Читать книгу: «H.M.S. –», страница 9

"Well, Boy," said the lady, "and what sort of a time did they give you in hospital?"

"Oh – quite decent, you know; but mighty little to eat. I believe they put every one on low diet as soon as they get there just to keep them humble and quiet."

"Well, your mother's just dying to feed you up, so you'll get awfully fat soon. How's the hand?"

The Boy stretched out his left arm and showed a suspiciously inert-looking brown glove. "Only three fingers gone and some bits missing. It's stopped my golf all right, though."

"But you'll still be able to hunt and shoot and you'll work up some sort of a golf handicap again when you're used to it. What was the battle like, Boy?"

"Oh – just the usual sort of destroyer scrap. We saw them first in our packet, and so we got most of it. It was a good scrap, though."

"Will you be able to go to sea again, or will they – ?"

The Boy flushed and leaned back. "Of course I will – I've got a hand and a half, and they can't stick me in a shore job when I've got that much." The lady put a hand swiftly out and rested it on the padded brown glove. "Of course they can't. Sorry, Boy. I never thought they would, you know." The Boy instantly brought his right hand across, and, catching the sympathetic hand that lay on his glove, kissed it with decision. He then leaned back again to the musty padding of the cab, rather shocked at his own temerity. The lady, however, showed no signs of confusion at all.

"How long sick leave did they give you? Do you have to go back to the hospital, or do you just report at the Admiralty?"

"I don't know, – look here, when are we going to be engaged?"

"When we're old enough, Boy – if you're good. Are you going to be?"

"That's a bet," said the Boy firmly. "So long as I know it's going to be all right, I'll be awfully good. What are you going to do with me on leave? I can't dig trenches for peas now – at least, not properly."

"No; but if you took a little more interest in the subject, you'd know that at this time of year you can pick them. Now, here's your house, and you're going in to see your mother, and I'm going home; and you're not to laugh at her if she cries, and – pay attention, Boy – there's no need for you to wear that glove on your hand; she isn't a baby any more than I am."

AN URGENT COURTSHIP

[Written with a lot of assistance from a partner.]

The solitary figure in the R.N. Barracks smoking-room rose, stretched himself, and lounged across to a table to change his evening paper for a later edition.

"Hullo! old sportsman. Where's everybody?"

The "sportsman" – a precise-looking surgeon who wore a wound-stripe on his cuff – looked round from the litter of newspapers he had been turning over.

"Why, lumme! if it ain't James the Giant-Killer. Here, waiter! Hi! Two sherry – quick! What the deuce brings you here, James?"

"Just down from the North, – joining the Great Harry to-morrow. Where's every one? Is there an air-raid on, and were the cellars too full for you, my hack-saw expert?"

"They were not. They're damn near empty, worse luck. But the Depôt Boxing is on to-night, and I'd be there too, only it's my turn for guard. It's no good your going now, you old pug; they'll finish in half an hour, and it's a mile away."

"Oh! Well, I'm tired, anyway. I want dinner and then a bed. Of all filthy games, give me a war-time train journey. I've found a cabin here, and I found a bath, and I won't quarrel with any one for an hour or two."

"Then, you may as well keep the cabin while you've got it, because the Great Harry is having her mountings altered, and won't commission for a week yet."

James Rainer swivelled round in his chair to take the sherry glass from the waiter. "Here's luck, Doc. I thought she commissioned to-morrow, though."

"Gun trials to-day, and the experts didn't like her. Not much wrong, I believe, but she's delayed a week. Here's long life and a – " The surgeon paused and put his glass down. James Rainer stared at him somewhat truculently.

"James, my boy, I was forgetting. Your little flapper's here. Ah! I see you know all about that."

"Doc. – you're an ass; I wasn't thinking of that at all."

The surgeon leaned back in his arm-chair and prepared to enjoy himself.

