'I'm sorry, gennelmen,' he said when he could make himself heard in the uproar. 'The boy's fallen down the 'atch with the joint, an' it ain't fit be to seen. I've some werry nice corned beef'——
A chorus of groans drowned his utterance. 'Let's see the joint,' some one demanded.
'It's bin thrown overboard, sir,' the messman explained glibly, disappearing from view.
Several of the junior midshipmen and the assistant-clerk were despatched to visit the scene of the alleged accident, and to report on what traces they found. There were none. There never had been any joint.
'Tubbs!' they yelled in unison when the spies came back.
The messman's head appeared, and the minute it bobbed up into sight it was greeted with a volley of vegetables. On the whole the shooting was good, and Tubbs made an excellent Aunt Sally. Potatoes baked in their jackets spattered and burst all round the pantry hatch like a rafale of shrapnel-shell, while some, passing through, exploded on impact with the messman's head. The pièce de résistance was a cauliflower. It struck the ledge and detonated like a high-explosive projectile, and the messman received its disintegrated stickiness full in the face. He slammed the hatch up with a bang, and rushed into the mess with his face, beard, and hair dripping with vegetable products; while the culprits, wildly excited, shrieked with laughter. The bombardment would have continued, but the available ammunition was expended.
Tubbs was furious. 'I'll 'ave the law on yer!' he shouted wildly, waving his fists. 'I'll report yer to the commander, and 'ave yer court-martialled, see if I don't! It's disgraceful, that's wot it is, an' wot the navy's comin' to I don't know! Calls yerselves gennelmen, do yer?'
He went on for quite a long time; but nothing further ever came of it. He knew well enough that he had brought it on himself, and thereafter he became rather more particular over the matter of providing meals.
It must not be imagined that the inhabitants of the Belligerent's gunroom always behaved like this. On the contrary, they were an unusually well-conducted mess, and they broke out only when they were really exasperated, and their feelings got the better of them.
The sub, assisted by the senior 'snotties,' had drilled the Crabs into a high state of discipline and efficiency. He believed in using the terror of the stick as a deterrent rather than in employing the weapon itself, and as a consequence the junior midshipmen were never beaten really hard unless they misbehaved themselves. But as Cook himself once remarked, 'You can bet your bottom dollar that for every sin they've been bowled out committing, there are fully fifty more that we haven't discovered;' and there was some truth in the remark.