Larrikins was put by the master-at-arms to ‘show us the ropes’ in getting our supplies from the galley for this supper, as previously; and amused himself considerably at our expense, chaffing some of the new chaps about their not having “smelt such a thing as tea before,” so he hinted.
“I s’pose now,” he said to Mick Donovan, whose queer description of himself had already got wind through the ship. I’m afraid from the corporal who took us to the sick-bay having ‘split’ upon him, “in your country you’d eat them tea leaves, instead o’ wettin’ on ’em, stooed in ile, same as the I-talians cook everything I’m told, hey?”
“Faith, if I had ye in the ould counthry,” answered back Mick, not for a moment nonplussed, “I’d soon show ye how an Oitalian of the raal sort, loike me fayther, sor, lives! Bedad, it’s praties an’ crame we hev fur tay, sure, ivvery day in the wake!”
This created a good deal of noisy merriment as we sat round the mess-table near the entry-port, causing the sharp-eared, lynx-eyed ‘Jaunty’ to spot the offender from his convenient post of observation hard by.
“Be quiet there, Paddy!” he sang out, poking his head above the window-sill. “Do you think you’re in your own mud cabin in the wilds of Connemara? As for you, Larrikins, I have warned you before, and you had better keep your weather eye open, my joker!”
We were all as quiet as lambs in an instant, not a sound being heard above the clatter of the cups and saucers, and the gulps made by ‘Ugly’ in swallowing his tea, that individual being as piggish in his habits as he was in his appearance; and, presently, this clatter was increased by our collecting the mess-traps after finishing our meal, when the same process of cleaning up was effected as before, everything being left as tidy in and around the vicinity of Mess Number 52 as we had found it when first installed there.
From Six to Eight Bells, in the second dog-watch, the boys, I found, were allowed to skylark about the upper deck and aloft, playing ‘follow my leader’ up and down the rigging, without any interference or interruption from the officers and instructors, save when it seemed to them the larking might degenerate into horseplay.
Then, it was put a slop to, so far as the particular incident was concerned, in a twinkle.
Not being in uniform, I kept aloof from these mad pranks, sticking close to Mick Donovan, who I saw was ashamed of his ragged clothes, being afraid of the boys jeering him, like Larrikins.
That worthy soon picked us out, though; aye, in spite of our sheltering under the lee of the bridge, and being almost concealed in the evening gloom.