But before this happy result could be arrived at there was much to be done ... and said, for it must be admitted that there were those among the boat captains who held the opinion that inspections were an unnecessary nuisance, carried out with the sole intention of harassing the inspected.
The First Lieutenant of the Parentis had given out the cheery news after breakfast, and a rush had followed on the part of the ‘Subs,’ unusually tidy in their Sunday rigs, to see that their boats were in a fit condition to withstand the piercing gaze of the Captain’s eagle eye. The boat captains learnt the news not without unmixed feelings, and with shrill cries of horror and reproach the unfortunate Number One was hurled from the ward room. Bitter were the reproaches of one, Blake, whose control room had been painted but the day before, while Austin and several others had work going on and improvements under weigh which they didn’t want disturbed. Raymond surveyed the matter with the stony calm of a fatalist, while the Torpedo Lieutenant alone maintained his unruffled serenity and dropped pearls of wisdom for the comfort and instruction of the discomforted captains.
‘What you fellows really lack,’ he proclaimed from the depths of an arm-chair and between puffs of an after-breakfast pipe, ‘is the power of organisation. The present crisis is an excellent example. At nine a.m. the ‘owner’ announces his intention of inspecting the boats after divisions and prayers, that is at about ten-thirty. Now, mark the result. Nine ‘Subs’ fly at the rate of knots out of the ward room, run round in circles with their hands to their heads, dive down into the boats and begin harassing unfortunate and peace-loving matlows. As regards you people, you’re all completely defeated. You sit here, do nothing, and growl like blazes, when as a matter of fact it doesn’t affect you in the least. The ‘Subs’ do all the work and report when the boats are ready. You then go down and inspect them yourselves, find fault with everything, have the whole place turned upside down, and wait till the dust has settled. At the last minute you have it all put back again as it was before, and stand by for the Captain. Now what you want is organisation. No matter what’s going on you ought to be ready for an inspection at any moment of the day. Mark the ordered routine of my own blameless existence. I rise at eight-thirty each morning as fresh as a lark, and if I’m lucky manage to consume a little breakfast. From then till lunch or cocktail time I maintain a complete and unruffled calm, seated daily in the same arm-chair, unless the claims of the Goddess Work call me to her altars. From lunch until tea I meditate in my bunk, and from tea till dinner I give out hints on the home, and generally instructive and edifying remarks from my present seat of vantage. Bed follows dinner as the fruit follows the flower, and my ordered and well disciplined day is at an end. It will be hard for you, and I foresee many difficulties, but you really must make an effort to follow my example,’ and the Torpedo Lieutenant lay back gasping and mopped his fevered brow with a bandana of barbaric colouring.
‘The point is,’ grumbled Austin, not taking any notice of him, ‘that in war time one can’t keep the boat up to the peace standard. It’s not possible. There’s far too much work to be done, for one thing, and considering the amount of sea time we put in I think we do pretty well in keeping the boats as clean as they are.’
‘That’s the crux of the whole question,’ replied Raymond; ‘in war time the ‘owner’ doesn’t expect to see the boats in the same state of spit and polish as he has been used to in happier times. What he looks for is general efficiency in boats, officers, and men. That’s the reason he and I get on so splendidly. No, don’t heave that book, Jimmy; I’ve got my number one monkey jacket on, and if I have to chastise you I shall get it creased. Hallo! there’s the bugle for divisions. See you later.’
‘I don’t believe in inspections at all in war time,’ said another of the party, as a general move was made for the door. ‘Unfair, I call it. Brings the war home too much.’
Overhead the scurrying of heavily-shod feet and the sound of sharp orders told that the ships’ company was mustering by divisions for the Captain’s inspection, and the boat skippers cleared out to their boats to see that all was in readiness.
Down in ‘123’ the last finishing touches were being applied when Raymond arrived. Everything that brass polish and elbow grease could cause to shine, shone with a satisfactory brilliance, and whatever couldn’t shine was discreetly stowed away and hidden from the vulgar gaze. When all was in readiness, Raymond and the ‘Sub’ made a tour of inspection in search of possible defects or anything that might meet with the disapproval of authority.
‘This hydroplane motor,’ said the latter, putting his hand on a large black object that looked rather like a small mine. ‘It’s been running hot lately. Have to look at it to-morrow. “Owner” won’t know that, though.’
‘Um, no. She doesn’t look too bad. Tell Hoskins to stand the rounds in the engine-room, T.I. in the fore-end, and second coxswain in the control-room.’