Mrs Martin seemed rather alarmed. 'War!' she gasped, looking up with a horrified expression. 'Wot d' you mean, Bill? Surely we're not goin' to war?'
'Course we ain't, ma,' he replied, laughing, and patting her consolingly on the shoulder. 'This 'ere don't mean nothin'; only a bit of a buzz round like. Yer see,' he pointed out with pride, 'we—th' navy, that is—always 'as ter be ready fur these 'ere shows, 'cos if anythin' did 'appen an' we wasn't ready things 'u'd be in a pretty hot mess. S'pose I'd best be makin' a move, though,' he added ruefully. 'Bit orf, I calls it!'
'Gosh! there ain't no bloomin' error abart this 'ere.'
Page 152.
'Goin' now?'
'Fu'st train,' he said, nodding. 'This 'ere telegraph says rejoin immediate. I expec's th' ship's goin' ter sea in an 'urry like, an' they wants me back perticular.'
Mrs Martin gazed at her son with motherly pride. She did not like the idea of his leaving so soon; but it was very consoling to think that he was a person of such importance on board the Belligerent that the ship could not go to sea without him. He must be very valuable, otherwise they would not have telegraphed.
Albert, who had already assimilated half a piece of nougat, and had covered his face with pink stickiness, looked up inquiringly. 'Bill goin'?' he queried fretfully.
'Yes, ducky,' answered his mother. 'Called back to 'is ship. 'E's goin' now.'