‘Very good, sir. Hallo! they’re at prayers,’ he added as the strains of a hymn accompanied by the Marine Band floated down the hatch. ‘Not much longer now. I think she’ll do, sir. Fall the hands in on the upper deck, coxswain.’
The last brass rag and lump of waste were stowed away and the men scrambled up on deck. ‘123’ was a pleasure to the eye and a credit to the makers of liquid metal polish. All down the long tunnel of her inside, from the engines to the torpedo-tube doors, her steel and brass and copper winked and twinkled in the electric light, her white enamel was spotless, and her deckcloths were a glory to behold.
Raymond took a final look round. ‘Good enough,’ he said, as he went up the conning-tower followed by the ‘Sub.’ ‘Now for the ordeal by fire.’
On deck the crew had fallen in in one long single line facing towards the parent ship. Ten men forward of the conning-tower and as many aft, all dressed in their best suits of ‘Number Three,’ and looking remarkably spick and span and on their metal. They were standing at ease now and sucking their teeth in anticipation, after the manner of the A.B. who is in the rattle or otherwise undergoing some order or other. By the gang plank to the next boat, for ‘123’ was the outside vessel, and three of her sisters lay between her and the Parentis, stood the coxswain with his boatswain’s pipe in hand, and Raymond took his stand beside him in readiness to receive the Post-Captain on board.
Seagrave stood by in charge of the crew and Boyd was on the bridge, which was the only remaining unoccupied space on the upper deck. Between them and the Parentis the crews of the other three boats were drawn up in the same manner, and on the other side of the depot-ship were five more boats in a similar state of cleanliness and innocent expressions. They all flew their newest and largest ensigns, and looked very smart and business-like in their Sunday dresses.
The music on the Parentis quarter-deck drew to a close. Three hundred men came to attention and replaced their caps simultaneously, and the chaplain disappeared aft, his surplice waving in the breeze, as the Church pendant fluttered down to the bridge. Another order and the ship’s company faced forward and moved off the quarter-deck, the band, which had struck up a lively march, wheeled in behind the rear division, and the ceremony was at an end.
A dramatic pause followed, and then the figure of Captain Charteris appeared at the port-gangway. The boatswain’s mate of the Parentis and the coxswain of the inside boat, which happened to be Blake’s, twittered on their pipes as he descended, and then he was lost to view in the internals of the boat. He had come alone, unattended by First Lieutenants or other minions, which augered well for the results of the inspection.
Austin, whose boat was next inside Raymond’s, turned round with a laugh.
‘Hope the “old man” doesn’t run up against Blake’s white paint,’ he said. ‘Pretty small chance for us if he does.’
‘Trust Blake to watch that,’ came the answer. ‘He won’t want his precious paint disturbed even by the coat of a full-fledged Captain.’ Once more silence and expectancy, and then the Captain reappeared up the hatch followed by Blake, who looked moist and anxious but happy withal.