Chapter XVII

THE Junior Watch-keeper paused at the corner of the street and smote the pavement with the ferrule of his stick.

"Lord!"he ejaculated,"to think this is the last night ! Look at it all . . . ."Dusk had fallen, and with it a wet mist closed down on the town. The lights from the shop windows threw out a warm orange glow that was reflected off the wet pavements and puddles in the street. The shrill voice of a paper-boy, hawking the evening paper, dominated all other sounds for a moment."Eve . . . nin' Er-r-rald !"he called. Then, seeing the two figures standing irresolute on the kerb, ran towards them.

"Evenin' 'Erald ! sir ? Naval 'Pointments, sir . . . To-night's Naval 'Point�."

The Lieutenant shook his head half impatiently, then added as if speaking to himself,"No - not yet."It was such a familiar evening feature of life ashore in a Dockyard Port, that hoarse,"jodelling"cry. One bought the paper and glanced through the columns over a gin-and-bitters at the Club. But this was the last night: every familiar sensation and experience should be flavoured in their turn-ere they two went hence and were no more seen!

The Young Doctor at his elbow gave a curt laugh :"We shan't be very interested in the Appointments to-morrow night, Jerry!"

An itinerant seller of violets drifted down the pavement and thrust his fragrant merchandise upon them.

"What shall we do first?"asked the Junior Watch-keeper."Let's go and have our hair cut and a shampoo."

"I hate having my hair cut,"pleaded the Surgeon.

"Never mind: it's all part of the show. You won't get another chance of talking football to a barber for years . . . . And that awful green stuff that he rubs in with a bit of sponge - oh, come on!"

Together they drifted up the familiar street, pausing to stare into shop windows with a sudden renewal of interest that was half pathetic. A jeweller's shop, throwing a glittering white arc of light across the pavement arrested their progress.

"I never realised before,"mused the Surgeon,"how these fellows cater for the lovelorn Naval Officer. Look at those brooches; naval crowns; hat-pins made of uniform buttons, bracelets with flags done in enamel D-E-A-R-E-S-"he spelt out, and broke off abruptly,"Pouf ! What Tosh !"

The other was fumbling with the door-latch."half a minute, Peter, there's something I've just remembered . . ."and vanished inside muttering. The Young Doctor caught the words"some little thing,"and waited outside. The traffic of the street, a fashionable shopping street in a Dockyard town at 6 P.M. streamed past him as he stood there waiting. Girls in furs, with trim ankles, carrying parcels or Badminton raquets, hurried along, pausing every now and again to glance into an attractive shop window. Several tweed-clad figures, shouldering golf clubs, passed in the direction of the railway station; one or two nodded a salutation as they recognised him. Little pigtailed girls with tight skirts enclosing immature figures, of a class known technically as the"Flapper,"drifted by with lingering, precocious stares. The horns of the motors that whizzed along the muddy street sounded far and near. They, together with the clang and rumble of tramcars a few streets away, and the voices of the paper-boys, dominated in turn all other sounds in the mirky night air. The man with the basket of violets shuffled past again, and left a faint trail of fragrance lingering. Long after that night, in the uttermost parts the earth he remembered it, and the half-caught scent of violets, drifting from a perfume shop in Saigon, was destined to conjure up for the Surgeon a vision of that glittering street, with its greasy pavement and hurrying passers-by, and of a pair of grey eyes that glanced back for an instant over their owner's furs . . . .

The Junior Watch-keeper reappeared, buttoning up his coat."Sorry to have kept you waiting, Peter,"and fell into step beside his companion.

Half an hour later they emerged from the hairdresser's establishment, clipped and anointed as to the head.

"Now,"breathed the Lieutenant,"where to ?"

"Sawdust Club!"said the Surgeon. They crossed the road and turned up a narrow passage-way. As they quitted the street, a diminutive boy, with an old, wizened face and an unnaturally husky voice, wormed his way in under the Young Doctor's elbow, `Era'"'Erald, sir? Latest, sir! Naval-"The Surgeon. slipped a sixpenny bit into his hand and took the proffered paper, still damp from the press. They entered a long vault-like apartment, its floor strewn with sawdust and long counters and a row of wooden stools extending down each side. Behind the counters rose tiers of barrels, and in one corner was a sandwich buffet, with innumerable neat piles of sandwiches in a glass case. The place was crowded with customers: a bull-dog sauntered about the floor, nosing among the sawdust for pieces of biscuit. As the new-comers entered several of the inmates, perched on their wooden stools; looked round and smiled a greeting.

