'No; th' King gives 'em. Leastways they 'as 'is likeness on 'em, so I reckons they comes from 'im. Nutty Buttolph, th' gunlayer o' my gun, 'ad one larst year. 'E wears it Sundays wi' 'is No. 1's. I reckons I oughter got it too, 'cos I'm th' loadin' number wot shoves in th' projectile, an' each six-inch projectile weighs a 'undred pounds. We got orf eight rounds an' got eight 'its on th' targit, an' I reckons it wus me wot done it just as well as 'im.' Billings's chest swelled with pride at the recollection.
''Ard luck!' Pincher murmured.
''Ard luck?' remarked Joshua. 'Course it wus 'ard luck! 'Owever, I took ten bob orf my opposite number in th' flagship, an' fifteen bob orf another bloke wot thought 'is gun could shoot strite. We were top o' th' 'ole bloomin' squadron larst year,' he added; 'precious near top o' th' 'ole navy, an' don't yer bloomin' well forgit it. Our ship's company made a bit of a pay-day over it.'
'Pay-day! 'Ow d' yer mean?'
Joshua grinned and winked one eye. 'Bettin'!' he said in a hoarse whisper.
'But I thought bettin' wusn't allowed?' Martin remonstrated, remembering the regulations.
'No more it is, me son; but th' skipper won 'is ten quid from th' flagship's skipper, 'oo said 'is ship 'u'd beat us; an' w'en 'e won it 'e whacked it art among th' guns' crews, 'e did. Proper gennelman, 'e is. Th' Bloke, an' Jimmy the One,[ [27] an' most o' th' other orficers made a bit too. We're wot we calls 'ot stuff in th' shootin' line, I kin tell yer.'
Billings was quite right. There was certainly no lack of rivalry, for the officers and men of the squadron were as keen on the results obtained by their respective ships as they possibly could be. The gunlayers' test was treated in much the same way as a regatta or a race-meeting, for sweepstakes were got up and bets were freely offered and taken on the performances of individual gunlayers. Strictly against the regulations, of course, but nobody seemed to mind, and the favourites themselves became very important personages for the time being.
To the ship's company of any man-of-war, 'our ship' is invariably the best shooting and the smartest ship not only in the whole squadron, but also in the entire British navy. Disputes as to the merits of two crack vessels have been known to lead to regrettable incidents ashore. Pewter beer-mugs are handy missiles, and black eyes and contusions, though rare, are by no means unheard of. Moreover, if a smart ship which fancies herself is beaten at gunnery by some dark horse, the obvious inferences, from her men's point of view, are: (1) that the umpires have been bribed; (2) that the ammunition was bad, and it therefore affected the shooting; (3) that the sea was much rougher and the ship had far more motion than when H.M.S. So-and-so fired; (4) that the sun was in the wrong place, and that the light was bad; (5) that the weather was misty; and so on, ad infinitum, all the excuses being equally futile.
But rivalry between ships, despite occasional bickerings ashore when their respective partisans wax argumentative, does no harm. On the contrary, it is a good sign. It shows there is esprit de corps.