"Ah! James, me old friend – pot companion of me youth! What a chicken-butcher you are! If only you hadn't been so young; two years ago, was it not? How the years do roll on, to be sure. And what a little romance it was – the blue-eyed flag-lieutenant and the admiral's daughter —always the first two down to breakfast. And we used to hear, too, in the Yard, of the little expeditions when you were detailed to take her back to school and —No! hands off! Would you touch me with a cheild in me arrms? Let me go and I'll tell you all about her – and look out for my drink, you great ruffian."

"Never mind your drink." James released the surgeon's head from under his arm and sat down again. "Is she down here?"

"She is, James – and she's a devilish pretty girl now, too. If it wasn't that we're most of us crocks here we'd – "

A signalman entered and glanced inquiringly round the room.

"Who is it for, signalman? Anybody hurt?"

"No, sir." The man looked at his signal-pad again. "Send despatch officer to Admiralty House instantly."

"Help!" The surgeon turned to Rainer. "There's only one available to-night, and he's at the Boxing. It's probably only stuff to be brought back here. What about – ? But I forgot, you're tired, aren't you? They'd better telephone."

Rainer picked up his cap. "I'm not supposed to join till to-morrow night, and I'm going even if it means another filthy railway journey. 'Night, Doc!"

The door banged decisively, and the surgeon chuckled at some deep jest of his own.

Vice-Admiral Sir Charles Woodcote grunted ferociously as a knock sounded at his study door.

"Come in!" he barked. "Who is it?"

He looked up to see a tall clean-shaven lieutenant enter – a broad-shouldered athletic figure with a heavy jaw and twinkling grey eyes.

"Eh – Rainer, how are you, my boy? I was expecting the despatch officer."

"Yes, sir; but as I was at a loose end at the barracks I came myself. I'm joining the – "

"The Great Harry– yes, so you are. Well, it's a long time since I saw you. You must come and dine with us before you sail. Now, you'd better get off with these. I'm going to send you in the car." He pressed a bell and a seaman entered. "The big car at once, and the headlights. Tell Thompson to hurry up."

"Please, sir, Thompson's hurt his wrist, sir. Starting the – "

"Confound Thompson – he's always doing it. Why does he do it? Eh? Eh? You can't tell me? Tell Miss Ruth to get the other car round at once, d'you hear?"

"Now, Rainer," said the Admiral, "here's the despatch. Take it to Shortholme aerodrome, and bring a receipt back, d'you hear? and keep that girl of mine out of mischief. Come in!"

The door opened, and a slim leather-coated figure appeared. Rainer tried to keep his eyes on the Admiral, but failed dismally, his efforts resulting in a distressing squint. His flapper of two years ago was now a calm, self-possessed, and extremely pretty girl, who, in her rôle of amateur chauffeur, did not seem even to be aware of his presence in the room.

"The car is ready, father," she said, and vanished, leaving the startled Rainer gaping at a vision of neat black gaiters beneath her short skirt.

"Well, you'd better get on then," said the Admiral. "But, by the way, tell Forrest – Wing-Commander Forrest – to keep an eye on his machines. There are three German prisoners loose near here – two pilots and a mechanic from their Flying Corps. They may try and steal a machine to get away on. Tell him to lock up his hangars, or whatever he calls the things, and – all right – get on – get on. What are you waiting for?"

Rainer, nothing loath, took his dismissal. He hurried across the hall, cramming the despatch, in its stiff parchment envelope, into the inside pocket of his overcoat as he went. The car was standing purring at the door, a leakage of light from the side-lamps shining on a demure little face behind the screen, and showing him also that the back near-side door was standing invitingly open.

"You little darling," he thought, "as if you didn't know what you are in for." He firmly closed the back door, sat down in the vacant front seat, and reached over to pull in a rug from behind him. As he did so the clutch was gently engaged and the car slid quietly down the drive.

"It's jolly nice your driving me like this, Miss Woodcote," he said. "Do you drive many despatch officers?"

"Why, yes, Mr Rainer; Thompson and I take turns at it."

"Are you an official chauffeur, then?"

