Chapter XV

Southend, August 1909.

A Bunting draped paddle-steamer, listed over with a dense crowd of trippers, thrashed her leisurely way down the lines. On the quarterdeck of one of the Battleships the Midshipman of the Afternoon Watch rubbed the lense of his telescope with his jacket cuff, adjusted the focus against a stanchion, and prepared to make the most of this heaven-sent diversion. Over the water came a hoarse roar of cheering, and, as she drew near, handkerchiefs and flags fluttered along the steamer's rail. The Lieutenant of the Watch, in frock-coat and sword-belt, paused beside the Midshipman and raised his glass, a dry smile creasing the corners of his eyes.

"What's up with them all, sir ?"murmured the boy delightedly."My Aunt! What a Banzai !"

"Ever seen kids cheer a passing train ? Same sort of thing."

"But look at the girl in white; she's half off her chump - look at her waving her arms . . . . Friend of yours, sir ?"

"No - only hysterical. The man with her is trying to make her stop." The sailor laughed. "He's given it up . . . now he's waving too - what at?" He closed his glass. "Curious, isn't it ?"

The steamer passed on, and a confused burr of cheering announced that she had reached the next silent warship. "It's all - same ` Maffick," he continued presently, "Entente - Banzai - anything you like to call it. An' when we've gone they'll come to their senses and feel hot all over - like a fellow who wakes up and finds his hat on the gas-bracket and his boots in the water jug !"

The Midshipman nodded: "I saw some kids dancing round a policeman once. Made the bobby look rather an ass - though as a matter of fact I believe he rather liked it. Bad for discipline, though," he added with the austere judgment of eighteen summers.

A launch bumped alongside, and a stout man in the stern-sheets shouted for permission to come on board.

"Do," said the Lieutenant gravely. The stout man took a valedictory pull at a black bottle in the stern-locker, pocketed a handful of shrimps for future consumption, and, accompanied by three feminine acquaintances, laboriously ascended the ladder. They gazed stolidly and all uncomprehending at the sleek barbette guns, the snowy planking underfoot; over which flickered the shadow of the White Ensign, and finally wandered forward through the screen-doors, where they were lost to view among the throngs of sightseers.

The afternoon wore on ; every few minutes a launch or steamer swirled past, gay with bunting and parasols. Many carried bands, and in the lulls of cheering the light breeze bore the notes of martial, if not strictly appropriate, music across the line. An Able Seaman paused in his occupation of burnishing the top of the after-capstan, and passed the back of his hand across his forehead.

"Proper dizzy, ain't they?" he remarked in an undertone to a companion. "Wot's the toon ?"

"Sons of the Muvverland," replied the other. He sucked his teeth appreciatively, after the manner of sailor-men, and added, "Gawd ! Look at them women ! ���."

A launch with a crimson banner, bearing the name of a widely-circulated halfpenny paper, fussed under the stern. A man in a dingy white waistcoat hailed the quarter-deck in the vernacular through a megaphone.

"No, thank you," came the clear-cut reply ; "we have to-day's papers." The Lieutenant hitched his glass under his arm and resumed his measured walk. "I'm no snob, Lord knows," he confided to the other, "but it bores me stiff to be patted on the head by the halfpenny press - Sideboy ! pick up those shrimps' heads that gentleman dropped."

By degrees the more adventurous spirits found their way down between decks, where, in a short time, the doorway of each officer's cabin framed a cluster of inquisitive heads. In one or two cases daring sightseers had invaded the interiors, and were examining with naive interest the photographs, Rugby caps, dented cups, and all the lares atque penates of a Naval Officer.

"'Ere, Florrie !" called a flushed maiden of Hebraic mien, obtruding her head into the flat, "come an' look !" She extended a silver photograph frame,- "Phyllis Dare-signed an' all!"

The other sighed rapturously and examined it with round-eyed interest. Then she gazed round the tiny apartment. Ain't 'e a one ! Look at 'is barf 'anging on the roof ! . . ."

