The work of the Royal Navy and the Mercantile Marine is largely interdependent. The two great sea services of the country must ever work hand in hand and side by side, and let us never forget what we owe to the latter.
POTVIN OF THE PUFFIN
"Well, I'm damned!" ejaculated the first lieutenant, looking up from his breakfast as a barefooted signalman held a slate under his nose. "Just as I'm in the middle of painting ship!"
The navigator, doctor, and assistant paymaster looked up from their plates. "What's up, Number One?" queried the former.
"Only that the new skipper's arrived in the English mail," said the first lieutenant glumly.
"He's coming on board at nine o'clock in the Spartan's steamboat!"
"Good Lord!" protested Cutting, the doctor. "So soon? It was only a week ago we saw his appointment!"
"Can't help that," No. One growled. "He's arrived, and he'll be on
board in exactly three quarters of an hour's time. Lord help us!
You'd better put on a clean tunic and your best society manners, Doc.
You'll want 'em both."
"Why the deuce can't he leave us in peace a bit longer?" complained
Falland, the lieutenant (N).
"And why the devil does he want to come just at the end of the quarter when I'm busy with my accounts?" grumbled Augustus Shilling, the assistant paymaster, blinking behind his spectacles. "I know jolly well what it'll be. For the next week I shan't be able to call my soul my own, and he'll be sending for me morning, noon, and night to explain things. The writer's gone sick, too. Oh, it IS the limit!"