"I have been for some time now."

"Always here?"

"No, I was at Portsmouth a bit."

"Indeed? How far is it to Shortcombe?"

"About twenty miles, by this road."

"You didn't seem surprised to see me in your father's study."

The car dodged round a tram and began a louder purr as it felt the open road ahead.

"Well, Hickson told me you had come."

"Oh! he did, did he? Did Hickson tell you anything else?"

"Yes; and I don't think it's quite nice for an officer to bribe a butler to write and tell him things about his master's daughter."

"Well, I'm damned. Hickson is a scoundrel. I told him he wasn't to."

"Well, he did tell. I made him. And I think it was very wrong of you."

"But I'd always looked after you before, and it's only natural I should like to hear you weren't getting into trouble after my eagle eye had left you."

"Never mind about eagle eyes. It was very rude, and it mustn't go on."

"It won't. I promise you."

Miss Woodcote, a little piqued at such easy acquiescence, drove in silence for a few minutes, then, unable to restrain her curiosity, fell into the trap.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so. It was a silly thing to do."

"Yes, it was, perhaps. But the necessity for it has gone now, so I don't mind."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, I'm going to marry you now you're grown up, so – "

"Will you please stop talking nonsense?"

"Will you marry me?"

"No."

"Well, that's one proposal over. I think a girl can't be very distant with a man who's proposed to her, can she? It implies a certain intimacy, so to speak…?"

"No."

"It means, you see, a secret shared together, and that should…"

A stony silence.

"Of course – it's not the only secret we've had together. There was the matter of the fire in the kitchen, when we were making toffee and upset the paraffin…"

Still silence.

"You know two years ago I was going to marry you if I could, and I knew that you – "

"What did you know?"

"Well, you knew I'd never let you marry any one else."

"Mr Rainer – will you please be quiet? I don't want to speak to you."

"Damn," said Rainer, leaning back sulkily.

"And don't swear, please."

Rainer sat up again. "Haven't I got cause for swearing? We've come ten miles and I wanted to kiss you before we'd done twenty. You're wasting time, you know."

"I don't want to kiss any one, and certainly not you."

Rainer's confidence began to evaporate slightly. This was not quite the flapper he had known. He sighed heavily, and, leaning back again, turned slightly away from her, wishing that he had eyes in the back of his head.

Miss Woodcote, secure in the knowledge that he was not so favoured by nature, had glanced three times in his direction before the trouble started. The car whirled round a corner, its speed regulated more by the state of the driver's temper than by good judgment, and the headlights shone full on a heavy farm cart which lay right across the road. There was a grinding of brakes, a lurch and skid, and Rainer had just time to throw a protecting arm across Ruth as the collision occurred. The screen went to pieces as the headlights went out, and the frightened Rainer and the extremely angry chauffeuse stared at each other in the dim glow of the side-lamps.

"Are you hurt? Are you all right? Ruth…"

"The beasts, the beasts. I've never hit anything before. Oh! Just look at all the glass."

The tone of her voice reassured the trembling lover beside her, and rising to his feet, he began to shed his overcoat.

"Cheer up," he said. "There mayn't be as much damage as you think. We'll have a look at it. Hullo!"

Two dark figures showed by the near side of the bonnet, and a harsh voice rasped out: "Out of the car and put your hands up. Quickly, now, or you'll get hurt."

Rainer obeyed part of the order with startling alacrity. This was a straightforward and simple problem to deal with compared with the attempt to instil sense into an unreasonable, albeit delightful, girl. His overcoat dropped to the floor-boards and he landed on the road at the same moment. Two to one in a bad light was very fair odds, he felt, and he only regretted that he had not got his gloves on, as he foresaw broken knuckles for himself by the morning.

