The Captain’s eyes twinkled.
‘Not so bad, Raymond,’ he said. ‘Not so bad. A little more practice and you’ll become one of the wonders of the deep.’
‘I don’t know about that, sir,’ laughed Raymond. ‘I ought to have got both attacks in, really, and I only just got him the last time by a fluke.’
The Captain smiled and changed the subject. At the other end of the ward room somebody was playing the piano and the strains of ‘The Admiral’s Broom’ rose in a deep baritone. When the chorus was reached the party round the fire joined in:—
‘I’ve a whip at the mast said he,
For a whip is the sign for me,
That the World may know, where ever I go,
I ride and rule the Sea....’
The good old words filled the room and floated up through the skylight to the silent quarter-deck, where the officer of the watch paced up and down, and the anchored ships showed up as deeper blotches in the darkness. Overhead the wireless buzzed and crackled, and the lapping of the water between the boats alongside sounded like mermaids’ kisses.
A quartermaster on his way forward paused by the open skylight listening to the tinkle of the piano.