On this occasion, however, the Belligerent's guns were possessed of a devil. She did very well, it is true, and came out second in the squadron, but was just beaten by the Tremendous. The defeat came as a severe blow, particularly as a treasured silver challenge cup, presented by the admiral and awarded annually to the best ship, now left its resting-place on the Belligerent's mess-deck and found its way to the flagship. It was carried off in triumph by the winners; but the Belligerent's gunlayers cursed long and loud, and swore by all their gods that it had been won by a fluke. So did some of the officers.
'This 'ere's th' ruddy limit!' Billings muttered fiercely. 'Ter think o' these 'ere Duffos[ [28] 'avin' th' imperence ter say they 'ave beaten us! They ain't done it fair! S' welp me, they ain't! It's enuf ter make a bloke take ter—ter anythin'!' He was going to say 'beer;' but, remembering Mrs Figgins and his new-found respectability, he wisely refrained.
After spending a month at Gibraltar, they returned to Portland to give four days' Easter leave, and then sailed off to Berehaven, where they did more gunnery. Then on to the west coast of Scotland for a cruise, and finally back to Portland again.
The time passed very rapidly. Spring gave way to summer, and in due course Pincher found himself passed out of the seamanship training-class and handed over to the tender mercies of a torpedo gunner's mate, who crammed his head with an astounding number of facts pertaining to electricity and torpedo work generally.
One Sunday in the early summer, however, the chaplain rather electrified his congregation. 'I publish the banns of marriage,' he read, 'between Able Seaman Joshua Billings, bachelor, of this ship, and Martha Ann Figgins, widow, of the parish of St Cuthbert's, Weymouth. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony, you are to declare it. This is for the first time of asking.'
The commander, and various other officers who knew Joshua intimately, could hardly restrain their mirth.
'The old devil!' Tickle exclaimed in the smoking-room after the service. 'To think of any woman wanting to marry him!'
'There are plenty of worse men than Billings,' the commander disagreed. 'He's not very attractive to look at, I'll admit; but, provided he keeps off beer, he and his Martha'll get on all right. What he wants is a woman to rule him with a rod of iron.'
'You'd better give the lady a few tips, sir,' Tickle suggested.
'Not I!' laughed the commander. 'I shall merely present them with an ormolu timepiece—whatever that may be. It shall be suitably inscribed, too. You see,' he added, 'Billings, in spite of beer, is quite one of the best seamen in the ship, and I shall be very sorry to lose him when he takes his pension.'