Men, Women and Guns Part 14

"Heavens! old boy; I'm as nervous as an ugly girl at her first party."

They were pa.s.sing into the street. "My hands are clammy and my boots are bursting with feet."

"I don't mind about your boots; but for goodness' sake dry your hands.

No self-respecting woman would look at a man with perspiring palms."

Ten minutes later three pairs of people might have been seen strolling up and down the Promenade. And as the arrangement of those pairs was entirely due to the navigating lieutenant, their composition is perhaps worthy of a paragraph. At one end, as was very right and proper, Jerry and Miss Honks discussed men and matters--at least, I a.s.sume so--with a zest that seemed to show his nervousness was only transient. In the middle the stage-manager and Mrs. Honks discussed Society, with a capital "S"--a subject of which the worthy woman knew nothing and talked a lot. At the other end Mr. Honks poured into the unresponsive ear of an infuriated Prussian n.o.bleman his new scheme for cornering sausages.

Which shows what a naval officer can do when he gets down to it.

Now, it is certainly not my intention to recount in detail the course of Jerry Travers's love affair during his stay on the Riviera. Sufficient to say, it did not run smoothly. But there are one or two things which I must relate--things which concern our three princ.i.p.als. They cover the first round in the contest--the round which the German won on points.

And though they have no actual bearing on the strange happenings which brought about the second and last round, in circ.u.mstances nothing short of miraculous at a future date, yet for the proper understanding of the retribution that came upon the Hun at the finish it is well that they should be told.

They occurred that same evening, at the ball given by the British Navy on the flags.h.i.+p. Few sights, I venture to think, are more imposing, and to a certain extent more incongruous, than a battles.h.i.+p in gala mood.

For days beforehand, men skilled in electricity erect with painstaking care a veritable fairyland of coloured lights, which s.h.i.+ne softly on the deck cleared for dancing, and discreet kala juggers prepared with equal care by officers skilled in love. Everywhere there is peace and luxury; the music of the band steals across the silent water; the engine of death is at rest. Almost can one imagine the mighty turbines, the great guns, the whole infernal paraphernalia of destruction, laughing grimly at their master's amus.e.m.e.nts--those masters whose brains forged them and riveted them and gave them birth; who with the pressure of a finger can launch five tons of death at a speck ten miles away; whose lightest caprice they are bound to obey--and yet who now cover them with flimsy silks and fairy lights, while they dance and make love to laughing, soft-eyed girls. And perhaps there was some such idea in the gunnery-lieutenant's mind as he leant against the breech of a twelve-inch gun, waiting for his particular guest. "Not yet, old man,"

he muttered thoughtfully--"not yet. To-night we play; to-morrow--who knows?"

Above, the lights shone out unshaded, silhouetting the battle-cruiser with lines of fire against the vault of heaven, sprinkled with the golden dust of a myriad stars; while ceaselessly across the violet water steam-pinnaces dashed backwards and forwards, carrying boatloads of guests from the landing-stage, and then going back for more. At the top of the gangway the admiral, immaculate in blue and gold, welcomed them as they arrived; the flag-lieutenant, with the weight of much responsibility on his shoulders, having just completed a last lightning tour of the s.h.i.+p, only to discover a scarcity of hairpins in the ladies' cloak-room, stood behind him. And in the wardroom the engineer-commander--a Scotsman of pessimistic outlook--reviled with impartiality all ball dances, adding a special clause for the one now commencing. But then, off duty, he had no soul above bridge.

In this setting, then, appeared the starters for the Honks stakes on the night in question, only, for the time being, the positions were reversed. Now the Baron was the stranger in a strange land; Jerry was at home--one of the hosts. Moreover, as has already been discreetly hinted, there was a certain and very particular kala jugger. And into this very particular kala jugger Jerry, in due course, piloted his adored one.

I am now coming to the region of imagination. I was not in that dim-lit nook with them, and therefore I am not in a position to state with any accuracy what occurred. But--and here I must be discreet--there was a mids.h.i.+pman, making up in cheek and inquisitiveness what he lacked in years and stature. Also, as I have said, the Honks stakes were not a private matter--far from it. The prestige of the British Navy was at stake, and betting ran high in the gunroom, or abode of "snotties."

