down, Bet, I'm going to do the +waiting." Betty laughed. "I don't mind this sort of waiting," she +replied. "It's the other kind that grew so wearisome." + +They made their meal while a bat, attracted by the white cloth, +flickered overhead, and the shadows closed in round them, deepening +into night. When the last morsel of food had vanished the India-rubber +Man turned sideways on his stool to light a pipe, and by the light of +the match they stared at one another with a sudden fresh realisation of +their present happiness and the fullness thereof. + +"Isn't it good?" said Betty. "Isn't it worth almost anything to have +this peace?" She made a little gesture, embracing the scented quiet. +"And just us two ... alone." + +The India-rubber Man tossed the match on to the turf where it burned +steadily in a little circle of warm light. + +"Yes," he said. "Just us two ... Hark, Betty!" He held up his finger. + +For a moment they listened to the infinitesimal noises of the night, +straining their ears in the stillness. The river wound past them with +a faint, sibilant sound like a child chuckling in its sleep; an owl +hooted somewhere in the far-off sanctuary of the trees. Betty drew her +breath with a little sigh that was no louder than the rustle of the +bat's wings overhead. The match burning on the grass beside them +flared suddenly and went out. + +"You know," said the India-rubber Man presently, "I was thinking +to-night--up there, along the river--how good it all is, this little +old England of ours. I sat on a big boulder and watched a child in the +distance driving some cows across a meadow to be milked.... There +wasn't a leaf stirring, and the only sounds were the sleepy noises of +the river.... It was all just too utterly peaceful and good." The +India-rubber Man puffed his pipe in silence for a moment. "It struck +me then," he went on in his slow, even tones, "that any price we can +pay--any amount of sacrifice, hardship, discomfort--is nothing as long +as we keep this quiet peace undisturbed...." Again he lapsed into +silence, as if following some deep train of thought; the sound of the +donkey cropping the grass came from the other side of the bush. + +"One doesn't think about it in that way--up there," he jerked his head +towards the North. "You just do your job for the job's sake, as one +does in peace-time. Even the fellows who die, die as if it all came in +the day's work." His mind reverted to its original line of thought. +"But even dying is a little thing as long as all this is undefiled." +He smoked in silence for a minute. + +"Death!" he continued jerkily, as if feeling for his ideas at an +unaccustomed depth. "I've seen so much of Death, Betty: in every sort +of guise and disguise, and I'm not sure that he isn't only the biggest +impostor, really. A bogie to frighten happiness.... A turnip-mask +with a candle inside, stuck up just round some corner along the road of +life." + +"You never know which corner it is, though," said Betty. She nodded +her head like a wise child. "That's why it's frightening--sometimes." + +For a while longer they talked with their elbows on the table and their +faces very close, exchanging those commonplace yet intimate scraps of +philosophy which only two can share. Then the India-rubber Man fetched +a pail of water from the river, and together they washed up. + +"I met Clavering away up the river this evening," he said presently. +"He said they'd come down after supper and bring the banjo," and as he +spoke they heard the murmur of voices along the river bank. Two +figures loomed up out of the darkness and entered the circle of light +from the brazier. + +"Good hunting!" said a girl's clear voice. "Garry was feeling +musically inclined, and so we brought the Joe with us." + +The India-rubber Man returned from the direction of the tent, carrying +rugs and coats which he proceeded to spread on the ground. + +"We're pushing on to-morrow," continued Clavering's deep voice. "There +are some lakes in the hills we want to reach while this fine weather +lasts. What are your movements, Standish? Keep somewhere near us, so +that we can have our sing-songs of an evening sometimes." + +"We'll follow," replied the India-rubber Man. "Nebuchadnezzar ought to +have a day's rest to-morrow, and then we'll pick up the trail. Your +old caravan oughtn't to be difficult to trace. Did you do any good on +the river this evening...?" + +They settled down among the rugs, and for a while the conversation ran +on the day's doings. Then Etta Clavering drew her banjo from its case. +"What shall we have?" she asked, fingering the strings: and without +further pause she struck a few opening chords and began in her musical +contralto: + + "Under the wide and starry sky..." + +The slow, haunting melody floated out into the night, and Betty, seated +beside her husband, felt his hand close firmly over hers as it rested +among the folds of the rug. The warm glow of the fire lit the faces of +the quartette and the white throat of the singer. + + "Home is the sailor, home from sea, + And the hunter home from