by Bartimeus
*XVIII.*
*THE SEVENTH DAY.*
The Sub-Lieutenant clanked into the Gunroom and surveyed the apartmentcritically. The Junior Midshipmen stationed at each scuttle fell toburnishing the brass butterfly nuts with sudden and anxious renewal ofenergy.
"Stinks of beer a bit," observed the Sub., "but otherwise it's allright. Hide that 'Pink 'Un' under the table-cloth, one of you." As hespoke the notes of a bugle drifted down the hatchway. "There you are!Officers' Call! Clear out of it, sharp!" Hastily they tucked away thepossible cause of offence to their Captain, bundled their cleaning-ragsinto a cupboard, snatched their dirks off the rack, and hurried on deck.
On the quarter-deck the remainder of the Officers were assembling inanswer to the summons of the bugle. Frock-coated figures clanked to andfro, struggling with refractory white gloves. Under the supervision ofa bearded Petty Officer the Quarter-deck men were hurriedly putting thefinishing touches to neatly coiled boats' falls and already gleamingmetal-work. It was 9 A.M. on a Sunday forenoon, and the ship waswithout stain or blemish from her gilded truck to her freshly paintedwater-line. All the working hours of the previous day--what time thecitizen ashore donned "pearlies" or broadcloth and shut up shop--theblue-jacket had been burnishing and scrubbing,--a lick of paint here,there a scrap of gold-leaf or a pound of elbow-grease. And pervadingthe ship was the comfortless atmosphere of an organisation, normally ina high state of adjustment, strained yet a point higher.
The Commander came suddenly out of the Captain's cabin and nodded to theOfficer of the Watch.
"Sound off with the bell."
The buglers, drawn up in line at the entrance to the battery, moistenedtheir lips in anticipation and raised their bugles. The Corporal of theWatch stepped to the bell and jerked the clapper.
Ding-ding!
Simultaneously the four bugles blared out, and the hundreds of menforward in the waist of the ship and on the forecastle formed up intotheir different divisions and stood easy. The divisions were rangedalong both sides of the ship--Forecastle, Foretop, Maintop, Quarter-deckmen on one side, Stokers, Day-men, and Marines on the other.
The "Rig of the Day" was "Number Ones," which was attended by certainobligations in the matter of polished boots, carefully brushed hair, andshaven faces. To any one unversed in the mysteries of the sailors'garb, the men appeared to be dressed merely in loose,comfortably-fitting blue clothes. But a hundred subtleties in thatapparently simple dress received the wearer's attention before hesubmitted himself to the lynx-eyed inspection of his DivisionalLieutenant that morning. The sit of the blue-jean collar, the spotlessflannel, the easy play of the jumper round the hips, the immaculatelines of the bell-bottomed trousers (harder to fit properly than anytail-coat or riding-breeches) all came in for a more critical overhaulthan did ever a young girl before her first ball. And the result, inall its pleasing simplicity, was the sailor's unconscious tribute tothat one day of the seven wherein his luckier brethren ashore do nomanner of work.
The Captain stepped out of his cabin, and the waiting group of officerssaluted. The Heads of Departments made their reports, and then, with anattendant retinue of Midshipmen, Aides-de-Camp, messengers, and buglers,followed the Captain down the hatchway for the Rounds.
Along the mess-decks, deserted save for an occasional sweeper or Ship'sCorporal standing at attention, swept the procession; halting at agalley or casemate as the Captain paused to ask a question or pass awhite-gloved hand along a beam in search of dust. Then aft again, pastGunroom and Wardroom--with a stoppage outside the former. The Captainelevated his nose.
"I think the beer-barrel must be leaking, sir," said the Sub-Lieutenant,"standing the rounds" in the doorway.
"See to it," was the reply, and the cortege swept on, with swordsclanking and lanterns throwing arcs of light into dark corners suspectedof harbouring a hastily concealed deck-cloth or of being the pet _cache_for somebody's coaling-suit.
Up in the sunlight of the outer world the band was softly playingselections from "The Pirates of Penzance." The ship's goat, havingdiscovered a white kid glove dropped by the Midshipman of the Maintop,retired with it to the shelter of the boat-hoist engine for a hurriedcannibalistic feast. The Officers of Divisions had concluded thepreliminary inspection, and were pacing thoughtfully to and fro in frontof their men. Suddenly the Captain's head appeared above the afterhatchway.
The Lieutenant of the Quarter-deck Division, in the midst of receiving awhispered account of an overnight dance from his Midshipman, wheeledabruptly and called his Division to attention. Then--
"Off hats!"