He shuffled forward a few feet and went in for his left-hand adversary. The left feint was only a concession to orthodoxy, but the right hook which followed it was delivered with a grunt and twist that meant business. He sprang back at once behind the side-lamp, perfectly satisfied that the recipient of the blow was going to be a sleeping partner for some minutes at least. The second man came forward a little doubtfully, swearing in excellent German. Rainer heard a cry from Ruth and turned half round. A third opponent had appeared from behind the car, and a club or heavy stick was whirling over his head. For an instant Rainer hesitated, then tried to jump in under the weapon. He felt as he did so that it was too late, but he arrived safely on his man's chest, clutching for the upraised arm. The left hand seized something it had not expected to find – a girl's hand in a leather glove. The club-man roared with rage, swung round and struck savagely behind him. Rainer had a glimpse of a white face going down, and a little moan of pain from the ground sent him berserk. An arm came around his throat from behind, and he knew that what he had to do must be done quickly. He tripped the club-man and hurled himself sideways and back. The three figures, swaying and straining together, struck the car and came down. Rainer felt the arm round his neck slip and change to a hand. The owner of the hand instantly began to regret this, as Rainer's teeth were not only in good condition but had a grip like a bull-dog's. The club-man began to scream, and not without reason. To be held against a car-wheel by a twelve-stone rough-and-tumble expert who doesn't mind being killed if only he leaves his mark on you, is a bad position for any man to be in. Rainer's hands were on his throat, the knuckles working and straining upwards for the carotids, and Rainer's legs were quietly but surely engaged in breaking his left ankle.

Then the man with the prisoned hand began to talk rapidly, and Rainer threw his reserve strength into his hands. He knew what was coming. His first opponent had awakened. He felt the man behind him wriggle his body clear, and then came a smashing concussion. With a feeling of regret that he had not been allowed another ten seconds' grip he sank into oblivion.

Two men rose from beside him and leaned panting and gasping against the car. One of them subsided and sat on the running board, his breath rasping and tearing in his throat. The man who had felt Rainer's punch dropped the club, took off a side-lamp and made a hasty examination of the front of the car. Returning, he spoke in short abrupt sentences to the others, and assisted the seated man to his feet with a kick. The three stood and listened for a moment, then broke through the hedge and vanished into the night.

It seemed to Rainer in his dreams that his ship was coaling. He could hear the crash and rattle and roar of the winches, and there was a gritty taste in his mouth as if he was working in the collier's hold. He spat out a mouthful of dust and lifted his head. No – they weren't coaling. He was lying against a very hard and nobbly car, and he had a devil of a headache. He considered the situation a moment, and then woke up suddenly with a cold feeling of fear. He rose and steadied himself by a wing, then looked round. Yes, there she was, a few feet away, and at the sight of her his strength came back. He knelt down and lifted her shoulders. She moved a little and moaned. With trembling fingers he felt the top of her head and found that the cap was gone, and that there was a suspiciously sticky lump on her forehead. He felt for his handkerchief, but remembered that it was in his overcoat. Lifting the girl in his arms he tottered to the car and sat down in the front seat, while he searched the coat pockets. He found the handkerchief, and noted, as a side-issue, that the despatches were still there. Unscrewing the filling cap of the petrol tank he plunged the handkerchief in, but turned his head at a voice at his elbow.

"Jim! What are you doing?"

"Thank God! Ruth, lie still. I'm going to put some petrol on your head."

"Ooo!" The lady had straightened up in her seat. "My poor head – it does hurt. Jim! if you put petrol on my head I'll never marry you."

"But, darling – I – "

"Don't do it. Have you got the despatches?"

"Yes. I don't think they were after them. Ruth, d'you know that chap would have brained me if you hadn't tackled him?"

"Why did you kiss me just before I woke up?"

"I didn't. I swear I didn't."

"You did. I know you did."

"I – I – Ruth, were you angry?"

"Don't you think you might see if you can move the car, or do something useful?"

"Ruth, were you? Ruth, I say – "

"Jim, there's a car coming. All right, be quick. That will do. There, you old brute – now go and meet that car. Give me your hanky."