the hill..." + + +The last notes died away, and before anyone could speak the banjo broke +out into a gay jingle, succeeded in turn by an old familiar ballad in +which they all joined. Then Clavering cleared his throat and in his +deep baritone sang: + + "Sing me a song of a lad that is gone + Over the hills to Skye," + + +A few coon songs followed, with the four voices, contralto and +baritone, tenor and soprano, blending in harmony. Then Etta Clavering +drew her fingers across the strings and declared it was time for bed. + +"One more," pleaded Betty. "Just one more. You two sing." + +Etta Clavering turned her head and eyed her husband; her eyes glittered +in the starlight and there was a gleam of white teeth as she smiled. +She tentatively thrummed a few chords. + +"Shall we, Garry?" + +Her husband nodded. "Yes," he said, "that one." He took his pipe from +his mouth. "Go ahead...." + +So together they sang "Friendship," that perfection of old-world +romance which is beyond all art in its utter simplicity. + +The banjo was restored to its case at length, and the singers rose to +depart. Farewells were exchanged and plans for the future, while the +four strolled together to the edge of the woods. + +"Well," said Clavering, "we shall see you again the day after +to-morrow, with any luck." + +Etta Clavering turned towards Betty. "Isn't it nice to dare to look +ahead as far as that?" she asked with a little smile. "Fancy! The day +after to-morrow! Good night--good night!" + +Betty and the India-rubber Man stood looking after them until they were +swallowed by the darkness. Then he placed his arm round his wife's +shoulders, and together they retraced their steps across the clearing +towards the tent. + + * * * * * + +"This is the place," said the Young Doctor. He piloted his companion +aside from the throng of Regent Street traffic and turned in at a +narrow doorway. Pushing open a swing door that bore on its glass +panels the inscription "MEMBERS ONLY," he motioned the First Lieutenant +up a flight of stairs. "You wait till you get to the top, Number One," +he said, "you'll forget you're ashore." + +"Thank you," said the First Lieutenant as they ascended, "but I don't +know that I altogether want to forget it." + +They had reached the threshold of a small ante-room hung about with +war-trophies and crowded with Naval officers. The majority were +standing about chatting eagerly in twos and threes, while a girl with a +tray of glasses steered a devious course through the crush and took or +fulfilled orders. Through an open doorway beyond they caught a glimpse +of more uniformed figures, and the tobacco-laden air hummed with +Navy-talk and laughter. + +The Young Doctor hung his cap and stick on the end of the banisters and +elbowed his way to the doorway, exchanging greetings with acquaintances. + +"Come in here," he said over his shoulder to the First Lieutenant, "and +let's see if there's anyone from the ship--hullo! I didn't expect to +see this----" He made a gesture towards the empty fireplace. There, +seated upon the club-fender, with his right hand in his trousers pocket +and his expression of habitual gloom upon his countenance, sat Mouldy +Jakes. His left sleeve hung empty at his side, and from the breast of +a conspicuously new-looking monkey-jacket protruded a splint swathed +about in bandages. A newly-healed scar showed pink across his scalp. + +A laughing semi-circle sat round apparently in the enjoyment of some +anecdote just concluded. A Submarine Commander of almost legendary +fame stood by the fender examining something in a little morocco case. +Mouldy Jakes turned a melancholy eye upon the newcomers. + +"More of 'em," he said in tones of dull despair. "What d'you +want--Martini or Manhattan?" + +"Martini," replied the Young Doctor, advancing, "both of us; but why +this reckless hospitality, Mouldy? Are you celebrating an escape from +the nursing home?" + +The Submarine man closed the case with a little snap and handed it back +to Mouldy Jakes. + +"We're just celebrating Mouldy's acquisition of that bauble," he +explained. "He's been having the time of his life at Buckingham Palace +all the morning." + +"Not 'arf," confirmed the hero modestly. "Proper day-off, I've been +having!" He raised his voice. "Two more Martinis an' another plain +soda, please, Bobby." + +The First Lieutenant laughed. + +"Who's the soda water for--me?" + +Mouldy shook his head lugubriously. + +"No," he replied, "me. There was another bird there this morning being +lushed up to a bar to his D.S.O.