"Ah-ha ! Last night in England, eh ?

"Yes,"replied the Junior Watch-keeper,"the last night."He sniffed the mingled aroma of sawdust, tobacco-smoke, and the faint pungent small of alcohol."Good old pot-house ! Good old Sawdust Club ! Dear, dear, curried egg sandwiches ! . . . And a drop of sherry white-wine ' what the orficers drinks' - yes, in a dock-glass, and may the Lord ha' mercy on us!

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

"And now,"said the Young Doctor, a `chop-and-chips,' I think."

"A mixed-grill,"substituted the other."Kidney and sausage and tomato and all the rest of it. Oh yes, a ` mixed-grill."'

They entered swing - doors, past a massive Commissionaire, who saluted with a broad smile."They're askin' for you inside, sir,"he whispered jocularly to the Junior Watch-keeper."Wonderin' when you was comin' along . . . . Sailin' to-morrow, ain't you, sir ?"

Together the"last-nighters"descended a flight of carpeted stairs and entered a subterranean, electric-lit lounge bar. A dozen or more of Naval men were standing about the fireplace and sitting in more or less graceful attitudes in big saddle-bag arm-chairs. The majority were conducting a lively badinage with a pretty, fair-haired girl who leaned over the bar at one end of the room. She smiled a greeting as the new-comers entered, and emerged from her retreat. The Junior Watch-keeper doffed his hat with a low bow and hung it on the stand. Then he bent down, swung her into his arms, and handed her like a doll to the Young Doctor, who in turn deposited her on the lap of a seated Officer reading the evening paper."Look what I've found."

With a squeal she twisted herself to her feet and retreated behind the bar again, her hands busy with the mysteries of hair-pins.

"Hullo ! hullo!"Greetings sounded on all sides. A tall broad-shouldered figure with a brown beard elbowed his way through the crush and smote the Junior Watch-keeper on the breast-bone.

"Dear sakes! Where have you sprung from? I just come from the Persian Gulf, and it's a treat to see a familiar face!

"We're off to China again to-morrow,"said the other, a half-suppressed note of exultation in his voice -"China-side again ! Do you remember . . . ?"

The bearded one nodded wistfully."Do I not ! . . . You lucky devils. . . , Oh, you lucky devils ! Here, Molly ��.."

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

The waiter sought them presently with the time-honoured formula:"Your grill's spoilin', gentlemen, please,"and they took their places in the mirror-walled grill-room, where the violins were whimpering some pizzicato melody. A girl with dark eyes set a shad obliquely in a pale face, seated at the grand piano, looked across as they entered and, smiled a faint greeting to the Young Doctor.

"I think we're entitled to a voluntary from the pianist to-night,"said the other presently his mouth full of mixed-grill."What shall we ask for?"

The other thought for a moment."There's a thing . . . I, don't know what it's called . . . it's like wind in the leaves - she knows."He beckoned a waiter and whispered. The girl with the pale face looked across the room and for an instant met the eyes of the Young Doctor; then she ran her fingers lightly over the keys and drifted into Sinding's Fruhlingsrauschen.

The Surgeon nodded delightedly."That's the thing . . . . Good girl. I don't know what it's called, but it reminds me of . . . things."He munched cheerfully, pausing anon to bury his face in a tankard of beer, and they fell to discussing prospects of sport up the Yangtse. Once or twice as she played, the girl behind the piano allowed her dark eyes to travel across the crowded grill-room over the heads of the diners, and her glance lingered a moment at the table where the two"last-nighters"were seated. The first violin, who was also a musician, sat with a wrapt expression, holding his fiddle across his knees. When the piece was over he started abruptly -so abruptly it was evident that for him a spell had broken. He looked up at the pianist with a queer, puzzled expression, as if half-resentful of something.

The Young Doctor was arranging forks and a cruet-stand in a diagram on the table-cloth."There was a joss-house here, if you remember, and the guns were here . . . the pigeon came over that clump of bamboo . . . ."The other, leaning across the table, nodded with absorbed interest.

