“Can’t you sleep, Number One?”
“No. Ee. Yes, I mean. You push off. Mm?”
One night, after such preliminaries, the First Lieutenant being left on watch, he rapped out at John:
“Ever seen a sea-monster?... Ought to see a sea-monster.... No, boy, don’t look mazed. This isn’t a Peter-Piper-Picked-a-Peck exercise. Common sense. Ought to see a sea-monster. Good for snotties. Mm?”
After a pause. “Seamen’s fairies. Believe in fairies. Believe in fairies, believe in God. Look for sea-monster and you have your eye on the Devil. Catch sea-monster; catch Devil by tail.”
Other midshipmen had been known to laugh, as they thought, politely; but John knew the First Lieutenant too well. Left alone he would presently become comprehensible and interesting. Interruption would drive him into silence.
Soon he began a rambling disquisition upon the probable anatomy, functions, and habits of sea-monsters. His talk was full of the technicalities of doctors and zoologists. The longer a word the more rapid his pronunciation of it.... From sea-monsters to prehistoric beasts, and thence to were-wolves and vampires was an easy progress. Of the supernatural he spoke with none of the nervous suggestion of one who visits séances. He did not persuade or argue, and his tales, frankly imaginary, seemed to be told to himself rather than to John. They were wonderful tales.
“D’you read Algernon Blackwood?... Ee.... More fun to spin the yarns yourself. Mm? Now, if ever you get writing, don’t lose a sense of Eternity. That’s what the modern people lack. Brilliant enough: dozens of women—acid mostly; brilliant like chandeliers, though—not stars. So taken up with their own few years they forget the rest. Scramble for the nuts; forget the tree; forget the forest; forget the hawk overhead. That’s why Hardy sits in the inner parlour with the giants and all the others rattle their mugs in the taproom. Know Hardy? Every word a new link in chain from Adam; every kiss taught by Eve. Sense of Eternity.... Sense of Eternity makes a watch pass quicker. Read Gibbon, boy, when the Commander curses——”
“Light on the port bow, sir!” sang the look-out in the foretop.
“Aye, aye.... Take a bearing, boy.” He took off his cap and flung it on to the bridge below. “Ee.... Signalman o’ the Watch—my cap. Dropped it. Bring it.” And when the Signalman had come and gone he added to John: “Must keep them awake. Must remind ’em I’m here. They like it. Bad for morals to stare too long at the sea. Breaks the morbid current if you bash things about. That’s why Cabinet Ministers ought to have Jesters with balloons. Smack on the head with a balloon restores sense of proportion. Mm?... What was the bearing?... Take the Corporal of the Watch with you and go the Rounds.”