--an R.N.R. Lieutenant called Gedge. +What you'd call a broth of a boy. We had lunch together afterwards." +The speaker sighed heavily and passed his hand across his forehead. "I +think we must have had tea too," he added meditatively. + +The Young Doctor looked round the laughing circle of faces. "Where is +he? Did you bring him along with you?" + +Mouldy Jakes shook his head and reached out for his soda water. "No +... he went to sleep...." + +The Young Doctor sat down on the fender beside the speaker. "How's the +hand getting on, old lad?" + +"Nicely, what's left of it. They let me out without a keeper now. Had +a good leave? When d'you go back?" + +"To-morrow," replied the First Lieutenant with a sigh. "Buck up and +get well again, Mouldy, and come back to us. We're all going North +to-morrow night, Gerrard and Tweedledum, and Pills here ... and all the +rest of 'em. You'd better join up with the party!" He spoke in gently +chaffing, affectionate tones. "I don't think we can spare you, old +Sunny Jim." + +"No," said Mouldy Jakes dryly; "but unfortunately that's what the +rotten doctors say." He rose to his feet and extended his uninjured +hand, "S'long, Number One! I've got to get back to my old nursing home +or I'll find myself on the mat.... S'long, Pills. Give 'em all my +love, and tell 'em I'm coming back all right when the plumbers have +finished with me." He stopped at the doorway and turned, facing the +group round the fireplace. + +"I guess you couldn't do without your Little Ray of Sunshine!" His wry +smile flitted across his solemn countenance and the next moment he was +gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +INTO THE WAY OF PEACE + +The King's Messenger thrust a bundle of sealed envelopes into his black +leather despatch-case and closed the lock with a snap. + +"Any orders?" he asked. "I go North at eleven to-night." + +The civilian clerk seated at the desk in the dusty Whitehall office +leaned back in his chair and passed his hand over his face. He looked +tired and pallid with overwork and lack of exercise. + +"Yes," he said, and searched among the papers with which the desk was +littered. "There was a telephone message just now----" He found and +consulted some pencilled memoranda. "You are to call at Sir William +Thorogood's house at nine o'clock. There may be a letter or a message +for you to take up to the Commander-in-Chief." The speaker picked up a +paper-knife and examined it with the air of one who saw a paper-knife +for the first time and found it on the whole disappointing. "The Sea +Lords are dining there," he added after a pause. + +The King's Messenger was staring through the window into the well of a +dingy courtyard. He received his instructions with a rather absent nod +of the head. + +"The house," continued the civilian in his colourless tones, "is in +Queen Anne's Gate, number----" + +"I know the house," said the King's Messenger quietly. He turned and +looked at the clock. "Is that all?" he asked. "If so, I'll go along +there now." + +"That's all," replied the other, and busied himself with his papers. +"Good night." + +Despatch-case in hand, d'Auvergne, the King's Messenger, emerged from +the Admiralty by one of the small doors opening on to the Mall. He +paused on the step for a moment, meditating. The policeman on duty +touched his helmet. + +"Taxi, sir?" + +"No, thanks," replied d'Auvergne. "I think I'll walk; I've not far to +go." + +Dusk was settling down over the city as he turned off into St. James's +Park, but the afterglow of the sunset still lingered above the Palace +and in the soft half-light the trees and lawns held to their vivid +green. A few early lamps shone with steady brilliance beyond the +foliage. + +On one of the benches sat a khaki-clad soldier and a girl, +hand-in-hand; they stared before them unsmiling, in ineffable +speechless contentment. The King's Messenger glanced at the pair as he +limped past, and for an instant the girl's eyes met his +disinterestedly; they were large round eyes of china blue, limpid with +happiness. + +The passer-by smiled a trifle grimly. "Bless 'em!" he said to himself +in an undertone. "They don't care if it snows ink.... And all the +world's their garden...." + +Podgie d'Auvergne had fallen into a habit of talking aloud to himself. +It is a peculiarity of men given to introspective thought who spend +much time alone. Since the wound early in the war that cost him the +loss of a foot he had found himself very much alone, though the role of +"Cat that walked by Itself" was of his own choosing. It is perhaps the +inevitable working of the fighting male's instinct, once maimed +irrevocably, to walk thenceforward a little apart from his +fellows--that gay company of two-eyed, two-legged, two-armed favourites +of Fate for whom the world was made. + +For a while he pursued the train of thought started by the lovers on +the bench. The distant noises of the huge city filled his ears with a +murmur like a far-off sea, and abruptly, all unbidden, Hope the +Inextinguishable flamed up within him. Winged fancy soared and flitted +above the conflagration. + +"But supposing," said Podgie d'Auvergne to the pebbles underfoot, +returning to his hurt like a sow to her wallow, "supposing I was +sitting there with her on that seat and some fellow came along and +insulted her!" He considered unhinging possibilities with a brow of +thunder. "Damn it!" said the King's Messenger, "I couldn't even thrash +the blighter." + +He made a fierce pass in the air with his walking-stick, dispelling +imaginary Apaches, and brought himself under the observation of a +policeman in