by Bartimeus
*XX.*
*THE NIGHT-WATCHES.*
"Out pipes! Clear up the upper deck!" The Boatswain Mate moved forwardalong the lee side of the battery repeating the hoarse call. Slowly theknots of tired men broke up, knocking the ashes out of their pipes, orpinching their cigarette-ends with horny fingers before economicallytucking the remnants into their caps. A part of the Watch came aft,sweeping down the deck, coiling down ropes for the night. Then, as thebell struck, the shrill wail of the pipe rose again above the sound ofthe wind and waves. It grew louder and shriller, and died away: then,rising again, changed to another key and ended abruptly. It was thesailor's Curfew--"Pipe down."
On the crowded mess-decks, where scrubbed canvas hammocks swung with theroll of the ship above the mess-tables, the ship's company was turningin. A struggle with a tight-fitting jumper, which, rolled up in companywith a pair of trousers, was tucked under the tiny horse-hair pillow; apat to the mysterious pockets lining the "cholera-belt," to reassure aman that his last month's pay was still intact, and then, with asteadying hand on the steel beam overhead, one after another they swungthemselves into their hammocks and fell a-snoring.
Aft in the Gunroom an extra half-hour's lights had been granted inhonour of somebody's birthday, and the inmates of the Mess were stillgathered round the piano. It was a war-scarred instrument: but itserved its purpose, albeit the hero of the evening--in celebration ofhis advance into the sere and yellow leaf--had emptied a whisky-and-sodainto its long-suffering interior. The musician, his features ornamentedby a burnt-cork moustache, thumped valiantly at the keys.
"And then there came the Boatswain's Wife,"
roared the young voices. It was an old, old song, familiar to men whowere no longer even memories with the singers and their generation. Butits unnumbered verses and quaint, old-world jingle had survivedunchanged the passing of "Masts and Yards," and were even then beinghanded on into the era of the hydroplane and submarine.
"Ten o'clock, gentlemen!" said the voice of the Ship's Corporal at thedoor. The Sub. eyed him sternly. "You may get yourself a glass ofbeer, Corporal," and thereby won a five-minutes' respite. Then----
"Out lights, please, gentlemen," again broke in upon the revels.
"Corporal, will you----"
The man shook his head with a grim smile. "Come along, please,gentlemen, or you'll get me 'ung."
Reluctantly the singers withdrew, drifting by twos and threes to thesteerage flat where their hammocks swung. The Ship's Corporal switchedoff the lights and locked the gun-room door. "I likes to see 'ighsperits meself," he admitted to the yawning Steward who accompanied himout of the Mess. The Gunroom Steward's reply was to the effect that youcould have too much even of a good thing, and he retired gloomily to thepantry, where, in company with a vast ham and the gunroom crockery, hespent most of his waking hours.
In the nearly deserted Wardroom a rubber of bridge was still inlingering progress; a sea raced frothing past the thick glass of ascuttle, and one of the players raised his eyes from his hand. "Blowingup for a dirty night," he observed. A Lieutenant deep in an arm-chairby the fire lifted his head. "It's sure to--my middle watch." Heclosed the book he was reading and stood up, stretching himself. Thenwith a glance at the clock he moved towards the door. As he opened itthe Senior Engineer came into the Mess. His face was drawn withtiredness, and there were traces of dust round his eyes. He pulled off apair of engine-room gloves, and, ordering a drink, thoughtfully rolled acigarette. At the sound of his voice the Engineer Commander looked upfrom the game and raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question to hissubordinate. The Senior Engineer nodded. "Yes, sir, she's all rightnow; I don't think she'll give any more trouble to-night." He finishedhis drink and sought his cabin. He had had three hours' sleep in thelast forty-eight hours, and hoped, as he undressed, that the infernalscrap-heap would hold together till he'd had a bit more.
The night wore on, and one by one the inmates of the Wardroom drifted totheir respective cabins. Outside the Captain's cabin the sentrybeguiled the tedium of the vigil by polishing the buckle of his belt.Every now and again he glanced at the clock.
At last the hands pointed to a quarter to twelve. In fifteen minuteshis watch would be over. He buckled on his belt and resumed hisnoiseless beat. Occasionally from some cabin or hammock the snore of atired sleeper reached his ears. The rifles, stowed upright round theaft-deck, moved in their racks to the measured roll of the ship, with along-drawn, monotonous rattle, like a boy's stick drawn lightly acrossarea railings.
A tread sounded overhead, and a figure carrying a lantern came lightlydown the hatchway. It was the Midshipman of the First Watch, callingthe reliefs. He descended to the steerage flat, and bending down underthe hammocks of his sleeping brethren, knocked at the door of one of thecabins. There was a lull in the stertorous breathing, in the warm, diminterior.
"Ten minutes to twelve, sir!" The inmate grunted and switched on hislight. "All right," he growled.
The boy moved off till he came to a hammock slung by the armoured door.He ranged up beside it and blew lightly into the face of the sleeper.
"Jimmy! Ten to twelve!"
The occupant of the hammock opened one eye.
"'Ll right," he murmured sleepily, and closed it again.
The Midshipman of the First Watch eyed him suspiciously.
