Before anyone could reply there came from outside the officers' quarters a voice singing the words of a well-known carol.
"What's this stunt?" asked Dennis.
"The sergeants," replied the Orderly Officer. "They've come to serenade us, I believe. It'll mean a bottle of whisky against the mess."
"Invite them in," suggested another.
The suggestion was acted upon, but little did the mess know what it was in for when it invited the roystering serenaders into its fold.
Very solemnly the sergeants filed in—eleven N.C.Os., of whom every man save one had been in the Royal Navy before transferring into the Royal Air Force. Headed by a sergeant with a side-drum, and followed by two with fifes, the motley-arrayed crush took up semi-circular formation at one end of the ante-room, the Sergeant-Major acting as master of the ceremonies. In half an hour their repertoire of carols was exhausted, so they "switched on" to the old-time sea-chanties. Followed an interval for refreshments and speechmaking, to which Derek, in his capacity of Deputy Mess-President, had to reply.
"It's about time they piped down," thought Derek, glancing at his wristlet-watch.
But no!
"Would the officers like to hear Sergeant Butler sing 'The Long-Lost Cabin-Boy'?" asked the Sergeant-Major.
In a weak moment Derek assented on behalf of the officers, and the act of torture began. There were twenty-five verses of "The Long-Lost Cabin-Boy", each with a double chorus. Then, with hardly a break, the now almost exhausted mess had to listen to another song, "You stand by the Ship, lads, I must be ashore by five", and a pointedly topical recitation, "Christmas Day in the Marine Depot", in which the sergeants got in several witty hits against their officers.