Birdcage Walk. + +"Any way, I'm not likely to find myself sitting on a bench with her in +St. James's Park, or anywhere else," concluded the soliloquist. High +Fancy, with scorched wings, fluttered down to mundane levels. + +He turned into Queen Anne's Gate, but on the steps leading up to the +once familiar door he paused and looked up at the front of the old +house. + +"That's her window," said the King's Messenger, and added sternly, "but +I'm here on duty, and even if she----" He rang the bell and stood +listening to the preposterous thumping of his heart. + +The door opened while he was framing an imaginary sentence that had +nothing to do with the duty in hand. + +"Hullo, Haines!" he said. "Where's Sir William?" + +The old butler peered at the visitor irresolutely for an instant. + +"Why," he said, "Mr. d'Auvergne, sir, you're a stranger! For a moment +I didn't recognise you standing out on the doorstep----" + +The visitor crossed the threshold and was relieved of cap and stick. + +"Sir William said an officer from the Admiralty would call at nine, +sir; but he didn't mention no name, and I was to show you into the +library. Sir William is still up in the laboratory, sir"--the butler +lowered his voice to a confidential undertone--"with all the Naval +gentlemen that was dining here--their Lordships, sir." He turned as he +spoke and led the way across the hall. "It's a long time since you was +last here, sir, if I may say so----" There was the faintest tone of +reproach in the old servitor's tones. "I dare say you'll be forgetting +your way about the house." The butler stopped at a door. "This way, +sir--Miss Cecily's in here----" + +The King's Messenger halted abruptly, as panic-stricken a young +gentleman as ever wore the King's uniform. + +"Haines!" he said. "No! Not--not that room. I'll wait--I----" But +the old man had opened the door and stood aside to allow the visitor to +enter. + +D'Auvergne drew a deep breath and stepped forward. As he did so, the +butler spoke again. + +"Lieutenant d'Auvergne, Miss," he said, and quietly closed the door. + +Save for the light from a shaded electric reading-lamp by the fireplace +the big room was in shadow. A handful of peat smouldered on the wide +brick hearth and mingled its faint aroma with the scent of roses. + +An instant's silence was followed by the rustle of silk, and a +white-clad form rose from a low arm-chair beside the reading-lamp. + +"I seem to remember the name," said Cecily in her clear, sweet tones, +"but you're in the shadow. Can you find the switch ... by the door..." +An odd, breathless note had caught up in her voice. + +The King's Messenger laid the black despatch bag he still carried on a +chair by the door and limped towards her across the carpet. + +"I don't think the light would help matters much," he said quietly. +"I'm generally grateful for the dark." + +"Ah, Tony ..." said the girl, as if he had countered with a weapon +that somehow wasn't quite fair. "Come and sit down. We'll leave the +lights for a bit, and then we needn't draw the curtains: it's such a +perfect evening." She spoke quite naturally now, standing by the side +of the wide fireplace with one hand resting on the mantel. The soft +evening air strayed in at the open windows, and the little pile of +aromatic embers on the hearth glowed suddenly. + +The King's Messenger sat down on the arm of the vacant chair, and +looked up at her as she stood in all her fair loveliness against the +dark panelling. He opened his lips as if to speak, and then apparently +thought better of it. The girl met his gaze a little curiously, as if +waiting for some explanation; none apparently being forthcoming she +shouldered the responsibility for the conversation. + +"I'm all alone," she explained, "because Uncle Bill is up in the +laboratory. The air's full of mystery, too; there are five Admirals up +there, and one's a perfect dear..." Cecily paused for breath. "His +eyes go all crinkley when he smiles," she continued. + +"Lots of people's do," conceded the visitor. + +Cecily shot him a swift glance and looked away again. + +"He smiled a good deal," she continued musingly. "And Uncle Bill's +awfully thrilled about something. He was up all night fussing in the +laboratory, and when he came down to breakfast this morning he hit his +egg on the head as if it had been a German and said, '_Got_ it!'" + +The King's Messenger nodded sapiently, as if these unusual occurrences +held no mystery for him. Silence fell upon the room again: from a +clock tower in Westminster came the clear notes of a bell striking the +hour. The sound seemed to remind the visitor of something. + +"I was told to come here," he announced suddenly, as if answering a +question that the silence held. + +The white-clad figure stiffened. + +"_Told_ to!" echoed Cecily. "May I ask----" + +"They told me at the Admiralty," explained Simple Simon, the King's +Messenger, "I was to call for despatches." + +"Oh..." said Cecily, nodding her fair head, "I _see_. I confess I was +a little puzzled ... but that explains ... and it was War-time, and you +couldn't very well refuse, could you?" She surveyed him mercilessly. +"They shoot people who refuse to obey orders in War-time, don't +they--however distasteful or unpleasant the orders may be? You just +had to come, in fact, or be shot ... was that it?" + +The victim winced. + +"You don't understand," he began miserably. "There's a very +important----" + +Cecily interrupted with a little laugh. + +"Oh, dear, oh, dear! Tony, if you're going to begin to talk about +important matters"--the white hands made a little gesture in the +gloom--"why, of course, I couldn't understand. And I'm quite sure they +wouldn't ask you to do anything that wasn't really important.... Oh, +Tony, you must have had a lot of _terribly_ important things to do +during the last two years: so many that you haven't had time to look up +your old friends, or--or answer their silly letters even ... at least," +added Cecily, "so I've heard from people who--knew you well once upon a +time." + +The King's Messenger rose to his feet and began to walk slowly to and +fro with his hands behind his back. Cecily watched the halting step of +the man who three years before had been the hero of the Naval +Rugby-football world, and found his outline grow suddenly misty. + +"Listen," he said quietly. "I've got to tell you something. It's +something I'd have rather not had to talk about.... And I don't know +whether you'll altogether understand, because you're a woman, and +women----" + +"I know," said Cecily quickly. "They're just a pack of silly geese, +aren't they, Tony? They've no intuition or sympathy or power of +understanding.... They only want to be left in peace and not bothered +or have their feelings harrowed.... They're incapable of sharing +another's disappointment or sorrow, or of easing a burden or--or +anything...." + +The speaker broke off and crossed swiftly to the vacated chair. For a +moment she searched for something among the cushions and, having found +it, stepped to the window and stood with her back to the visitor, +apparently contemplating the blue dusk deepening into night. + +The King's Messenger stopped and stared at her graceful form outlined +against the window. Then he took one step towards her and halted +again. Cecily continued to be absorbed in the row of lights gleaming +like fireflies beyond the Park. + +"Cecily," he began, and let his mind return to an earlier train of +thought. "Supposing that I--that you were going for a walk with me." + +"We'll suppose it," said Cecily. "I've an idea it has happened before. +But we'll suppose it actually happened again." + +"I walk very slowly nowadays," added the King's Messenger. + +Cecily amended the hypothesis. + +"We'll suppose we were going for a slow walk," she said. + +"I can't walk very far, either." + +"A short, slow walk." + +"And supposing," continued the theorist in sepulchral tones, with his +hands still behind his back, "supposing some fellow came along +and--well, and said 'Yah! Boo!' to you--or--or something like that. +Cecily--would you despise me if I couldn't--er--run after him and kick +him?" + +Cecily turned swiftly. "Yah! Boo!" she ejaculated. "_Yah_! _Boo_! +Oh, Tony, how thrilling! I'd say 'Pip! Pip!'" + +She, too, had her hands behind her, and stood with her head a little on +one side regarding him. Her face was in shadow, and he saw none of the +tender mirth in her eyes. "Would you let me say 'Pip! Pip!' to a +perfect stranger, Tony?--and me walking-out with you!" + +"_Let_ you!" he said with a sort of laugh like a gasp and stepped +towards her. + +For an instant Fear peeped out of the two windows of her soul, and she +swiftly raised her hands as if to fend off the inevitable. But the +King's Messenger was swifter still and had them imprisoned, crumpled in +his somewhere between their galloping hearts. + +"My dear," he said, "my dear, I love you!" + +Her head dropped back in the shelter of his arm, and she searched his +face with eyes like a Madonna on the Judgment Seat. + +"I know," she said softly, and surrendered lips and soul as a child +gives itself to Sleep. + +Through the closed door came the muffled sound of voices in the hall. +Uncle Bill was talking in tones that were, for him, unusually loud. +Someone fumbling at the handle of the door appeared to be experiencing +some difficulty in opening it. + +Cecily, released, turned to the window like a white flash and buried +her hot face among the roses. The King's Messenger remained where he +stood, motionless. + +Slowly the door opened, letting in the murmur of voices. Uncle Bill +had his hand on the knob and stood with his shoulder turned to the +interior of the room, apparently listening to something one of his +guests was saying. + +In the lighted hall beyond, d'Auvergne caught a glimpse of Naval +uniforms and white shirt-fronts. + +"... It ought to go a little way towards 'confounding their knavish +tricks,'" a man's deep voice was saying. + +"Yes," said Sir William. He turned as he spoke and took in the +occupants of the room with a swift, keen glance. 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