Rainer reluctantly dodged round the farm cart, holding a side-lamp in his hand. The headache was forgotten, and the world seemed a remarkably pleasant place in spite of bruises and stiff joints. The car pulled up and a group of figures came towards him. "Hullo," said one, "what's all this?"

Rainer recognised the speaker. "That you Deane?" he replied. "Three escaped Huns have attacked us. They've gone now. I was bringing despatches for the Wing-Commander, but they didn't get them. Miss Woodcote's in the car. She's smashed – the car, I mean – and she's had a blow on the head from a club."

"Lord! Those are our men. They walked out to one of our machines at dusk just after it landed, but they ran when they were challenged. We're after them now."

"Well, they can't get far. One's groggy and one's lame. What about Miss Woodcote? She'll have to be sent home. She's got a nasty crack on the head."

"We'll send her to Admiralty House in this lorry. Give me the despatches and you go back with her. I'm going to spread my men out and hunt the fields. They must have been after your car."

Rainer walked back as the air-mechanics began to move the farm cart out of the road. "Ruth," he said, "we're going back on this lorry. I've handed the despatches over, and I'm going to take you home."

"Only ten miles, Jim, and you expected forty, didn't you?"

"I did, but I hoped to have kissed you all the last twenty of them, you little angel."

"Well, Jim, it looks a very dark lorry, doesn't it? But as for kissing me in the other car – Well, you may have decided on the last twenty miles, but I had arranged for the last hundred yards up the drive. Why? You silly old thing. I can't do two things properly at once, and I made up my mind when we started I was not going to be kissed when I was driving. Carry me across carefully, Jim, dear. I'm feeling rather fragile now…"

LOOKING AFT

 
I'm the donkey-man of a dingy tramp
They launched in 'Eighty-one,
Rickety, old, and leaky too – but some o' the rivets are shining new
Beneath our after-gun.
 
 
An' she an' meself are off to sea
From out o' the breaker's hands,
An' we laugh to find such an altered game, for devil a thing we found the same
When we came off the land.
 
 
We used to carry a freight of trash
That younger ships would scorn,
But now we're running a decent trade – howitzer-shell and hand-grenade,
Or best Alberta corn.
 
 
We used to sneak an' smouch along
Wi' rusty side an' rails,
Hoot an' bellow of liners proud – "Give us the room that we're allowed;
Get out o' the track – the Mails!"
 
 
We sometimes met – an' took their wash —
The 'aughty ships o' war,
An' we dips to them – an' they to us – an' on they went in a tearin' fuss,
But now they count us more.
 
 
For now we're "England's Hope and Pride" —
The Mercantile Marine, —
"Bring us the goods and food we lack, because we're hungry, Merchant Jack"
(As often I have been).
 
 
"You're the man to save us now,
We look to you to win;
Wot'd yer like? A rise o' pay? We'll give whatever you like to say,
But bring the cargoes in."
 
 
An' here we are in the danger zone,
Wi' escorts all around,
Destroyers a-racing to and fro – "We will show you the way to go,
An' guide you safe an' sound."
 
 
"An' did you cross in a comfy way,
Or did you have to run?
An' is the patch on your hull we see the mark of a bump in 'Ninety-three,
Or the work of a German gun?"
 
 
"We'll lead you now, and keep beside,
An' call to all the Fleet,
Clear the road and sweep us in – he carries a freight we need to win,
A golden load of wheat."
 
 
Yes, we're the hope of England now,
And rank wi' the Navy too;
An' all the papers speak us fair – "Nothing he will not lightly dare,
Nothing he fears to do."
 
 
"Be polite to Merchant Jack,
Who brings you in the meat,
For if he went on a striking lay, you'd have to go on your knees and pray,
With never a bone to eat."
 
 
But you can lay your papers down
An' set your fears aside,
For we will keep the ocean free – we o' the clean an' open sea —
To break the German pride.
 
 
We won't go canny or strike for pay,
Or say we need a rest;
But you get on wi' the blinkin' War – an' not so much o' your strikes ashore,
Or givin' the German best.