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

The Lieutenant glanced at his watch."Come along; we must be moving if we're going to the ` Palace.'"They paid their bill, tipped the waiter in a manner that appeared to threaten him with instant dislocation of the spine, and walked up the tiled passage that led past the open door of the lounge. From her vantage behind the bar inside, the girl some one had addressed as"Molly"caught a glimpse of their retreating figures. She slipped out through the throng of customers, most of whom had dined, and were talking to each other over their port and liqueurs, into the quiet of the corridor.

"Jerry !"she called;"Mr ���"

"Lord l"ejaculated the Junior Watchkeeper,"I'd forgotten����"He turned quickly on his heel."Hullo, Molly l We're coming back presently. But that reminds me . . �"he fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, and the Surgeon strolled slowly on up the steps round a bend, and was lost to view.

The girl gave a little breathless laugh."That's what you all say, you boys. And you never do come back .... You weren't going without saying good-bye to me, were you?"

"No, no, Molly, of course I wasn't: and look here, old lady, here's a gadget I got for you�.."he fumbled with the tissue paper enclosing a little leather case.

The girl stood with one hand on the lappel of his coat, twisted a button backwards and forwards."Jerry, I-I wanted to thank you . . you were a real brick to me, that time. It saved my life, gain' to the Sanatorium, an' I couldn't never have afforded it . . ."her careful grammar became a shade confused.

The man gave a little, deep laugh of embarrassment."Rot ! Molly, that's all over and forgotten. No more nasty coughs now, eh ?"He patted her shoulder clumsily.

' An' mind you drop me. a line when that fathom of trouble of yours comes up to the scratch, and send me a bit of wedding-cake - here, hang on to this thing . . . . No, it's nothing: only a little breach . . . . Good-bye, old lady-good-bye. Good luck to you, and don't forget to��"

The girl raised her pretty, flushed face and gave a quick glance up and down the deserted corridor."Ain't you-aren't you going to-say good-bye . . , properly Jerry?"

The Junior watch-keeper bent down."'Course . . . and another for luck . . .! Good-bye, dear; good-bye . . . !"

The Young Doctor was waiting with his nose flattened against the darkened window of a gunsmith's opposite when the Lieutenant joined him. His silence held a vague hint of disapproval as they fell into step."That girl,"he ventured presently,"Isn't she a bit fond of you, old thing?"

The Junior Watch-keeper paused to light a pipe."I-I don't think so, Peter. Not more than she is of a dozen others."He glanced at his companion:"You don't think I've been up to any rotten games, do you ?"The other shook his head with quick protest."But I like her awfully, and she's a jolly good little sport. They all are, taking them all round, in a Naval Port. It's a rotten life when you think of it . . . cooped up there in that beastly atmosphere, year in, year out, listening to everlasting Service shop, or being made love to by half-tight foals. Their only refuge from it is in marriage - if they care to take advantage of some young ass. Who else do they meet . . . ? The marvel of it is not that a few come to grief, but that so many are so jolly straight. That girl to-night - Molly - I suppose she has refused half a dozen N.O.'s. Prefers to wait till some scallywag in her own class can afford to take her away out of it. And I've heard her talking like a Mother to a rorty Midshipman - a silly young ass who was drinking like a fish and wasting his money and health pub-crawling. She shook him to the core. Lord knows, I don't want to idealise barmaids - p'raps I'd be a better man if I'd seen less :hem myself �but �."

The Surgeon gripped his elbow soothingly."I know - I know, old son. Don't get in a stew ! And as for seeing less of them . . , it's hard to say. Unless a man knows people ashore, and is prepared to put on his ' superfine suitings ' and pay asinine calls when he might he playing golf or cricket, where else is he to speak to a woman all the days of his life? Dances . . . ? I can't dance."

They had turned into the main thoroughfare, and the traffic that thronged the pavements and roadway made conversation difficult. The liberty men from scores of ships in the port streamed to and fro: some arm-in-arm with, quietly-dressed servant girls and shop girls; others uproarious in the company of feathered women. At short intervals along the street a flaring gin-palace or cinema-theatre flung smudges of apricot-coloured light on to the greasy pavements and the faces of passers-by. Trams clanged past, and every now and again a blue-jacket or military foot-patrol, belted and gaitered, moved with watchful eyes and measured gait along the kerb.

