English fiction -- 20th century; English poetry -- 20th century; Short stories, English; World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
“I was in a hurry,” said Maddingham. “I wanted to get to the Narrows
and wait for my Neutral there. I dropped down to Biller and Grove’s
yard that tide (they’ve done all my work for years) and I jammed
_Hilarity_ into the creek behind their slip, so the Newt didn’t spot me
when he came down the river. Then I pulled out and followed him over
the Bar. He stood nor-west at once. I let him go till we were well out
of sight of land. Then I overhauled him, gave him a gun across the bows
and ran alongside. I’d just had my lunch, and I wasn’t going to lose my
temper _this_ time. I said: ‘Excuse me, but I understand you are bound
for Antigua?’ He was, he said, and as he seemed a little nervous about
my falling aboard him in that swell, I gave _Hilarity_ another sheer
in--she’s as handy as a launch--and I said: ‘May I suggest that this is
not the course for Antigua?’ By that time he had his fenders overside,
and all hands yelling at me to keep away. I snatched _Hilarity_ out
and began edging in again. He said: ‘I’m trying a sample of inferior
oil that I have my doubts about. If it works all right I shall lay my
course for Antigua, but it will take some time to test the stuff and
adjust the engines to it.’ I said: ‘Very good, let me know if I can be
of any service,’ and I offered him _Hilarity_ again once or twice--he
didn’t want her--and then I dropped behind and let him go on. Wasn’t
that proper, Portson?”
Portson nodded. “I know that game of yours with _Hilarity_,” he said.
“How the deuce do you do it? My nerve always goes at close quarters in
any sea.”
“It’s only a little trick of steering,” Maddingham replied with a
simper of vanity. “You can almost shave with her when she feels like
it. I had to do it again that same evening, to establish a moral
ascendancy. He wasn’t showing any lights, and I nearly tripped over
him. He was a scared Neutral for three minutes, but I got a little
of my own back for that damned court-martial. _But_ I was perfectly
polite. I apologised profusely. I didn’t even ask him to show his
lights.”
“But did he?” said Winchmore.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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