"To Commanding Officer. Admiral requests the pleasure of your company to dinner to-night at eight o'clock."
"Aye, aye, sir." He turned away from the voice-pipe. "An' 'e could 'ave my tot on top o' that for the askin'."
XV.
THE "LOOK-SEE."
SOUTHEND, AUGUST 1909.
A bunting-draped paddle-steamer, listed over with a dense crowd of trippers, thrashed her leisurely way down the lines. On the quarterdeck of one of the Battleships the Midshipman of the Afternoon Watch rubbed the lense of his telescope with his jacket cuff, adjusted the focus against a stanchion, and prepared to make the most of this heaven-sent diversion. Over the water came a hoarse roar of cheering, and, as she drew near, handkerchiefs and flags fluttered along the steamer's rail. The Lieutenant of the Watch, in frock-coat and sword-belt, paused beside the Midshipman and raised his glass, a dry smile creasing the corners of his eyes.
"What's up with them all, sir?" murmured the boy delightedly. "My Aunt! What a Banzai!"
"Ever seen kids cheer a passing train? Same sort of thing."
"But look at the girl in white; she's half off her chump—look at her waving her arms.... Friend of yours, sir?"
"No—only hysterical. The man with her is trying to make her stop." The sailor laughed. "He's given it up ... now he's waving too—what at?" He closed his glass. "Curious, isn't it?"