Chapter XIV

The bell above the door of the village post office tinkled and the Postmistress looked up over her spectacles.

"Is it yourself, Biddy?"

A barefooted country girl with a shawl over her head entered and shyly tendered an envelope across the counter.

"Can you tell me how much it will be, Mrs Malone?"she queried. There was anxiety in the dark-blue eyes.

The Postmistress glanced at the address."Sure, it'll go for a penny,"she said reassuringly.

"That's a terrible long way for a penny,"said the girl."Sure, it's a terrible long way."

From under her shawl she produced a coin and stamped the envelope. It took some time to do to do this, because a good deal depended on the exact angle at which the stamp was affixed. In itself it carried a message to the recipient.

"It's grand writin' ye've got,"said the Postmistress, her Celtic sympathy aroused."An' himself will be houldin' it in his hands a month from now."

The girl blushed."Father Denis is after learnin' me; an' please for a bit o' stamp-paper, Mrs Malone,"she pleaded softly,"the way no one will be after opening it an' readin' it in them outlandish parts."It was the seal of the poor, a small square of stamp-paper gummed over the flap of the envelope.

As she was concluding this final rite the bell tinkled again. A fair-haired girl in tweeds, carrying a walking -stick., entered with a spaniel at her heels.

She smiled a greeting to both women."A penny stamp, please, Mrs Malone."She stamped a letter she carried in her hand, and turned the face of the envelope towards the Postmistress."How long is this going to take getting to its destination?"

The Postmistress beamed."Sure, himself -"she began, and recollected herself."A. month, me lady - no more."Outside, the girl with the shawl over her head was standing before the slit of the post-box; the other girl came out the next moment, and the two letters started on their long journey side by side.

As the two women turned to go, their eyes met for an instant: the country girl blushed. They went their way, each with a little smile on her lips.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Destroyer, that for three hours had been slamming through a head sea, rounded the headland and came in sight of the anchored Fleet.

The Yeoman of Signals on the Flagship's bridge closed his glass with a snap."She's got mails for the Fleet,"he called to the Leading Signalman."I'll report to the Flag Lieutenant."As he descended to the quarter deck he met the Officer of the Watch.

"Destroyer coming in with mails, sir."The Lieutenant's face brightened; he called an order to the Boatswain's Mate, who ran forward piping shrilly."A-wa-a-ay picket-boat !"he bawled.

The Flag-Lieutenant was reading in his cabin when the Yeoman made his report. Snatching up his cap, he hastened in to the Admiral's apartments."Destroyer arriving with mails for the Fleet, sir."The Admiral glanced at the calendar."Ah! Eight days since we had the last. Thank you."

The Flag-Lieutenant poked his head inside the Secretary's Office."Now you fellows will have something to do - the mail's coming in!"

"Thank you,"replied the Secretary's Clerk."But, Flags, try not to look quite so inanely pleased about it. She's probably forgotten all about you by now."

The Destroyer with rime-crusted funnels drew near, and men working on the upper decks of the Fleet ceased their labours to watch her approach. One of the side-party, working over the side in a bowline, jerked his paint-brush in her direction."If I don't get no letter this mail - so 'elp me I stops me 'arf pay,"he confided grimly to a"Raggie,"and spat sententiously. In the Wardroom the married officers awoke from their afternoon siesta and began to harass the Officer of the Watch with inquiries. The news spread even to the Midshipmen's School-place, and the Naval Instructor found straightway that to all intents and purposes he was lecturing on Spherical Trigonometry to deaf adders.

With the eyes of the Fleet upon her, the Destroyer anchored at last, and the Flagship's picket-boat slid alongside to embark the files of bloated mail-bags. As she swung round on her return journey the Yeoman on the Flagship's bridge glanced down at a signal-boy standing beside the flag-lockers, and nodded. Two flags leaped from the lockers and sped to the masthead. Instantly an answering flutter of bunting appeared on each ship.

"Send boats for mails."The Flagship had spoken.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wardroom and Gunroom a rustling silence prevailed. Each new-comer as he entered rushed to the letter-rack and hurriedly grabbed his pile of letters: there is poignant joy in seeing one's name on an envelope twelve thousand watery miles away from. home, no matter whose hand penned the address. In some cases, though, it mattered a good deal.

The Flag-Lieutenant retired to his cabin like a dog with a bone, and became engrossed with closely-written sheets that enclosed several amateur snapshots. One or two portrayed a slim, fair-haired girl in tweeds; others a black spaniel. The Flag-Lieutenant studied them through a magnifying-glass, smiling.

The Admiral, busy over his private correspondence, was also smiling. He had been offered another group of letters to tack after his name (he had five already). The agent of his estate at home had a lot to say about the pheasants . . . . His wife sprawled an account of life at Aix across eight pages. He had been invited to be the executor of one man's will and godfather to another's child. But a series of impressionist sketches by his youngest daughter (ostat. 5), inspired by a visit to the Zoo, was what he was actually smiling over.

Up on the after-bridge the Yeoman of the Watch leaned over the rail and whistled to the signal-boy."Nip down to my mess an' see if there's a letter for me."

The boy fled down the ladder and presently returned with a letter. The Yeoman took it from him and turned it over in his hands, scanning it almost hungrily.

The stamp was cryptically askew and the flap of the envelope ornamented by a fragment of stamp-paper.

"An' what the 'ell are you grinnin' at?"he began. The boy turned and scampered down the ladder into safety. The Yeoman of Signals stood looking after him, the letter held in his hand, when a bell rang outside the signal-house. He put his ear to the voice-pipe. The Flag-Lieutenant was speaking.

"Yes; Sir ? `'

"Make the following signal to the Destroyer that brought our mails ��..

"To Commanding Officer. Admiral requests the pleasure of your company to dinner to-night at eight o'clock."

"Aye, aye, sir."He turned away from the voice-pipe."An' 'e could 'ave my tot on top o' that for the askin'."

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