There are always a number of boys on British ships, for the British hold that to be a good sailor, one should early become familiar with the sea. The status of "boy" is a kind of distinct rating, and these youngsters are addressed by their last names, viz., Boy Bumblechook or Boy Stiggins. They have shown up wonderfully well. One has but to recall little Cornell of Jutland to see of what stuff these lads are made.
The British sailor's uniform is picturesque and characteristic, but certainly less attractive than ours. It is cut not of broadcloth or of serge, but of heavy blue worsted, and a detachable collar of blue linen falls back upon the blouse. Our sailors are forever washing the blouses to keep the white stripes of the collar clean; the Briton has only his collar to care for. And there is a difference between the national builds as marked as the difference twixt the uniforms. Our Jack is rangy, lean and quick-moving, the Briton heavier, shorter, and more deliberate. In hours of leisure, the Briton busies himself with knitting, wood-carving or weaving rag rugs; the American, driven by the mechanical genius of the nation, hurries to the ship's machine shop to pound a half-crown into a ring.
The sons of Columbia and the sons of Britannia get on very well together. At the big club house at the Irish base, there are always little groups of British sailors to be seen, quiet, well-behaved fellows who watch everything with British dignity. Our bluejackets, however, are far more chummy with British soldiers than with Britons of their own calling. Navy blue and khaki are forever going down the street arm in arm. The tar is always keen to hear of the front. Tommy does the talking. After all, there is a difference in the vernacular. Witness this poem which I reprint from the August number of Our Navy. It is by a Navy man, Mr. R. P. Maulsley. The word Limey, here shortened to "Lima," means, used as a noun, a British sailorman; used as an adjective, British. The term had its origin in the ancient British custom of giving lime juice to ward off scurvy.
THE LIMA AND THE YANKS
By R. P. Maulsley
It was nice and cozy in the "Pub,"
And blowing cold outside.
By the fireplace sat two gobbies,
America's joy and pride.
When a Lima from a cruiser
Thought their talk he'd like to hear,
And sat down just behind them,
With a half o' pint of beer.
And o'er a flowing mug of ale,
That held about a quart,
He heard them swapping stories
About their stay in port.
"Say, this is sure some burg,
Tho' it ain't the U.S.A.,
But did you pipe the classy Jane,
That passed us on the quay?
"She gave me some sweet smile, bo,
And winked her pretty eye,"
"Get out, you big hay-maker,
It was for me she meant to sigh."