Chapter XXIII

THE sun was setting behind a lurid bank of cloud above the hills of Spain, and, as is usual at Gibraltar about that hour, a light breeze sprang up. It eddied round the Rock and scurried across the harbour, leaving dark cat's-paws in its trail: finally it reached the inner mole, alongside which a cruiser was lying.

A long pendant of white bunting, that all day had hung listlessly from the main topmast, stirred, wavered, and finally bellied out astern, the gilded bladder at the tail bobbing uneasily over the surface of the water.

The Officer of the Watch leaned over the rail and watched the antics of the bladder, round which a flock of querulous 'gulls circled and screeched."The paying-off pendant ** looks apt if it were impatient,"he said laughingly to an Engineer Lieutenant standing at his side.

[** A pendant, one-and-a-quarter times the length of the ship, flown by ships homeward bound under orders to pay off]

The other smiled in his slow way and turned seaward, nodding across the bay towards Algeciras."Not much longer to wait-there's the steamer with the mail coming across now."He took a couple of steps across the deck and turned."Only another 1200 miles. Isn't it ripping to think of, after three years . . . ?"He rubbed his hands with boyish satisfaction."All the coal in and stowed-boats turned in, funnels smoking - that's what I like to see! Only the mail to wait for now: and the gauges down below"�he waggled his forefinger in the air, laughing�"like that . . . !"

The Lieutenant nodded and hitched his glass under his arm."Your middle watch, Shortie ? Mine too: we start working up for our passage trial then, don't we? Whack her up, lad�.for England, Home, and Beauty!"

The Engineer Lieutenant walked towards the hatchway."What do you think!"and went below humming��.

"From Ushant to Scilly , , ,"

The Lieutenant on watch turned and looked up at the Rock, towering over the harbour. Above the green-shuttered, pink and yellow houses, and dusty, sun-dried vegetation, the grim pile was flushing rose-colour against the pure sky. How familiar it was, he thought, this great milestone on the road to the East, and mused awhile, wondering how many dawns he had lain under its shadow: how many more sunsets he would watch and marvel at across the purple Bay.

"British as Brixton"He had read the phrase in a book once, describing Gibraltar. So it was, when you wore homeward bound. He resumed his measured pacing to and fro. The ferry steamer had finished her short voyage and had gone alongside the wharf, out of sight behind an arm of the mole. Not much longer to wait now. He glanced at his wrist-watch."Postie"wouldn't waste much time getting back. Not all the beer in Waterport Street nor all the glamour of the"Ramps"would lure him astray to-night. The Lieutenant paused in his measured stride and beckoned a side-boy."Tell the signalman to let me know directly the postman is sighted coming along the mole."

He resumed his leisurely promenade, wondering how many letters there would be for him, and who would write. His mother, of course . . , and Ted at Charterhouse. His speculations roamed afield. Any one else? Then he suddenly remembered the Engineer Lieutenant imitating the twitching gauge-needle with his forefinger. Lucky beggar he was. There was some one waiting for him who mattered more than all the Teds in the world. More even than a Mother - at least, he supposed . . . . His thoughts became abruptly sentimental and tender.

A signalman, coming helter-skelter down the ladder, interrupted them, as the Commander stepped out of his cabin on to the quarter-deck.

"Postman cumin' with the mail, sir."

A few minutes later a hoist of flags whirled hurriedly to the masthead, asking permission to proceed"in execution of previous orders."What those orders were, even the paying-off pendant knew, trailing aft over the stern-walk in the light wind.

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

The Rock lay far astern like a tinted shadow, an opal set in a blue-grey sea. Once beyond the Straits the wind freshened, and the cruiser began to lift her lean bows to the swell, flinging the spray aft along the forecastle in silver rain. The Marine bugler steered an unsteady course to the quarterdeck hatchway and sounded the Officers' Dinner Call.

"Officers' wives eat puddings and pies,

But sailors' wives eat skilly . . ."

chanted the Lieutenant of the impending first watch, swaying to the roll of the ship as he adjusted his tie before the mirror. He thumped the bulkhead between his cabin and the adjoining one.

"Buck up, Shortie!"he shouted;"it's Saturday Night at Sea ! Your night for a glass of port."