As they neared the music-hall the throng grew denser. On all sides the West Country burr filled the night, softening even the half.-caught oath with its broad, kindly inflection. Men from the garrison regiments mingled with the stream of blue-clad sailors. A woman hawking oranges from the kerb raised her shrill voice, thrusting the cheap fruit under the noses of passers-by. A group of young Stokers, lounging round a vendor of hot chestnuts, were skylarking with the two brazen-voiced girls. At the doorway of the music-hall, a few yards away, a huge man in livery began to bawl into the night, hoarsely incoherent.

The two officers mounted the steps together and as one obtained tickets from the booking-office, the other turned with a little smile to look down the mile-long vista of lights and roaring humanity. The scintillant tram-cars came swaying up the street from the direction, of the Dockyard: on either side the gleaming windows of the shops that still remained open-the tattooists, the barbers, tobacconists, the fried-fish and faggot shops, and the host of humbler tradesmen who plied most of their trade at this hour grew fainter and duller, until they dwindled away to a point under the dark converging house-tops. A girl, shouting some shameless jest, broke away from the horse-play round the chestnut-oven, and thrust herself, reeling with laughter, through the passing crowd. A burly Marine caught her by the waist as she wriggled past, and kissed her dexterously without stopping in his stride. His companion smirked appreciation of the feat, and glanced back over his shoulder . . . .

The watcher on the steps turned and followed the other up the broad stairway.

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

A man with a red nose and baggy trousers was singing a song about his mother-in-law and a lodger. His accents were harshly North Country, and out of the paint-streaked countenance, his eyes - pathetic, brown monkey-eyes roamed anxiously over the audience, as if even he had little enough confidence in the humour of his song.

The Lieutenant leaned back in his seat and refilled his pipe."Isn't it wonderful to think that when we come home again in three years' time that chap with the baggy trousers and red nose - or his twin-brother, anyhow - will still be singing about the same old mother-in-law!"

Presently a stout, under-clad woman skipped before the footlights and commenced some broadly suggestive patter. The audience, composed for the most part of blue-jackets and Tommies, roared delight at each doubtful sally. She ended with a song that had a catchy, popular refrain, and the house took it up with a great burst of song.

"Hark at 'em !"whispered the Surgeon."Don't they love it all! Yet her voice is nothing short of awful, her song means nothing on earth, and her anatomy - every line of it - ought to be in the museum of the Royal College of Surgeons . . . . Let's go and have a drink."

They ascended the stairway to the promenade, and passed under a curtain-hung archway into a long bar. The atmosphere was clouded with tobacco smoke, and reeked of spirits and cheap, clinging scent. From a recess in one corner a gramophone blared forth a modern rag-time, and a few women, clasped by very callow-looking youths, were swaying to a"One-step"in the middle of the carpeted space. Behind the bar two tired looking girls scurried to and fro, jerking beer handles as if for a wager, and mechanically repeating orders. Settees ran the length of the walls under rows of sporting prints, and here more women, with painted lips and over-bright, watchful eyes, were seated at little tables. Most of them were accompanied by young men in lounge or tweed suits.

"Phew,"grunted the Junior Watch-keeper,"what an atmosphere! Look at those young asses . . . . Kummel at this time of night . . . . And we did it once, Peter ! Lord ! it makes me feel a hundred."

A panting woman disengaged herself from her youthful partner, and linked her arm within that of the Young Doctor."Ouf !"she gasped,"I'm that 'ot, dearie. Stand us a drop of wot killed auntie !"

With a gallant bow the Young Doctor led her to the bar."My dear madam,"he murmured-"a privilege ! And if you will allow me to prescribe for you - as a Medical Man - I suggest �.."

"Port an' lemon,"prompted the lady. She fanned herself with a sickly-scented and not over-clean scrap of lace."Ain't it 'ot, Doctor ! . . . Glad I lef' me furs at 'ome. Ain't you goin' to have nothin' . . . ?"

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

The Junior Watch-keeper drew a deep breath as they reached the open street.

"Thank God for fresh air again!"He filled and refilled his lungs.

"` And so to bed, '"quoted the other. The taverns and places of amusement were emptying their patrons into the murky street. Raucous laughter and farewells filled the night.

