CHAPTER XXIV
THE COCKED HAT
To say that Lieutenant Douglas Drake was flabbergasted would not do justice to the state of his mind. In the very hour of his triumph, when the credit of recapturing the stolen cruiser seemed absolutely assured, the fruits of victory were snatched from his grasp by a midshipman. It was humiliating, but Drake was a true sportsman, and, stifling his feelings of disappointment, was genuinely hearty in his congratulations to his junior.
"Where's Fielding?" he asked, as soon as Cardyke had briefly explained the situation.
"Down below. He's had a nasty time of it, sir; but he's doing wonderfully well."
"I'll go and see him. By the bye, we knocked over a couple of fellows just now. Who were they?"
"A couple of watchmen from the tug Hekla," replied the mid. "It's rough luck on them. I stationed them to keep an eye on the prisoners. They can't speak English, so they're wondering what has happened?"
"I'll see that they are released," replied Drake. "Now I'll go below and pay Fielding a visit. I mustn't stop long, or the Cerberus will be getting anxious. We'll report you by wireless, and stand by till daybreak, if you wish."
"Aren't you taking command, sir?" asked Cardyke.
"Taking command? Why, no, my boy; you've done excellently up to the present. This is your business, and you rightly deserve the credit. I envy you, Cardyke; 'pon my word I do."
"Better take command, sir," replied the midshipman, wearily. "I've only had three hours' sleep the last forty-eight hours, and there's only enough fuel to last a day and a half. If it weren't for you turning up we'd soon have been in an awkward fix."
"All right, then, Mr. Cardyke," assented Drake. "I'll relieve you at your request. Mr. Domer," he continued, addressing the senior, "will you please take sufficient hands to man the boats, and return to the Cerberus? I am keeping the rest of the men on board the Impregnable. I will hand you a written report for Captain Dexter before we part company."
* * * * *
When Cardyke turned out after a solid sixteen hours' sleep he found that the Impregnable, once more under the White Ensign, was in tow of the Cerberus, en route for Halifax. The trials and tribulations of Juan Cervillo's hostages were over. Already the momentous news of the fate of the notorious pirate and the recapture of the terror of the Atlantic had been flashed abroad, and once again peaceful merchantmen might pursue their way without an ever-present fear of capture by a daring and unscrupulous modern buccaneer.
* * * * *
Two months later the long-postponed dinner given by the Fifth Division to their successful rivals of the Sixth took place at a popular Portsmouth hotel.
Lieutenant Player was amongst the first to arrive.
"Well, you fellows," he exclaimed, as he laid a cocked-hat case on a chair. "Drake's not turned up yet?"
"No," replied Cosham, of the Kestrel. "Going on with the business, Player? It's rubbing it in a bit thick, isn't it?"
"I don't know about that," replied Player. "This has nothing to do with Drake's disappointment. If it had I for one would not take a rise out of him."
"He's taking it very well," remarked Cosham. "Blessed if I can quite understand it—and a fellow with influence behind him, too."
"He deserves promotion in any case, influence or no influence,"' added Peel. "Fielding's promoted—lucky beggar—and has been specially commended for gallantry. Young Cardyke is made sub., and Drake gets nothing. I really don't think we ought to——"
"Good evening!" exclaimed Thompson, putting his head inside the door. "Heard the news? Of course you haven't."
"Fire away!" replied the group of officers.
"Drake's away on leave. Coming in by motor for this little function. He told me to open any wires, and forward any letters that might be sent to him. Acting under instructions I opened a telegram, and what do you think it was?"
"Can't say," replied Player. "Has he scratched for to-night?"
"No. A wire from young Tregarthen—he's at the Admiralty, you know. The secretary told him that Drake is appointed commander, and receives the D.S.O."
"Good luck to him!"
"Now you can carry on with your little joke, Player," said Thompson.
"I will. But, I say, Drake will see his promotion in the evening paper. Can't we prevent him, and spring it as a surprise?"
"You'll have to look pretty sharp. Let the others know, and give them the tip. Here's Fielding."
Lieutenant Fielding, who had practically recovered from his wound, came up at this moment, followed by his shipmate, Sub-Lieutenant Cardyke. Both were cordially greeted, for this was the first opportunity the majority of the officers present had to welcome their comrades on their return to England.
"I am glad to hear the news about Drake—I thought he was being treated a bit shabbily. If it hadn't been for him we shouldn't have had a leg-up," said Fielding, when Thompson informed him of his chief's promotion.
"Stand by, here's Drake," exclaimed someone.
Drake was low-spirited. The iron of disappointment had eaten into his soul. But with praiseworthy self-restraint he concealed his feelings. It seemed hard that with the opportunities offered him he should have failed to make his mark, and doubly hard that his subordinates should be signalled out for promotion, while he, as far as he knew, was slightingly passed over. Nevertheless he offered his sincere congratulations to Fielding and Cardyke. He was not a man to repine when others deserved and received advancement.
At length the company sat down. Amongst the guests were General Oki, and Hokosuka, and Mukyima, who had purposely journeyed down from London for the festive occasion; and the Japanese, who had played such a prominent part in the unlawful commission of the Impregnable, came in for no small share of attention.
After the customary toasts had been duly honoured, the head waiter appeared bearing a covered silver dish. A tense silence fell upon the jovial company. Those who knew what was about to happen seemed to exercise a magnetic influence over those who did not.
Then the string band burst forth into the strains of an old popular refrain, "Where did you get that hat?"
Simultaneously the waiter whisked off the cover, and on the dish reposed a naval officer's cocked hat.
A roar of hearty laughter greeted its appearance. Thompson, Fielding, Cardyke, and one or two others looked grave, wondering how Drake would take it; but to their relief the victim of the practical joke, flushing slightly under his bronzed skin, rose to his feet, and, with a reassuring smile, raised his hand to command silence.
"Gentlemen," he began, "I will not attempt a speech. If I did I should say what I didn't mean to say, and leave unsaid what I meant to say. But I see you have not forgotten to remind me of that little failing of mine on the occasion of the match which this gathering is celebrating in its customary manner. It will not be said that a Drake is not a man of his word. I promised to eat my hat; I will do so. Will you kindly pass the article round to show that there is no deception?"
The practical jokers began to look unduly anxious. They never expected Drake would have taken the matter so calmly. Perhaps he had been warned, and had prepared a counter-plot? He had. Producing a small parcel, Drake cut the string, and unwrapped the paper. Within was a small replica of a lieutenant's cocked hat, faithfully executed in confectionery. Inside were written the words, "My hat!"
Having passed the edible model round for inspection, Drake, amid the applause of his comrades, gravely proceeded to eat it.
As soon as Drake had completed his meal, Thompson stood up.
"Gentlemen!" he exclaimed. "I think it only right that we should signify our satisfaction at the way in which a Drake keeps his word, by giving him a little certificate of his—er—his conduct. Allow me, sir, to present you with this."
And leaning over the table Thompson handed the newly appointed commander the momentous telegram.
Drake took it, hesitatingly, as if suspecting another joke at his expense, looked at it casually, then again intently.
He tried to speak, but no words came from his agitated lips. He sat down.
"Gentlemen!" shouted Thompson, in stentorian zones. "A toast: Commander Douglas Drake, D.S.O., and the heroes of 'The Stolen Cruiser.'"
THE END
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