"Sweethearts and wives!"called another voice across the flat."You'll get drunk to-night, Snatcher, if you try to drink to all�.."the voice died away and rose again in expostulation with a Marine servant.". . . Well, does it look like a clean shirt . . . !"

"Give it a shake, Pay, and put it on like a man !"Some one else had joined in from across the flat. The Engineer Lieutenant pushed his head inside his neighbour's cabin:"Come along - come along! You'll be late for dinner. Fresh grub to-night: no more ` Russian Kromeskis ' and ` Fanny Adams ' !"

"One second . . . . Right!" They linked arms and entered the Wardroom as the President tapped the table for grace. The Surgeon scanned the menu with interest."Jasus ! Phwat diet!"he ejaculated, quoting from an old Service story,"Listen !"and read out �..

"Soup : Clear."

"That's boiled swabs,"interposed the Junior Watch-keeper.

"Mr President, sir, I object - this Officer's unladylike conversation."

"Round of port - fine him !"interrupted several laughing voices.

"Go on, Doc.; what next?"

"Fish : ` Mullets.'

"Main drain loungers,"from the Junior Watch-keeper."Isn't he a little Lord Fauntleroy - two rounds of port!

"Entree a Russian Kromeskis.... A roar of protest.

"And--- ?"

"Mutton cutlets."

"Goat, he means. What an orgie ! Go on; fain would we hear the worst, fair chirurgeon,"blathered the Paymaster."Joint ?"

"Joint; mutton or�.."

"Princely munificence,"murmured the First Lieutenant."He's not a messman : he's a�a�..what's the word?"

Philanthropist. What's the awful alternative?

"There isn't any; its scratched out."The A.P. and the Junior Watch-keeper clung to each other."The originality of the creature! And the a duff?"

"Rice-pudding."

"Ah me ! alack-a-day ! alas!"The Paymaster tore his hair."I must prophesy. must prophesy, �.shut up, every one! Shut up!"He closed his eyes and pawed the air feebly."I'm a medium. I'm going to prophesy. I feel it coming . . . . The savoury is . . . the savoury is"�..there was a moment's tense silence �."sardines on toast. He opened his eyes."Am I right, sir? Thank you."

The Surgeon leaned forward, and picking up the massive silver shooting trophy that occupied the centre of the table, handed it to a waiter.

"Take that to the Paymaster, please. First prize for divination and second sight. And you, Snatcher you'll go down for another round of port if you keep on laughing with your mouth full."

So the meal progressed. The"mullets"were disentangled from their paper jackets amid a rustling silence of interrogation. The Worcester sauce aided and abetted the disappearance of the Russian Kromeskis, as it had so often done before. The mutton was voted the limit, and the rice-pudding held evidences that the cook's hair wanted cutting. The Junior Watch-keeper���proud officer of that functionary's division - vowed he'd have it cut in a manner which calls for no description in these pages. There weren't any sardines on toast. The Philanthropist appeared in person, with dusky, upturned palms, to deplore the omission.

"Ow ! signor - olla fineesh ! I maka mistake! No have got sardines, signor . . . !"

"Dear old Ah Ying !"sighed the Engineer Lieutenant,"I never really loved him till this minute. Why did we leave him at Hong-Kong and embark this snake-in-the-grass .... . . . No sardines . . . !"

But for all that every one seemed to have made an admirable meal, and the Chaplain's"For what we have received, thank God!"brought it to a close. The table was cleared, the wine decanters passed round, and once again the President tapped with his ivory mallet. There was a little silence

"Mr Vice-----the King!"

The First Lieutenant raised his glass."Gentlemen-the King !"

"The King!"murmured the Mess, with faces grown suddenly decorous and grave. At that moment the Corporal, of the Watch entered; he glanced down the table, and approaching the Junior Watch-keeper's chair saluted and said something in an undertone.

The Junior Watch-keeper nodded, finished his port, and rose, folding his napkin. His neighbour, the Engineer Lieutenant, leaned back in his chair, speaking over his shoulder

"Your First Watch, James!"

The other nodded.

"Then,"with mock solemnity,"may I remind you that our lives are in your hands till twelve o'clock? Don't forget that, will you?"