Where this young imp of mischief hid, I know not; he swore himself that his overhearing was purely accidental, and endeavoured to excuse his lamentable conduct by saying that he learned a lot!

His account of the engagement was breezy and nautical; and as there is, so far as I know, no other description of the operations extant, I give it for what it is worth.

Jerry, he told me in the Union Club, Valetta, at a later date, opened the action with some tentative shots from his lighter armament. For ten minutes odd he alternately Honked and Maisied, till, as my ribald informant put it, the deck rang with noises reminiscent of a jibbing motor-car. She countered ably with rhapsodies over the s.h.i.+p, the band, and life in general, utterly refusing to be drawn into personalities.

Then, it appeared, Jerry's self-control completely deserted him, and with a hoa.r.s.e and throaty noise he opened fire with the full force of his starboard broadside; he rammed down the loud pedal and let drive.

He a.s.sured her that she was the only woman he could ever love; he seized her ungloved hand and fervently kissed it; in short, he offered her his hand and heart in the most approved style, the while protesting his absolute unworthiness to aspire to such an honour as her acceptance of the same.

"Net result, old dear," murmured my graceless informant, pressing the bell for another c.o.c.ktail, "nix--a frost absolute, a frost complete."

"She thought he and the whole s.h.i.+p were bully, and wasn't that little boy who'd brought them out in the launch the cutest ever, but she reckoned sailors cut no ice with poppa. She was just too sorry for words it had ever occurred, but there it was, and there was nothing more to be said."

For the truth of these statements I will not vouch. I do know that on the night in question Jerry was refused by the only woman he'd ever really cared about, because he told me so, and the method of it is of little account. And if there be any who may think I have dealt with this tragedy in an unfeeling way, I must plead in excuse that I have but quoted my informant, and he was one of those in the gunroom who had lost money on the event.

Anyway, let me, as a sop to the serious-minded, pa.s.s on to the other little event which I must chronicle before I come to my finale. In this world the serious and the gay, the tears and the laughter, come to us out of the great scroll of fate in strange, jumbled succession. The lucky dip at a bazaar holds no more variegated procession of surprises than the mix up we call life brings to each and all. And so, though my tone in describing Jerry's proposal has perhaps been wantonly flippant, and though the next incident may seem to some to savour of melodrama--yet, is it not life, my masters, is it not life?

I was in the wardroom when it occurred. Jerry, standing by the fireplace, was smoking a cigarette, and looking like the proverbial gentleman who has lost a sovereign and found sixpence. There were several officers in there at the time, and--the Baron von Dressler. And the Prussian had been drinking.

Not that he was by any means drunk, but he was in that condition when some men become merry, some confidential, some--what shall I say?--not exactly pugnacious, but on the way to it. He belonged to the latter cla.s.s. All the worst traits of the Prussian officer, the domineering, sneering, aggressive mannerisms--which, to do him justice, in normal circ.u.mstances he successfully concealed, at any rate, when mixing with other nationalities--were showing clearly in his face. He was once again the arrogant, intolerant autocrat--truly, _in vino veritas_. Moreover, his eyes were wandering with increasing frequency to Jerry, who, so far, seemed unconscious of the scrutiny.

After a while I caught Ginger Lawson's eye and he shrugged his shoulders slightly. He told me afterwards that he had been fearing a flare-up for some minutes, but had hoped it would pa.s.s over. However, he strolled over to Jerry and started talking.

"Mop that up, Jerry," he said, "and come along and do your duty. Baron, you don't seem to be dancing much to-night. Can't I find you a partner?"

"Thank you, but I probably know more people here than you do." The tone even more than the words was a studied insult. "Lieutenant Travers's duty seems to have been unpleasant up to date, which perhaps accounts for his reluctance to resume it. Are you--er--lucky at cards?" This time the sneer was too obvious to be disregarded.

Jerry looked up, and the eyes of the two men met. "It is possible, Baron von Dressier," he remarked icily, "that in your navy remarks of that type are regarded as witty. Would it be asking you too much to request that you refrain from using them in a s.h.i.+p where they are merely considered vulgar?"

