Krame pointed to where the junior midshipmen stood in single rank. “These six young gentlemen,” he said “have not yet been christened. They are--what’s the word?--unregenerate. As I, being Senior Midshipman in this ’ere Gunroom, am responsible for the young gentlemen’s spiritual, bodily, and moral welfare, I propose to christen them. Therefore water, Elstone.” “I knew all about that,” said Elstone, “but what I mean is, why not christen them in crême de menthe? It’s stickier.” Howdray’s great voice shouted in protest. “And whose wine bill is to go down the young gentlemen’s necks?” “Besides,” said Tintern solemnly, “it would ruin their shirts, you know.” “Damn their shirts!” Krame answered. “They can buy new ones, can’t they? They ought to be rich enough. They don’t spend their money on anything, so far as I can see--no women, no card bill, no extra extras, no wine bill to speak of.... But I’m with you, Howdray. We won’t waste crême de menthe on them.” “It might go down to themselves,” Banford-Smith kindly suggested. “Lot of good that would be,” Howdray grumbled, “seeing that we have their wine bills.” “Water be it,” said Krame. “The jug’s on the slab, Elstone. Howdray, the biscuits are in my locker, just above your head.” From his place in the line John watched Howdray climb on to the settee and fetch the material for the christening. Krame and Elstone sat at the end of the table, Elstone next the pantry hatch and Krame nearer the ship’s side. On Krame’s left was Howdray, now sliding back into his place and arranging the huge ship’s biscuits on the table in front of him. Further for’ard, sprawling on the settee, and engaged in a competition of blowing smoke-rings at their liqueur glasses, were Tintern and Banford-Smith, who seemed less interested than the others in the business of the evening. Elstone regarded it, perhaps thoughtlessly, as a tremendous joke; Howdray was frankly a bully of the old fashion, great in bulk but not in strength, good-humoured on occasions, happy-go-lucky, for ever at war with authority, a creature of vast appetites and weak control. Only Krame seemed to derive genuine pleasure from the proceedings. He possessed a quick, almost brilliant mind. He was handsome, popular in polite shore-going circles, an efficient officer, admired, on account of his easy manner and soft, smiling lips, by women and by men whose acquaintance with him was but superficial. He enjoyed Gunroom Evolutions. He used to tell his dance partners about them. It pleased him to play the autocrat in Oriental style, to see human beings--no matter at what cost in pain to themselves--subjected to his will. Even as John watched him, he called the junior midshipmen to attention and stood them at ease again half a dozen times in quick succession, not because by doing so he served any purpose, but because he liked to hear his own voice giving orders. He smiled complacently to see them spring to attention at his behest. He