The Junior Watch-keeper laughed."I'll bear it in mind."At the doorway he turned with a smile :"It won't be the first time your valuable life has been there."

"Or the last, we'll hope."

"We'll hope not, Shortie."

The buzz of talk and chaff had again begun to ebb and flow round the long table. The First Lieutenant lit a cigarette and began collecting napkin-rings, placing them eventually in a row, after the manner of horses at the starting-post."Seven to one on the field, bar one - Chief, your ring's disqualified. It would go through the ship's side. Now, wait for the next roll - stand by ! Clear that flower-pot ��"

"Disqualified be blowed ? Why, I turned it myself when I was a student, out of a bit of brass I stole����"

"Can't help that; it weighs a ton scratched at the post!"

The Commander tapped the table with his little hammer

"May I remind you all that it's Saturday Night at Sea?"and gave the decanters a little push towards his left-hand neighbour. The First Lieutenant brushed the starters into a heap at his side; the faintest shadow passed across his brow.

"So it is!"echoed several voices.

"Now, Shortie, fill up ! Snatcher, you'd better have a bucket . . . . ` There's a Burmah girl a-settin' an' I know she thinks,'�.port, Number One?"The First Lieutenant signed an imperceptible negation and pushed the decanter round, murmuring something about hereditary gout.

It was ten years since he had drunk that toast: since a certain tragic dawn, stealing into the bedroom of a Southsea lodging, found him an his knees at a bedside . . . . They all knew the story, as men in Naval Messes afloat generally do know each other's tragedies and joys. And yet his right-hand neighbour invariably murmured the same formula as he passed the wine on Saturday nights at sea. In its way it was considered a rather subtle intimation that no one wanted to pry into his sorrow - even to the extent of presuming that he would never drink that health again.

In the same way they all knew that it was the one occasion on which the little Engineer Lieutenant permitted himself the extravagance of wine. He was saving up to get married; and perhaps for the reason that he had never mentioned the fact, every one not only knew it, but loved and chaffed him for it.

The decanters travelled round, and the First Lieutenant leaned across to the Engineer Lieutenant, who was contemplatively watching the smoke of his cigarette. There was a whimsical smile in the grave, level eyes.

"I suppose we shall have to think about rigging a garland before long, eh?"

[A garland of evergreens is triced up to the triatic stay between the masts on the occasion of an officer's marriage.]

The other laughed half-shyly."Yes, before long, I hope, Number One."

Down came the ivory hammer

"Gentlemen �� Sweethearts and Wives!"

"And may they never meet I"added the Engineer Commander. In reality the most domesticated and blameless of husbands, it was the ambition of his life to be esteemed a sad dog, and that men should shake their heads over him crying"Fie !"

The First Lieutenant gathered together his silver rings."Now then, clear the table. She's rolling like a good 'un. Seven to one on the field, bar�.."

"Speech !"broke in the Paymaster."Speech, Shortie! Few words by a young officer about to embark on the troubled sea of matrimony. Hints on the Home��.."

The prospective bridegroom shook his head laughing, and coloured in a way rather pleasant to see. .He rose, pushing in his chair. In the inside pocket of his mess-jacket was an unopened letter, saved up to read over a pipe in peace.

"My advice to you all is....."

"'Don't,"' from the Engineer Commander.

"Mind your own business,"and the Engineer Lieutenant fled from the Mess amid derisive shouts of"Coward !"The voice of the First, Lieutenant rose above the hubbub

"Seven to one on the field-and what about a jump or two? Chuck up the menu-card, Pay. Now, boys, roll, bowl, or pitch . . . `Every time a blood - orange or a good see-gar�..!"

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

The Officer of the First Watch leaned out over the bridge rails, peering into the darkness that enveloped the forecastle, and listening intently. The breeze had freshened, and the cruiser slammed her way into a rising sea, labouring with the peculiar motion known as a"cork-screw roll": the night was very dark. Presently he turned and walked to the chart-house door inside, the Navigation Officer was leaning over the chart, wrinkling his brows as he pencilled a faint line.

"Pilot,"said the other,"just step out here second."

The Navigator looked up, pushing his cap from his forehead."What's up?"

