SUAVITER IN MODO.
Profound stillness reigned in the wardroom of H.M.S. Sinister, broken only by the low tones of the Paymaster and the First Lieutenant disputing over the question of proportional representation and by the snores of the Junior Watchkeeper, stretched inelegantly on the sofa. The rest of the occupants were in the coma induced by all-night coaling. Into this haven of quiet burst the ship's Doctor in a state of exaggerated despair. He groaned and, sinking into a chair, mopped his forehead ostentatiously. The disputants ceased their discussion and watched him intently as though he were some performing animal.
"Gentlemen," said the Paymaster presently in tones of sepulchral gloom, "the neophyte of ÆSCULAPIUS, to whose care the inscrutable wisdom of Providence has entrusted our lives, is being excruciatingly funny. Number One says it is belated remorse for the gallant servants of His Majesty whom he has consigned to an untimely grave."
"Poor jesting fool," said his victim, "little he knows that even now Heaven has prepared a punishment fitted even to his crimes. I have seen it—nay, I have spoken with it."
"Suppose," intervened the Commander, "that you postpone this contest of wits and let us have your news."
"Certainly, Sir," acquiesced the Doctor. "It's Pay's new assistant. He's ..." the Doctor paused in search of adequate expression, "he's here. He is, I fancy, at this moment slapping the skipper on the back and asking him to have a drink. He called me 'old socks.'" The doctor shuddered. "Then he said he expected this was some mess; Naval messes were always hot stuff. He wanted to spin me yarns of his infant excesses, but I choked him off by telling him he ought to report to the skipper. You'll have to look after him, Pay. That will give you some honest work for a change."
It must be confessed that at lunch the newcomer justified the Doctor's worst forebodings. Afterwards the First Lieutenant and the Paymaster had an earnest colloquy. Then the latter sought his new assistant; he found him gloomily turning over the pages of a six-months-old illustrated paper.
"What do you think of the ship?" he asked cheerfully.
"Rotten slow lot," replied the A.P.; "I tried to make things hum a bit at lunch and they all sat looking like stuffed owls."
"Ah, you'll find it different this evening after the Commander has gone. Bad form to tell smoking-room yarns while he's here."
Meanwhile the First Lieutenant visited the Commander in his cabin.
"Very well," said the latter on parting; "only mind, no unnecessary violence."
"I understand, Sir. I hope it won't be necessary."
The Assistant Paymaster had no cause to complain of lack of hilarity at dinner. The most trivial remark was greeted with roars of merriment. When the KING'S health had been drunk the Commander pleaded letters and left the ward-room. Instantly a perfect babel arose. Everyone seemed to be asking everyone else to have a drink. The newcomer selected a large whisky.
"Wilkes," said the First Lieutenant, "one large whisky, one dozen soda, one dozen ginger-beer and two large bottles of lime-juice."
"Large bottles, you blighter!" he yelled after the back of the astonished marine who went out to fulfil this remarkable order.
"Now," said the Junior Watchkeeper, when all the glasses had been filled, "I call on Number One for a song." Amid vociferous applause the First Lieutenant, clasping a huge tumbler of ginger-beer, rose unsteadily. Without the semblance of a note anywhere he proceeded to bawl "A frog he would a-wooing go." A prima donna at the zenith of her fame might have envied his reception. The Junior Watchkeeper broke half the glasses in the transports of his enthusiasm. "Come along, Doc," said the singer as soon as he could make himself heard; "give us a yarn." With the assistance of his neighbours the Doctor placed one foot on his chair and the other on the table. "Say, you fellows," he said thickly, "jolly litl' yarn—Goblylocks an' Three Bears."
Overcome, apparently, by tender recollections he was silent, and fixed the walnuts with a dreamy stare.
"Go on, Doc!" "Goldilocks, Goldilocks." "The Doc," said the Paymaster, "was always a devil for the girls."
