III.
The marine postman, who should have been off at eight o'clock, was delayed, and did not come on board with the mails and Sunday papers for the ship's company until nearly noon. But when he did finally turn up he was nearly carried off his feet by the rush of men.
''Ere, posty!' shouted some one, 'got my Dispatch?'
'Wot abart my Lloyd's and People?' roared another man, elbowing his way through the throng.
'Ain't ye got my Reynolds's?' from somebody else.
'Oh, go to 'ell!' retorted the exasperated marine, vainly endeavouring to make his way forward through the crowd with a large leather satchel slung over his shoulder and three bulbous mail-bags on his back. 'Oh, go to 'ell, the 'ole boilin' lot o' you! Orl in good time! 'Aven't none o' you blokes got no patience?' He was annoyed, poor man, and had every right to be, for he had gone breakfastless, and the mail, arriving late, had delayed him many hours.
'Well, tell us th' noos!' some one bellowed above the uproar.
'Noos!' he replied. 'Germany's declared war on Russia, an' all the naval reserves an' pensioners is called out! Wot more d'you want?'
It was quite sufficient; enough, indeed, to reduce a good many of them to a state of excited incoherence. It seemed practically impossible that Great Britain could keep out of the conflict; and, though throughout the ship the general feeling was one of warlike joy, it was tempered here and there by a touch of subdued solemnity. The mail despatched the same evening constituted a 'bloomin' record,' as the long-suffering postman put it, for every officer and man on board had spent the afternoon in writing letters.
'I know'd my feelin's 'u'd come true,' remarked M'Sweeny in his mess during supper. 'I know'd this 'ere wus comin' orl along. I know'd yer wus wrong, Josh.' He wagged his head wisely, and looked at Billings, who was sitting opposite.
'Don't start chawin' yer fat, Tubby,' Joshua retorted. 'Things is quite bad enuf without yer makin' of 'em worse.' He was feeling rather peevish and irritable. He was thinking of his wife, and wondered vaguely when he was likely to see her again.
''Owever,' he added, putting down his fork with a throaty sigh, 'I don't much care wot 'appens now so long as we 'as a decent smack at them blighters. I owes 'em one fur gittin' me bloomin' leaf stopped, an', by gum, they'll git it w'en I runs acrost 'em!' He glared savagely at the man opposite as if he, too, was a potential enemy.
''Ear, 'ear!' shouted another man, banging heavily on the table. 'Them's my feelin's.'
'There, there, me boy-o!' snapped M'Sweeny. 'W'en ye've finished upsettin' me tea, Mister Jones, I'll git along wi' me supper, thankin' yer orl the same. Them bloomin' Germans can wait. Supper carn't.'
''Ark at 'im,' jeered 'Mister Jones.' 'Just 'ark at him! Allus worryin' abart 'is vittles!'
'An' why shouldn't 'e?' suddenly demanded Billings, veering round and taking M'Sweeny's part. 'Better ter be a well-covered bloke like 'im than a lop-eared, spindle-shanked son of a perishin' light'ouse like you. It makes me feel 'ungry ter look at yer.'
Both M'Sweeny and Jones promptly became covered in confusion; for, whereas the former's adiposity was his sore point, Jones was as touchy on the subject of his excessive leanness.
That same night, or, rather, early the next morning, they had their first alarm. The immaculate Aubrey Plantagenet FitzJohnson happened to be the officer of the middle watch—midnight till four A.M.—and at two-thirty, having absorbed two large cups of hot cocoa and half-a-dozen tongue sandwiches, he was sauntering up and down the silent quarterdeck, pipe in mouth, and longing for his bunk. It was chilly for the time of year. There was no moon, and though here and there stars peeped out between rifts in the clouds moving down from windward on the gentle breeze, the sky generally was overcast and the night was dark.
Quite suddenly the silence was broken by the sound of footsteps running along the boat-deck. Next came the clattering of a ladder and a muffled exclamation as some one fell down the last few steps and landed painfully on the deck, and then the footsteps advanced on to the quarterdeck. Whoever it was was evidently in great haste. FitzJohnson turned round.
'I wants th' orficer o' th' watch,' he heard an agitated voice telling the quartermaster. 'Where is 'e?'
'Here I am. What's the matter? Who's that?'
'It's me, sir—Grimes, ord'nary signalman,' the man panted breathlessly. 'Please, sir, th' yeoman o' th' watch on th' bridge told me to tell you there's a Zeppeling comin' over th' 'ill!'