"I think the starboard anchor is ` talking.' I wish you'd come and listen a moment."The Navigator stepped out on to the bridge, closing the chart-house door after him, and paused a moment to accustom his ayes to the darkness."Dark night, isn't it? Wind's getting up, too . . . ."He walked to the end of the bridge and leaned out. The ship plunged into a hollow with a little shudder and then flung her bows upwards into a cascade of spray. A dull metallic sound detached itself from the sibilant rushing of water and the beat of beat of waves against the ship's side, repeating faintly with each roll of the ship from the neighbourhood of the anchor-bed. The Navigator nodded:"Yes, . . . one of the securing chains wants tautening, I should say. * ` Saltash Luck' l for some one!"He moved back into the chart-house and picked up the parallel-rulers again.

[* A thorough wetting]

The Lieutenant of the Watch went to the head of the ladder and called the Boatswain's Mate, who was standing in the lee of the conning-tower yarning with the Corporal of the Watch

"Pipe the duty sub. of the watch to fall in with oilskins on; when they're present, take them on to the forecastle and set up the securing chain of the starboard bower-anchor. Something's worked loose. See that any one who goes outside the rail has a bowline on."

"Aye, aye, sir."The Boatswain's Mate descended the ladder, giving a few preliminary"cheeps"with his pipe before delivering himself of his tidings of"Saltash Luck"to the duty sub. of the port watch.

The Officer of the Watch gave an order to the telegraph-man on the bridge, and far below in the Engineroom they heard the clang of the telegraph gongs. He turned into the chart-house and open opened the ship's log, glancing at the clock as he did so. Then he wrote with a stumpy bit of pencil:

"9.18. Decreased speed to 6 knots. Duty Sub. secured starboard bower-anchor."

He returned to the bridge and leaned over the rail, straining his eyes into the darkness and driving spray towards the indistinct group of men working on the streaming forecastle. In the light of a swaying lantern he could make out a figure getting out on to the anchor-bed; another was turning up with a rope's end; he heard the faint click of a hammer on metal. The ship lurched and plunged abruptly into the trough of a sea. An oath, clear-cut and distinct, tossed aft on the wind, and a quick shout.

He turned aft and rushed to the top of the ladder, bawling down between. curved palms with all the strength of his lungs.

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

The Engineer Lieutenant who left the Wardroom after dinner did not immediately go on deck. He went first to his cabin, where he filled and lit a pipe, and changed his mess-jacket for a comfortable, loose-fitting monkey jacket. Then he settled down in his armchair, wedged his feet against the bunk to steady himself against the�..roll of the ship, and read his letter. Often as he read he smiled, and once he blinked a little, misty-eyed. The last sheet he re-read several times.

". . . Oh., isn't it good to think of ! It way almost worth the pain of separation to have this happiness now - to know that every minute is bringing you nearer. I wake up in the morning with that happy sort of feeling that something nice is going to happen soon - and then I realise: you are coming Home! I jump out of bed and tear another leaf off the calendar,�.there are only nine left now, and then comes one marked with a big cross . . . . Do you know the kind of happiness that hurts? Or is it only a girl who can feel it ? . . . I pray every night that the days may pass quickly, and that you may come safely."

It was a very ordinary little love-letter, with its shy admixture of love and faith and piety: the sort so few men ever earn, and so many (in Heaven's mercy) are suffered to receive. The recipient folded it carefully, replaced it in its envelope, and put it in his pocket. Then he lifted his head suddenly, listening . . . .

Down below, the Engine-room telegraph gong had clanged, and the steady beat o the engines slowed. With an eye on his wrist-watch he counted the muffled strokes of the piston . . . . Decreased to 6 knots. What was the matter? Fog? He rose and leaned over his bunk, peering through the scuttle. Quite clear. He decided to light a pipe and go on deck for a"breather"before turning in, and glanced at the little clock ticking on the bulkhead. Twenty past nine; ten minutes walk on the quarter-deck and then to bed. It was his middle watch.

As he left his cabin some one in the Wardroom began softly playing the piano, and the Paymaster's clear baritone joined in, singing a song about somebody's grey eyes watching for somebody else. The Mess was soaking in sentiment to-night: must be the effect of Saturday Night at Sea he reflected.