The harassed sentry evicted them with difficulty.

"Better'n Earl's Court, this is," opined a stout lady, who, accompanied by a meek-looking husband and three children, had subsided on to a Midshipman's sea-chest. She opened the mouth of a string-hag. "Come on, 'Orace - you just set down this minute, an' you shall 'ave 'arf a banana."

A very small Midshipman approached the chest."I hate disturbing you, and Horace," he ventured,"but I want to go ashore, and all my things are in that box you're sitting on - would you mind . . . ?"

"Ma !" shrilled a small boy, indicating the modest brass plate on the lid of the chest they had vacated. "Look-" he extended a small, grubby forefinger, "'e's a Viscount !"

"Garn," snapped his father, "that's swank, that is. Viscounts don' go sailorin' - they stops ashore an' grinds the faces of the poor, an' don' forget what I'm tellin' of you."

The Marine Sentry overheard. "Pity they don' wash 'em as well," he observed witheringly. His duties included that of servant to the Midshipman in question, and he resented the scepticism of a stranger who sat on the lid of his master's chest eating cold currant pudding out of a string-bag.

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

On the pier-head a dense perspiring crowd surged through gates and barriers, swarmed outward into all the available space, and slowly congested into a packed throng of over-heated, over-tired humanity. Those nearest the rails levelled cheap opera-glasses at the distant line of men-of-war stretching away into the haze, each ship with her attendant steamer circling round her. An excursion steamer alongside hooted deafeningly, and a man in a peaked cap on her bridge raised his voice above the babel, bellowing hoarse incoherencies. A gaitered Lieutenant clanked through the crowd, four patrol-men at his heels, moving as men do who are accustomed to cramped surroundings.

At the landing-stages, where the crowd surged thickest, the picket-boats from the Fleet swung hooting alongside, rocking in the swell. As each went astern and checked her way, the front of the excited throng of sight-seers bellied outward, broke, and poured across the boats in a wild stampede for seats. They swayed on the edge of the gunwales, floundered hobnailed over enamelled casings, were clutched and steadied on the heaving decks by barefooted, half-contemptuous men. The Midshipmen raised their voices in indignant protest: drunk and riotous libertymen they understood: one "swung-off" at them in unfettered language of the sea, or employed the butt-end of a tiller to back an ignored command on which their safety depended. But here was a people that had never known discipline - had scorned the necessity for it in their own unordered lives.

The Midshipman of the inside pinnace jerked the lanyard of the syren savagely. "Look at my priceless paintwork ! look at��That's enough - no more in this boat - it's not safe! Please stand back, it's - oh, d��.. !" A man, in utter disregard of the request, had picked up a child in his arms and jumped on board, steadying himself by the funnel guys. "Orl right, my son, don't bust yerself," he replied pleasantly.

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

An old woman forced her way through the crush towards the Lieutenant of the Patrol, who with knotted brows was trying to grasp the gist of a signal handed to him by a coastguard.

"I want to see my 'usband's nephew, "she explained breathlessly; "'e's in 89 Mess. "The Lieutenant smiled gravely. "What ship?" She named the ship, and stood expectant, a look of confidence on her heated features, as if awaiting some sleight-of-band trick. There was something dimly prophetic in the simple faith with which she voiced her need.

"I see. Will you excuse me a minute while I answer this signal, and I'll send some one to help you find the right boat."

A Petty Officer guided her eventually to the landing-place and saw her safely embarked ; he returned to find his Lieutenant comforting with clumsy tenderness a small and lacrimose boy who had lost his parents, turning from him to receive the reproaches of a lady whose purse had been stolen. The two men exchanged a little smile, and the Petty Officer edged a little nearer ���

"'Arf an hour on the parade-ground at Whale Island ** sir, I'd like to 'ave with some of 'em," he confided behind a horny palm. The jostling throng surged round him, calling high heaven to witness the might of its possessions.

"I'd make 'em 'op , . ." he murmured dreamily

** The hotbed of Naval Discipline.

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