The Navy eternal : $b which is the Navy-that-Floats, the Navy-that-Flies and the Navy-under-the-SeaBartimeus
History
The Navy eternal : $b which is the Navy-that-Floats, the Navy-that-Flies and the Navy-under-the-Sea
Bartimeus
Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Fiction; Sea stories; War stories; World War, 1914-1918 -- Naval operations, British -- Fiction
A few months later the officers of the flotilla to which the boat had
belonged were asked to elect a sponsor for the little son of their dead
comrade. Now since the life of any one of them was no very certain
pledge, they chose three: of whom one was the best boxer, another the
best footballer, and the third owned the lowest golf handicap in their
community. In due course the boy was destined to become a submarine
officer also, and it behoved the Submarine Service to see that he was
brought up in such a way as to be best fitted for that service, sure of
hand and heart and eye.
Thus in life and death the spirit of the Navy-under-the-Sea endures
triumphant. Prating they leave to others, content to follow their unseen
ways in silence and honour. Whoever goes among them for a while learns
many lessons; but chiefly perhaps they make it clear that the best of
Life is its humour, and of Death the worst is but a brief
forgetting....
[Illustration]
CHAPTER IX
THE PORT LOOK-OUT
There is a tendency among some people to regard war as a morally
uplifting pursuit. Because a man fights in the cause of right and
freedom, it is believed by quite a large section of those who don’t
fight that he goes about the business in a completely regenerate
spirit, unhampered by any of the human failings that were apt to beset
him in pre-war days. Be that as it may, Able Seaman Pettigrew, wearer of
no good conduct badges and incorrigible leave-breaker in peace-time,
remained in war merely Able Seaman Pettigrew, leave-breaker, and still
minus good conduct badges.
He stood at the door of a London public-house, contemplating the night
distastefully. The wind howled down the muddy street, and the few lamps
casting smears of yellow light at intervals along the thoroughfare only
served to illuminate the driving rain. His leave expired at 7 a.m. the
following morning, and he had just time to catch the last train to
Portsmouth that night. To do Mr. Pettigrew justice, he had completed the
first stage of his journey--the steps of the public-house--with that
laudable end in view. Here, however, he faltered, and as he faltered he
remembered a certain hospitable lady of his acquaintance who lived south
of the river.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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