He reached the quarter-deck and stood looking round, swaying easily with the motion of the ship. The sea was getting up, and the wind blew a stream of tiny sparks from his pipe. Farther aft the sentry on the life-buoys was mechanically walking his beat, now toiling laboriously up a steep incline, now trying to check a too precipitous descent. The Engineer Lieutenant watched him for a moment, listening to the notes of the piano tinkling up through the open skylight from alas Wardroom.

"I know of two white arms

Waiting for me . . . '

The singer had started another verse; the Engineer Lieutenant smiled faintly, and walked to the ship's side to stare out. into the darkness. Why on earth had they slowed down? A sudden impatience filled him. Every minute was precious now. Why�����..

"MAN OVERBOARD. AWAY LIFEBOAT'S CREW!"Not for nothing had the Officer of the Watch received a"Masts and Yards"upbringing; the wind forward caught the stentorian shout and hurled it along the booms and battery, aft to the quarter-deck where the little Engineer Lieutenant was standing, one hand closed over the glowing bowl of his pipe, the other thrust into his trousers pocket.

The Engine-room telegraph began clanging furiously, the sound passing up the casings and ventilators into the night; then the Boatswain's Mate sent his ear-piercing pipe along the decks, calling away .the lifeboat's crew. The sentry on the life-buoys wrenched at the releasing knob of one of his charges and ran across to the other.

The leaden seconds passed, and the Engineer Lieutenant still stood beside the rail, mechanically knocking the ashes from his pipe . . . . Then something went past on the crest, of a wave: something white that might have been a man's face, or broken water showing up in the glare of a scuttle. . , . A sound out of the darkness that might have been the cry of a low-.flying gull.

Now it may be argued that the Engineer Lieutenant ought to have stayed where he was. Going overboard on such a night was too risky for a man whose one idea was to get home as quickly as possible�. who; a moment before, had chafed at the delay of reduced speed. Furthermore, he had in his pocket a letter bidding him some home safely; and for three years he had denied himself his little luxuries for love of her who wrote it . . . .

All the same-would she have him stand and wonder if that was a gull he had heard . . . ?

Love of women, Love of life .... ? Mighty factors���almost supreme. Yet a mortal has stayed in a wrecked stokehold, amid the scalding steam, to find and shut a valve; Leper Settlements have their doctors and pastor; and"A very gallant Gentleman"'walks unhesitatingly into an Antarctic blizzard, to show there is a love stronger and higher even than these.

The Engineer Lieutenant was concerned with none of these fine thoughts. For one second he did pause, looking about as if for somewhere to put his pipe. Then he tossed it on to the deck, scrambled over `the rail, took a deep breath, and dived.

The Marine sentry ran to the side of the ship.

"Christ!"he gasped, and forsook his post, to cry the tale aloud along the seething battery.

The ship shuddered"as the engines were reversed, and the water under the stern began to seethe and churn. The Commander had left his cabin, and was racing up to the bridge, as the Captain reached the quarterdeck. A knot of officers gathered on the after-bridge.

"Pin's out, sir!"shouted the Coxswain of the sea-boat, and added under his breath,

Oars all ready, lads! Stan' by to pull like bloody 'ell - there's two of 'em in the ditch . . . ."The boat was hanging a few feet above the tumbling water.

"Slip !"shouted a voice from the invisible fore-bridge. An instant's pause, and the boat dropped with a crash on to a rising wave. There was a clatter and thud of oars in rowlocks; the clanking of the chain-slings, and the boat, with her motley-clad [Any one near the boat responds to the call "Away Lifeboat's crew !"] life-belted crew, slid off down the slant of a wave. For a moment the glare of an electric light lit the faces of the men, tugging and straining grimly at their oars; then she vanished, to reappear a moment later on the crest of a sea, and disappeared again into the darkness.

The Commander on the fore-bridge snatched up a megaphone, shouting down-wind

"Pull to starboard, cutter! Make for the life-buoy light!"

The watchers on the after-bridge were peering into the night with binoculars and glasses. The A.P. extended an arm and forefinger"There's the life-buoy-there ! . . . Now there ! D'you see it ? You can just see the flare when it lifts on a. wave. . . . Ah ! That's better!"