"Pay," remonstrated the First Lieutenant sorrowfully, "that's the third half-penny for swearing this year. You mean that the Doctor has always evinced a marked partiality for the society of the gentler sex."
Punctuated at the more exciting points with breathless exclamations of horror and amazement from his audience, the Doctor's rendering of the story proved an overwhelming success. As he painted in vivid periods the scene where Goldilocks was discovered by all three bears asleep in the little bear's bed, the First Lieutenant broke down completely and had to be patted and soothed into a more tranquil frame of mind before the story could proceed. Then there was a spell of musical chairs, the First Engineer obliging at the piano, and afterwards giving a tuneful West-Country folk-song at the Doctor's request. The Junior Watchkeeper, declaring his inability to remember anything, read half a column from the "Situations Vacant" portion of The Times, and amid the ensuing applause slipped quietly from the room in obedience to an unspoken signal from the First Lieutenant. After the Second Engineer had given an exhibition of what he asserted to be an Eskimo tribal dance, the First Lieutenant addressed the Assistant Paymaster.
"Now then, young fellow, it is your turn. D'you want to give us a yarn?"
But the boy had learned his lesson. "I'm afraid I don't know any yarns that would interest you, Sir," he said. "If you don't mind I think I'll turn in."
The First Lieutenant smiled on him with the mature wisdom of twenty-seven summers. "Quite right, my lad. By the way, you might look in at the bath-room on the way to your cabin and tell the Junior Watchkeeper that we shan't want the bath that he is filling from the cold tap. I'm very glad we shan't."
"Now is the opportunity for carrying out the recommendation of a Select Committee in 1908 that there should be a common gallery for men and women."—The Vote.
A sort of Mixed Grille, in fact.
"Wanted, Upper Housemaid of two; wages £30; 5 maids; two ladies in family; quiet country place."—Daily Paper.
Who said our upper classes are not feeling the War?
"Required, very small nicely Furnished House or Cottage. Bathroom and good private girls' school within easy walk essential."—Daily Paper.
There is nothing so invigorating as a little walk before one's bath.
SEMPER EADEM.
A prisoner, Gunner Grogan, E.,
To-day will be brought up to me
For impudence and sloth;
Reveillé only made him sneer;
Aroused, he lipped a Bombardier
(And very natural—both).
And I shall counter, with disdain,
His feeble efforts to explain
Or justify such deeds.
It will be funny if I fail
To twist young Gunner Grogan's tail,
That being what he needs.
I know he isn't really bad;
Myself, I rather like the lad.
(And loathe that Bombardier!)
Beneath his buttons—none too bright—
May lurk the spirit of a knight—
A thwarted cavalier.
For some who fought at Creçy, too,
Snored on or scoffed when trumpets blew,
And presently were caught;
And when the clanking N.C.O.'s
Came round to prod them, I suppose
They up and spoke their thought.
Then they were for it; up they went
Paraded by the Prince's tent,
While he, to meet the crime,
Recalled the nastiest words he knew,
And learned the worst that he could do
From "K.R." of the time.
And yet such criminals as those
Did England proud with English bows
As schoolboys have to read;
And Gunner Grogan would to-day
Prove every bit as stout as they
Should there arise the need.
But just as heroes of Romance,
Who dodged parades with half a chance,
Were strafed—and mighty hard—
So likewise Gunner Grogan, E.,
Employed in making history,
Will do an extra guard.
"We are informed by the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor of Bristol that his Lordship still has a supply of famous men connected with the great war, and will be pleased to supply them to applicants."—Evening Times and Echo (Bristol).
Will the PRIME MINISTER please note?
"A conference of the Ministers of departments concerned will take place in London to arrange measures for their execution."—Daily Chronicle.
Anticipated comment from The Mourning Toast: "And quite time, too."
"Lord Lawrence, once Viceroy of India, said, 'Notwithstanding all that English people have done to benefit India, the missionaries have done more than all other agonies combined.'"—Malay Tribune.
Missionaries in the East have a lot to put up with.