"No you don't!" He shook the hammock. "Wake up, you fat-headedblighter, or I'll slip you." Then, changing his tone to a wheedlingone: "Come on, Jimmy, it's a lovely night--much more healthy on thebridge than fugging in your beastly hammock."
His relief said something under his breath, and emerged shivering fromthe blankets, blinking in the light of the lantern. Once his feet werefairly on the deck, the other turned and scampered up the ladder again.
The bell struck eight times as the Lieutenant and Midshipman of theMiddle Watch climbed the ladder to the fore bridge. The Fleet wassteaming in two divisions, with a flotilla of destroyers stationed onthe beam. Beyond them the silhouette of an island was just visible inthe pale moonlight.
At the last stroke of the bell the pipe of the Boatswain's Mate shrilledout, calling the Middle Watch. "A-a-all the starboard watch! Seaboats,crews, and reliefs fall in!" Fore and aft the ship the mantle ofresponsibility changed wearers. Sentries, seamen, stokers, signalmen,their tale of bricks complete for a few hours, turned over to theirreliefs and hurried to their hammocks.
On the bridge the two Lieutenants walked up and down for a few minutes,while the newcomer received details of the course and speed of the Fleetand the Captain's orders for the night. Then the Officer of the Watchthat was ended unslung his binoculars and turned towards the ladder.
"I think that's all.... She's keeping station very well now, but theyhad a bit of trouble in the Engine-room earlier in the Watch. Captainwants to be called at daybreak. Good-night."
"Good-night."
The Midshipman of the Watch was already in position on the upper bridge,settling down to his four hours' vigil with a sextant on the lights ofthe next ship ahead. From the battery below came the voice of theCorporal of the Watch mustering the hands. Overhead the wind thrummedin the shrouds and halliards: the steady throb of the engines beat outan accompaniment--a deep _pizzicato_ accompaniment as if from somemighty bass-viol floating up through the open casings--and, somehowdominating all other sounds, the ceaseless swish and murmur of the wavesbreaking along the ship's side.
The Officer of the Watch crossed over to the Midshipman's side. "Are wein station all right?"
The boy lowered the sextant: "Yes, sir, quite steady."
"Right: give me the sextant and go and brew some cocoa in thechart-house. There's a spirit-lamp there."
The Midshipman vanished and reappeared a few minutes later with two cupsof steaming beverage. They drank together, gulping it hastily to warmthemselves.
"A-ah!" sighed the Lieutenant gratefully. "That's bett
er. Now put thecups back, and come and show me Arcturus--if you have shaken off yourfat head!"
* * * * *
A couple of hours passed. The Midshipman of the Watch, accompanied bythe Corporal with a lantern, had gone his rounds of the mess-decks andcell-flat. The seaboat's crew had gone through an undress rehearsal of"Man overboard!" and were huddled yarning in the lee of the forecastlescreen. Twice the ship had crept a shade out of her appointed stationin the line, and, when the telegraph had rung the trouble to theEngine-room below, stolen back to her appointed bearing. Once the Fleetaltered course majestically to avoid a fishing-fleet as it lay spreadover the waters, a confusion of flares and bobbing lights.
The bridge was in darkness, save for the faint glow of the binnacle thatthrew into relief the rugged features of the Quartermaster at the wheel.The face might have been that of a bronze statue, but for a slightmovement of the jaws as he thoughtfully chewed his quid. Suddenly alight at the masthead of the Flagship began to blink hurriedly. Asignalman stepped out of the lee of the chart-house and rattled the keyof the masthead flashing lamp. On all sides the other ships beganblinking in answer to the Admiral's call. Presently the Yeoman spoke: arocket soared up into the night ahead of them. The Lieutenant put hismouth to the voice-pipe and gave a clear spoken order, which thetelegraph-man repeated: somewhere overhead a bell rang in answer fromthe engine-room.
The Fleet had increased speed.
The breeze freshened, and the men on the bridge ducked their heads asfrom time to time a shower of spray drifted over the weather-screens.The Midshipman of the Watch lowered his sextant and sniffed longingly,his nose in the air; the off-shore wind had brought with it a hint ofheather and moist earth. Then, with a little sigh, he steadied hissextant again on the lights of the next ahead.
* * * * *
The sky was turning pale in the East, and the chilly dawn crept over agrey sea. The faces of the men on the bridge slowly becamedistinguishable. They were the faces of the Morning Watch, wan in thegrowing light.
The Lieutenant rubbed the stubble on his chin and turned his glasses ona school of porpoises chasing each other through the waves. The skyastern changed gradually from grey to lilac. Low down on the horizon alittle belt of cloud became slowly tinged with pink. Out of a hen-coopon the booms the shrill crow of a newly-awakened cockerel greetedanother day. Then from the mess-deck, drifting up hatchway andventilating cowl, came the hoarse bellow--
"'Eave out, 'eave out, 'eave out! Show a leg there, show a leg! 'Sun'sa-scorching your eyes out!..."
The look-out in the foretop watched the antics of a small land-birdbalancing itself on the forestay.
"Poor little bloke," he muttered, blowing on his benumbed fingers,"'spect's you wants yer breakfus'--same's me!"