“No.”
“And what about the other fellows—Dyce, Cunwell, Driss—do you think they will carry it on?”
“Probably. Possibly we shall when the time comes. It’s the Service custom. It has come down through generations. It’s the devil of a job for any Sub to stand out against it. It might mean his quarrelling with all his senior snotties, and probably the Wardroom would be up against him. Every time a junior snotty did something wrong the Sub would be blamed because the Warts weren’t properly shaken in the Gunroom.”
Fane-Herbert reverted to the personal consideration. “Reedham told me we haven’t had a proper dose of it yet. He said we had better stand by for the first night at sea. Krame is planning great things.”
John thrust the thought from him. “Don’t let’s talk about it,” he said. “We shall have to go back to the ship presently. We shall have enough of it then.... What are you going to do when we get leave? Didn’t you say your people were leaving England?”
“It’s rather in the air at present,” Fane-Herbert answered, “but there’s some talk of my father’s going to Japan to represent his armament firm out there. My mother may go too, and take Margaret with her.... Do you remember Margaret, when my people came down to Osborne years ago? She must have been about fourteen then.”
“Of course I remember her. She stood on the canteen steps with a huge basket of strawberries over her arm. And as everyone passed she looked at them and, if she liked them, she said: ‘Are you in Fane-Herbert’s term, please?’ and if the astonished cadet said he was, she went on: ‘then will you take some strawberries, please?’”
Fane-Herbert laughed. “I never knew about that. It was a good idea of hers only to be generous to our term. She’s a wonderful person.”
“Yes; I remember coming out to lunch with you and going to Carisbrooke for tea. She talked to me the whole time. It was a windy day. Her hair was blowing about.”