The dazzling white beam from a search-light on the fore-bridge leaped suddenly into the night."Now we can see the cutter�"the beam wavered a moment and finally steadied."Yea, there they are . . . . I say, there's a devil of a sea running."

"Ripping sea - boats our Service cutters are,"said another, staring through his glasses." They'll live in almost anything; but this isn't a dangerous sea. The skipper'll turn in a minute and make a lee for them.""Think old Shortie reached the buoy?"

"Probably swimming about looking for the other fellow, if I know anything of him; who did he go in after?"

"One of the duty sub; they were securing the anchor or something forward, and the bowline slipped"

"By gad! He's got him! There's the buoy - yes, two of them. Good old Shortie . . . . My God ! Good old Shortie !"The speaker executed a sort of war-dance and trod on the Paymaster's toes.

"When you've quite finished, Snatcher . . . . By the way, what about hot-water bottles-blankets-stimulants . . . . First aid �. come along! ` Assure the patient in a loud voice that he is safe.' . . . ` Aspect cheerful but subdued. . . . I learned the whole rigmarole once!"

From the fore upper bridge the Captain was handling his ship like a picket-boat.

"'Midships - steady ! Stop both!"He raised his mouth from the voice-pipe to the helmsman, and nodded to the Officer of the Watch."She'll do now . . . The wind'll take her down."

The Commander leaned over the rail and called the Boatswain's Mate........

"Clear lower deck! Man the falls!"

The ranks of men along the ship's side turned inboard, and passed the ropes aft, in readiness to hoist the boat. There were three hundred men on the falls, standing by to whisk the cutter to the davit-heads like a cockle-shell.

"They've got 'em-got 'em both!"murmured the deep voices: they spat impatiently.

"What say, lads? Stamp an' go with 'er ?"

"Silence in the battery! Marry !"

The Commander was leaning over the bridge rails; the Surgeon and two Sick-berth Stewards were waiting by the davits. Alongside the cutter was rising and falling on the waves . . . .

"All right, sir!"The voice of the Coxswain came up as if from the deep. They had hooked the plunging boat on somehow, and his thumb-nail was a pulp . . . .

Three hundred pairs of eyes turned towards the forebridge.

"Hoist away!"

No need for the Boatswain's Mate to echo the order; no need for the Petty Officers'"With a will, then, lads!"They rushed aft in a wild stampede, hauling with every ounce of beef and strength in their bodies. The cutter, dripping, swaying, crew fending her off the rolling ship with their stretchers, shot up to the davits.

"High 'nough !"

The rush stopped like one man. Another pull on the after-fall-enough. She was hoisted."Walk back ! . . . .Lie to !"

A tense silence fell upon the crowded battery: the only sound that of men breathing hard. A limp figure was seen descending ,the Jacob's ladder out of the boat, assisted by two of the crew. Ready hands were outstretched to help, and the next moment Willie Sparling, Ordinary Seaman, Official Number 13728, was once more on the deck of a man-of-war - a place he never expected to see again.

"Ow !"He winced,"Min' my shoulder - it's 'urted .... . . ."He looked round at the familiar faces lit by the electric lights, and jerked his head back at the boat hanging from her davits. `E saved my life - look after 'im. 'E's a . . e's a - bleedin' 'ero, . . ."and Willie Sparling, with a broken collar-bone, collapsed dramatically enough.

The Engineer Lieutenant swung himself down on to the upper deck and stooped to wring the water from his trousers. The Surgeon seized him by the arm......

"Come along, Shortie ---- in between the blankets with you!"

The hero of the moment disengaged his arm and shook himself like a terrier."Blankets be blowed - it's my Middle Watch."

The Surgeon laughed."Plenty of time for that: it's only just after half-past nine. What about a hot toddy?"

"Lord! I thought I'd been in the water for hours . . . . Yes, by Jove! a hot toddy --"He paused and looked round, his face suddenly anxious."By the way, . . . any one seen a pipe sculling about . . . ?"

Down below the telegraph gongs clanged, and the ship's bows swung round on to her course, heading once more for England, Home, and, Beauty.

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