'A Zeppelin coming over the hill!' the officer echoed, in astonishment, half-suspecting that some one was pulling his leg. 'What the devil d'you mean, my man?'
'It's gawspul truth, sir. 'E's burnin' lights, an' me an' th' yeoman saw 'im quite plain.'
Grimes was obviously in earnest, and the lieutenant did not wait to hear any more. He crammed his cap firmly on his head, darted from the quarterdeck, ran up the ladder leading to the after shelter-deck, sped along the boat-deck, barking both shins badly as he went, and finally clambered up the ladder leading to the fore-bridge, breathless and limp with excitement. 'Where is it?' he gasped.
'Over there on the port bow, sir!' answered an equally agitated yeoman of signals, busy with a pair of binoculars. 'D'ye see where that 'ump sticks up on top o' the 'ill, sir?'
'Yes!'
'There's a bit o' dark cloud on top of it, and just to the left, sir. 'E's be'ind that now. We'll see 'im agen in a minute w'en the cloud passes.'
They both gazed at it anxiously, and presently the mass of vapour thinned and drifted away on the light breeze.
'There, sir!' exclaimed the yeoman, triumphantly waving an arm. 'See 'im now, sir? 'E seems to 'ave altered course to port a bit since I see'd 'im first; but 'e's there all right. See 'is lights, sir!'
The man was quite right; for, looking in the direction indicated, the lieutenant distinctly saw in the sky a bright white light, with, just below and to the left of it, a green light They both seemed to be moving rapidly in a north-easterly direction, and looked for all the world like the steaming and starboard bow lights of a ship suspended in mid-air. He snatched the glasses from the yeoman's hand and looked intently through them. Yes, the white and green lights were quite distinct. They seemed to twinkle as he watched them, and behind them there appeared to be a dark phantom shape rushing through the sky. A Zeppelin, without a shadow of doubt.
Dashing down the glasses with an exclamation, he fled from the bridge as if Satan himself was after him, and running aft, hastily told the marine corporal of the watch to turn out twenty marines with their rifles and ball ammunition, and then to inform Captain Hannibal Chance, R.M.L.I., that a Zeppelin was in sight.
Aubrey P. FitzJohnson was no fool. Not he. He knew that hostilities had not started, but he had read enough history to be aware that hostile acts had frequently been committed before actual declaration of war. Moreover, he was officer of the watch, and as such was responsible for the safety of the ship, and it would never do if he were to be caught napping by a bomb-dropping dirigible. Therefore he must take precautions. There were no anti-aircraft guns mounted in the Belligerent, so the next best thing which occurred to him was twenty marines with their rifles. He might just as well have paraded five thousand schoolboys armed with catapults or pea-shooters, for all the good they could do.
A few seconds later he was knocking frantically on the door of the commander's upper-deck sleeping-cabin.
'Who's making that infernal din?' growled the sleepy occupant, waking up with a start. 'What the devil d'you want?' The commander, poor man, had had a long and busy day, and was inclined to be irritable.
'It's me, sir—FitzJohnson,' the lieutenant exclaimed, putting his head inside the curtain. 'There's a Zeppelin in sight!'
'A what!' ejaculated Commander Travers, sitting up in his bunk and switching on the electric light.
'A Zeppelin, sir. I saw her quite distinctly. She's on our port bow, steering to the north-east'ard, and travelling pretty fast. You can see her from the fore-bridge. I've turned out twenty marines with their rifles!'
The commander glared at him for an instant, and seeing he was in earnest, hopped out of his bunk, crammed his feet into a pair of rubber sea-boots, flung on a purple dressing-gown, and dashed out of his cabin. 'You'd better go and call the captain,' he cried back over his shoulder.
Captain Spencer, who had been sleeping soundly, was at first inclined to be sceptical and annoyed; but, convinced from FitzJohnson's manner that an airship really was in sight, he too left his bunk, and, arrayed in a suit of green-striped pyjamas and a uniform cap, joined the commander on the fore-bridge.
The marines meanwhile, in various stages of deshabille, were mustering on the quarterdeck under the orders of their imperturbable sergeant-major.
'Have you served out ball ammunition?' FitzJohnson demanded.
'Yessir; five rounds a man.'
'Well, double your men on to the forecastle, load your rifles, and stand by to open fire as soon as you get orders.'
'Party! 'shon! Trail arrms! Left turn! Double marrch!'