"Yes."The Junior Watch-keeper yawned, and they walked on in silence, each busy with his own long thoughts. By degrees the traffic lessened, until, nearing the Dockyard, the two were alone in deserted thoroughfares with no sound but the echo of their steps. They were threading the maze of dimly-lit, cobbled streets that still lay before them, when a draggle-skirted girl, standing in the shelter of a doorway, plucked at their sleeves. They walked on almost unheeding, when suddenly the Young Doctor hesitated and stopped. The woman paused irresolute for a moment, and then came towards them, with the light from a gas-lamp playing round her tawdry garments. She murmured something in a mechanical tone, and smiled terribly. The Young Doctor emptied his pockets of the loose silver and coppers they contained, and thrust the coins into her palm: with his disengaged hand he tilted her face up to the light. It was a pathetically young, pathetically painted face."Wish me good luck,"he said, and turned abruptly to overtake his companion.

The woman stood staring after them, her hand clenched upon her suddenly acquired riches. An itinerant fried-fish and potato merchant, homeward bounds trundled his barrow suddenly round a distant corner. The girl wheeled in the direction of the sound.

"'Ere!"she called imperiously,"'ere ! . . ."

The echo of her voice died away, and the Young Doctor linked his arm within the other's.

"There is a poem by some one I read the other day - d'you know it?

"'I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by."'

John Masefield

He mused for a moment in silence as they strode along."I forget how it goes on something about a ` vagrant gypsy life,' and the wind ` like a whetted knife '

"` And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover,

And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.'

"That's how it ends, I know."

The Junior Watch-keeper nodded soberly."Yes. . . . But it's the star we need the most, Peter - you and I"

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

It was early in the morning, and thin columns of smoke were rising from the funnels of a cruiser lying alongside one of the Dockyard jetties. On her decks there was a bustle of preparation: steaming covers were being laced to yards and topmasts: the Boatswain,"full of strange oaths"and of apoplectic countenance, moved forward in the wake of a depressed part of the watch. On the booms the Carpenter was superintending the stowage of some baulks of timber. Packing-cases were coming in at the gangway; barefooted messengers darted to and fro. There was a frequent shrilling of pipes, and the hoarse voice of the Boatswain's Mate bellowing orders.

Presently there cane a lull, and the ship's company were mustered aft as a bell began to toll. Then over the bared heads the familiar words of the Navy Prayer drifted outward into space.

". . . That we may return to enjoy . . . the fruits of our labours."In the course of the next three years, the words, by reason of their frequent repetition, would come to mean to them no more than the droning of the Chaplain's voice; yet that morning their significance was plain enough to the ranks of silent men. A minute later, with the notes of a bugle, the ship boiled into activity again.

Out on the straw-littered jetty a gradually increasing crowd had gathered. It was composed for the most part of women, poorly clad, with pinched, anxious faces. Some had babies in their arms; others carried little newspaper parcels tucked under their shawls parting gifts for some one. A thin drizzle swept in from the sea, as a recovered deserter, slightly intoxicated, was brought down between an escort and vanished over the gangway amid sympathetic murmurs from the onlookers. A telegram boy pushed his way through the crowd, delivered his message of God-speed in its orange-coloured envelope, and departed again, whistling jauntily. The men drifted out into the jetty to bid farewell, with forced nonchalance and frequent expectoration. Each man was the centre of a little group of relatives, discussing trivialities with laughter that did not ring quite true. Here and there a woman had broken down, crying quietly; but for the most part they stood dry-eyed and smiling, as befitted the women of a Nation that must be ever bidding"Vale"to its sons.

"All aboard !"The voices of the Ship's Police rose above the murmur of the crowd. Farewells were over.

A hoist of flags crept to the masthead, and an answering speck of colour appeared at the signal halliards over Admiralty House.

"Askin' permission to proceed,"said some one. The gang-planks rattled on to the jetty, and a knot of workmen began casting off wires from the bollards.

"Stand clear!"shouted a warning voice. The ropes slid across the tarred planking and fell with a sullen splash. Beneath the stern the water began to churn and boil. The ship was under way at last, gliding farther every minute from the watching crowd. The jetty was a sea of faces and waving handkerchiefs: the bard on board struck up a popular tune.

In a few minutes she was too far off to distinguish faces. On the fore bridge the Captain raised his, cap by the peak and waved it. Somewhere near the turf-scarped fort ashore an answering gleam of white appeared and fluttered for a moment. The lines of men along the upper deck, the guard paraded aft, the cluster of officers on the bridge, slowly faded into an indistinct blur as the mist closed round them. For a while longer the band was still audible, very far off and faint.

After a while the watchers turned and straggled slowly towards the Dockyard Gates.

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