"James," said the India-rubber Man, "don't look so miserable! I know
how sorry you are for us all. But we're going through with it, old
man, like Britons."
"That's right," agreed the Paymaster. "We shall think of you, James,
and the Commander, and the P.M.O., and all our happy messmates who are
staying onboard for the refit. It makes going on leave easier to bear
when we think of your smiling faces."
Thorogood turned away. "You're funny little fellows, aren't you?" he
said dourly.
The Young Doctor caught the ball and sent it rolling on.
"We shall think of the pneumatic riveter at work over your heads; we
shall think of the blithe chatter of the dockyard maties all over the
ship, and the smell of the stuff they stick the corticene down with ...
and we shall face the sad days ahead of us with renewed courage, James,
old man."
"Thank you all," replied Thorogood gravely. "Thank you for your
beautiful words. Give my love to Mouldy if any of you see him"--the
speaker glanced over the side. "And now I have much pleasure in
informing you that the boat is alongside, and the sooner you all get
into it the sooner to sleep, as the song says."
The Midshipmen were already scrambling down the ladder, carrying their
bags and coats, and the Wardroom Officers followed. Farewells and
parting shafts of humour floated up from the sternsheets; Thorogood
stood at the top of the gangway and waved adieu with his telescope as
the boat shoved off and circled round the stern towards the
landing-place. For a moment he stood looking after the smiling faces
and waving caps and then turned inboard with a sigh.
"Liberty men present, sir!" The Master-at-Arms and Sergeant-Major made
their reports and Thorogood moved forward, passing briskly down the
lanes of motionless figures and shiny, cheerful countenances.
"Carry on," he said, and acknowledged the salute of the Chief of Police
and the Sergeant of Marines.
The men filed over the side and took their places in the boats waiting
alongside, and as they sheered off from the ship in tow of the launch
and followed in the wake of the distant picket-boat, the closely packed
men suddenly broke into a tempest of cheering.
The Captain was walking up and down the quarterdeck talking to the
Commander. He smiled as the tumult of sound floated across the water.
"I wonder they managed to bottle it up as long as they have," he said.
"Bless 'em! They've earned their drop of leave if ever men did." They
took a few turns in silence. "I hope to get away to-night," continued
the Captain, "if they put us in dock this afternoon. When are you
going for your leave, Hornby?"
The Commander ran his eye over the superstructure and rigging of the
foremast. "Oh, I don't know, sir," he said. "I hadn't thought about
it much.... I think I'll get that new purchase for the fore-derrick
rove to-morrow...."
The colour had gone out of the sunset, and in the pale green sky at the
head of the valley a single star appeared.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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