* * * * *
After dinner that evening the captain of the depot came down to the ward room and was hailed with the respectful welcome of a great man and a comrade. Drinks were passed on him, and he was led to an arm-chair near the fire where the boat-captains were discussing their usual topics, ‘shop’ and motor-bicycles. The Torpedo Lieutenant was in good form and regaled his superiors with a lengthy account of his unrewarded struggles to benefit a misguided humanity, and of his abject failure. Austin and Blake brought a discussion on the merits of American Diesel engines to him for a casting decision, and the Staff Paymaster bemoaned the removal of a certain cherished underling to another sphere of utility.
By-and-by, in a lull in the general conversation, the Captain spoke of what was in his mind.
‘How did the attacks go to-day, Raymond?’ he asked. ‘You haven’t told me anything beyond the bare report.’
‘Nothing to tell you, sir. They went pretty well. One came off and the other didn’t.’
‘That’s all rubbish, sir,’ put in Jenkins, who was one of the guests of the evening. ‘I only just saw him the first time, and the second attack defeated me completely. I was absolutely Hunned and never saw a thing.’
The Captain’s eyes twinkled.
‘Not so bad, Raymond,’ he said. ‘Not so bad. A little more practice and you’ll become one of the wonders of the deep.’
‘I don’t know about that, sir,’ laughed Raymond. ‘I ought to have got both attacks in, really, and I only just got him the last time by a fluke.’
The Captain smiled and changed the subject. At the other end of the ward room somebody was playing the piano and the strains of ‘The Admiral’s Broom’ rose in a deep baritone. When the chorus was reached the party round the fire joinedin:—
‘I’ve a whip at the mast said he,For a whip is the sign for me,That the World may know, where ever I go,I ride and rule the Sea....’
‘I’ve a whip at the mast said he,For a whip is the sign for me,That the World may know, where ever I go,I ride and rule the Sea....’
‘I’ve a whip at the mast said he,For a whip is the sign for me,That the World may know, where ever I go,I ride and rule the Sea....’
‘I’ve a whip at the mast said he,
For a whip is the sign for me,
That the World may know, where ever I go,
I ride and rule the Sea....’
The good old words filled the room and floated up through the skylight to the silent quarter-deck, where the officer of the watch paced up and down, and the anchored ships showed up as deeper blotches in the darkness. Overhead the wireless buzzed and crackled, and the lapping of the waterbetween the boats alongside sounded like mermaids’ kisses.
A quartermaster on his way forward paused by the open skylight listening to the tinkle of the piano.
‘Strewth,’ he muttered. ‘Orficers ’avin’ a good time,’ and relapsed into silence as a signalman pattered by to relieve his mate on the bridge.
As the song came to an end a boy operator knocked at the ward-room door and handed a message to the Captain, who read it and put it in his pocket. Another song was beginning, and the singers were clustering round the piano. Duty called him, and as the song reached the noisy stage, he left with a quiet ‘good-night,’ and returned to his lonely quarters.
He was no mean judge of character.