By this time a dead silence had settled on the wardroom, one of those awkward silences which any scene of this sort produces on those who are in the unfortunate position of onlookers.

Von Dressler was white with pa.s.sion. "You forget yourself, lieutenant. I would have you to know that my uncle is a prince of the blood royal."

"That apparently does not prevent his nephew from failing to remember the customs that hold amongst gentlemen."

"Gentlemen!" The Prussian looked round the circle of silent officers with a scornful laugh; the fumes of the spirits he had drunk were mounting to his head with his excitement. "You mean--shopkeepers."

With a muttered curse several officers started forward; no ball is a teetotal affair, I suppose, and scenes of this sort are dangerous at any time. Travers held up his hand, sharply, incisively.

"Gentlemen, remember this--er--Prussian officer and gentleman is our guest. That being the case, sir"--he turned to the German--"you are quite safe in insulting us as much as you like."

"The question of safety would doubtless prove irresistible to an Englishman." The face of the German was distorted with rage, he seemed to be searching in his mind for insults; then suddenly he tried a new line.

"Bah! I am not a guttersnipe to bandy words with you. You will not have long to wait, you English, and then--when the day does come, my friends; when, at last, we come face to face, then, by G.o.d! then----"

"Well, what then, Baron von Dressler?" A stern voice cut like a whiplash across the wardroom; standing in the door was the admiral himself, who had entered unperceived.

For a moment the coa.r.s.e, furious face of the Prussian paled a little; then with a supreme effort of arrogance he pulled himself together.

"Then, sir, we shall see--the world will see--whether you or we will be the victor. The old and effete versus the new and efficient. Der Tag."

He lifted his hand and let it drop; in the silence one could have heard a pin drop.

"The problem you raise is of interest," answered the admiral, in the same icy tone. "In the meanwhile any discussion is unprofitable; and in the surroundings in which you find yourself at present it is more than unprofitable--it is a gross breach of all good form and service etiquette. As our guest we were pleased to see you; you will pardon my saying that now I can no longer regard you as a guest. Will you kindly give orders, Lieutenant Travers, for a steam-pinnace? Baron von Dressler will go ash.o.r.e."

Such was the other matter that concerned my princ.i.p.als, and which, of necessity, I have had to record. Such an incident is probably almost unique; but when there's a girl at the bottom of things and wine at the top, something is likely to happen. The most unfortunate thing about it all, as far as Jerry was concerned, was an untimely indisposition on the part of Honks mere. As a coincidence nothing could have been more disastrous.

The pinnace was at the foot of the gangway, and the Baron--his eyes savage--was just preparing to take an elaborate and sarcastic farewell of the silent torpedo-lieutenant, who was regarding him with an air of cold contempt, when Mr. Honks appeared on the scene.

"Say, Baron, are you going away?"

"I am, Mr. Honks. My presence seems distasteful to the officers."

The American seemed hardly to hear the last part of the remark. "I guess we'll quit too. My wife's been taken bad. Can we come in your boat, Baron?"

"I shall be more than delighted." His eyes came round with ill-concealed triumph to Travers's impa.s.sive face as the American bustled away. "I venture to think that the Honks stakes are still open."

"By Heaven! You blackguard!" muttered Jerry, his pa.s.sion overcoming him for a moment. "I believe I'd give my commission to smash your d.a.m.ned face in with a marline-spike and chuck you into the sea."

"I won't forget what you say," answered the German vindictively, "One day I'll make you eat those words; and then when I've sunk your rat-eaten s.h.i.+p, it will be me that uses the marline-spike--you swine."

It was as well for Jerry, and for the Baron too, that at this psychological moment the Honks menage arrived, otherwise that German would probably have gone into the sea.

"Good night, lady," murmured Jerry, when he had solicitously inquired after her mother's health. "Is there no hope?" He was desperately anxious to seize the second or two left; he knew she would not hear the true account of what had happened from the Baron.

"I guess not," she answered softly. "But come and call." With a smile she was gone, and from the boat there came the Baron's voice mocking through the still air, "Good night, Lieutenant Travers. Thank you so much."

And, drowned by the band that started at that moment, the wonderful and fearful curse that left the torpedo-lieutenant's lips drifted into the night unheard.