As if actuated by a single lever each man raised his left hand, whippedoff his hat and brought it to his side. The Captain acknowledged theLieutenant's salute and passed quickly down the ranks, his keen eyestravelling rapidly from each man's face to his boots. Once or twice hepaused to ask a question and then passed on to the next waitingDivision.
Presently the bugler sounded the "Disperse"; the Divisions turnedforward, stepped outward, and broke up. Here and there the Midshipmanof a Division remained standing, scribbling hurriedly in his note-booksuch criticisms as it had pleased his Captain to make. One man's hairhad wanted cutting; it was time another had passed for LeadingSeaman.... A third had elected to attend Divisions--on this the Sabbathof the Lord his God--without the knife attached to his lanyard.
* * * * *
Half an hour later the normal aspect of the Quarter-deck had changed.Rows of plank benches, resting on capstan bars supported by buckets,filled the available space on each side of the barbette. Chairs for theOfficers had been placed further aft, facing the men who were to occupythe benches. In front of the burnished muzzles of the two great 12-inchguns a lectern had been draped with a white flag, and between the guns a'cello, flute, and violin prepared to augment the strains of a ratherwheezy harmonium. Then the bell began to toll, and a flag crept to thepeak to inform the rest of the Fleet that the ship was about to commenceDivine Service.
The men hurried aft, seamen and marines pouring in a continuous streamthrough the open doors from the batteries. No sooner had the last mansqueezed hurriedly into his place with the slightly hang-dog air seamenassume in the full glare of the public eye, than the Master-at-Armsappeared at the battery door and reported every one aft to theCommander. The Captain took his chair, facing the Ship's Company, and alittle in advance of the remainder of the Officers; the Chaplain walkedup the hatchway, stepped briskly to the lectern and gave out a hymn.The orchestra played the opening bars, five hundred men swung themselvesto their feet, and the service began.
Presently the Captain crossed to the lectern and read the lesson for theday. It dealt with warfare and bloodshed, and there was a suddenlyawakened interest in the rows of intent faces opposite--for this was theconsummation each man present believed would ultimately come to someday's work, although it might not be amid the welter and crash ofshattered chariot and struggling horses, nor the twang of releasedbow-strings.... And the stern, level voice went on to tell of theestablishment of laws, wise and austere as those which regulated thereader's paths and those of his listeners; while under the stern-walk aflock of gulls screeched and quarrelled, and the water lapped with adrowsy, soothing sound against the side of the ship.
After a while the Chaplain gave out the number of another hymn. TheBluejacket's most enthusiastic admirer would hesitate to describe him asa devout man; but when the words and tune are familiar--it may bereminiscent of happier surroundings--the sailor-man will sing a hymnwith the fervour of inspiration. And if only for the sake of thehalf-effaced memories it recalled, the volume of bass harmony thatrolled across the sunlit harbour doubtless travelled as far as thethunder of organ and chant from many a cathedral choir.
Then, standing very upright, his fingers linked behind his back, theChaplain commenced his sermon. He spoke very simply, adorning hisperiods with no flowery
phrase or ornate quotation, suiting the mannerof his delivery to the least intelligent of his hearers. There was nofierce denunciation, no sudden gestures nor change in the grave, evenvoice. He touched on matters not commonly spoken of in pulpits, and hisspeech was wondrous plain, as indeed was meet for a congregation such ashis. And they were no clay under the potter's thumb. Composed for themost part of men indifferent to religion, almost fiercely resentful ofinterference with their affairs; living on crowded mess-decks afloat,fair game for every crimp and land-shark ashore. But there was that inthe sane, temperate discourse that passed beyond creed or dogma, and atatooed fist suddenly clenched on its owner's hat-brim, or the restlessshifting of a foot, told where a shaft passed home.
Here and there, screened by his fellows, a tired man's head noddeddrowsily. But the "Padre" had learned twenty years before that it tookmore than a sermon to keep awake a seated man who had perhaps kept themiddle watch, and turned out for the day at 6.15 A.M.; in the fivehundred odd pairs of eyes that remained fixed on his face he doubtlessread a measure of compensation.
* * * * *
The short-cropped heads bowed as in clear tones the Benediction waspronounced--
"... and remain with you ... always." An instant's pause, and then,Officers and men standing upright and rigid, they sang the NationalAnthem.
The Captain turned and nodded to the Commander, who was putting on hiscap.
"Pipe down."