The Long Trick Part 6

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 pa.s.sed aft along the s.p.a.cious 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 pa.s.sed, and opened a door in the after bulkhead. They crossed the fore cabin extending the whole beam of the s.h.i.+p, and entered the after cabin.

Unlike other cabins on the main deck, this was lit by scuttles in the s.h.i.+p's side, and right aft, big armoured doors opened on to the stern walk. It lacked conspicuously the adornments usually a.s.sociated 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 furnis.h.i.+ng of the cabin.

The Captain was standing before a deal table supported by trestles, which occupied the deck s.p.a.ce 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 craftmans.h.i.+p.

"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 b.u.t.ton.

"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 c.o.c.k--the Squadron trophy--this year, so you must see what you can do about it.

Also, I want you to look after the Mids.h.i.+pmen. They're a good lot, and there's one in particular--Harcourt, isn't it, Commander?--who ought to pull off the Mids.h.i.+pmen'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 pa.s.sed aft down an electric-lit alley-way. A door on the right opened for a moment as they pa.s.sed, 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 s.h.i.+p.

"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 gla.s.s 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 ash.o.r.e 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 att.i.tude.

"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: t.i.tle 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 ill.u.s.trated 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, polis.h.i.+ng 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 a.s.sistance 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed 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 brus.h.i.+ng."

"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--pa.s.s 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.