At that moment Captain Chance appeared up one of the quarterdeck ladders. He was wearing a uniform tunic, pink pyjama trousers, dancing-pumps, and a monocle. 'What the dooce is happenin'?' he wanted to know. 'That damfool of a corporal came down to my cabin; but the silly ass was so bally excited, I couldn't make head or tail of what he was talkin' about. For the Lord's sake, old man, what the devil is the matter?'
'There's a Zeppelin in sight,' FitzJohnson told him. 'I've just sent the marines on to the forecastle.'
'Great Cæsar's aunt!' gasped the marine officer, running forward after his men.
The quartermaster, boatswain's mate, corporal of the watch, and Ordinary Signalman Grimes, meanwhile, had spread the news far and wide. Officers in scanty raiment, armed with binoculars, came up the after-hatches and congregated on the quarterdeck; and most of the ship's company, determined not to miss the fun, seemed to have left their hammocks and repaired to the upper deck. It was literally crowded with excited men, who were all talking at the top of their voices.
'There 'e is!' FitzJohnson heard a shrill voice saying as he retraced his footsteps to the bridge. 'See 'im?'
'Where?'
'There!'
'No, that ain't 'im. That's one o' them lights ashore.'
'No, it ain't; not wot I'm lookin' at!'
'I tells yer it is!'
'It ain't, I sez. Ye're lookin' at th' wrong one!'
FitzJohnson eventually arrived on the bridge, to find the captain, the commander, and the first lieutenant already there. The last-named seemed to be rather amused.
'You can fall your men out, Captain Chance,' Captain Spencer called out to the forecastle. 'I'm afraid there's nothing for you to shoot at to-night.'
'I beg your pardon, sir,' said FitzJohnson, coming forward. 'Did you see the Zeppelin? There, sir,' he added, waving an arm; 'you can still see her green and white lights; and when I looked through the glasses just now I distinctly saw her shape.' He was rather afraid that the marines were being sent away prematurely.
Chase, the first lieutenant, unable to bottle himself up any longer, burst out into a hoarse chuckle.
The captain turned round. 'Is that you, Mr FitzJohnson?' he snapped.
'Yes, sir. I'——
'Are you trying to make damfools of the commander and myself?' demanded Captain Spencer. He seemed very much put out about something.
'I beg your pardon, sir,' stuttered the lieutenant. 'I don't quite understand what you mean.'
The commander suddenly flung back his head, and went off into a roar of laughter. 'Oh,' he gasped, 'this is the limit!'
FitzJohnson stared. Had they all taken leave of their senses?
'Did you really see a Zeppelin,' the skipper asked sarcastically, 'or did you merely get me up here in these garments so that I should catch my death of cold?'
'Yes, sir, I really did see it,' the lieutenant faltered, beginning to realise that he had made some horrible mistake.
'What! showing its white and green lights?'
'Yes, sir.'
The captain glowered. 'I believe you're a zealous officer, Mr FitzJohnson,' he said grimly; 'otherwise I should believe that you were treating me with unseemly levity.'
'I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean, sir.'
'You don't understand—eh? Well, next time you report a Zeppelin, kindly make quite certain that it is a Zeppelin. This time you've dragged us all out of our beds to look at a couple of rather bright stars.'
'Stars, sir! But I saw the shape behind the lights!'
The captain shook his head. 'Merely a cloud,' he explained. 'If you look at your so-called lights now, you'll see they haven't moved a fraction of an inch since you first saw them. The nearer clouds travelling across them gave you the impression that they were moving. One of 'em does look rather like a green light, I'll admit, but that's merely the dampness in the air.'
'I'm awfully sorry, sir,' FitzJohnson stammered, covered with confusion. 'I had no idea'——
'Of course you hadn't,' Captain Spencer interrupted. 'Nobody realises he's made a fool of himself until afterwards. However,' he added with a chuckle of amusement, 'I'm not really angry; but nobody, except perhaps the Astronomer-Royal, likes being dragged out of bed to look at celestial bodies. Good-night.'
'Good-night, sir,' said the culprit sheepishly.
The captain and the commander left the bridge together. They both seemed amused.
Chase came across to FitzJohnson. 'Dook, old man,' he laughed, digging him in the ribs, 'you've made a bally ass of yourself. The least you can do, after digging me out of my cabin at this unearthly hour, is to give me a cup of your cocoa. Grr, it's beastly cold!'
'Of course I will, No. 1. Come along.'
They left the bridge chuckling.
'Well,' remarked the yeoman of signals when they disappeared, 'I could 'a swore I'd seen 'im!'
Perhaps he could; but he, the cause of all the trouble in the first instance, had taken very good care to maintain a discreet position in the background during the captain's presence.