[pg 128] "Right ho," all cried. Now this is a violation of the unwritten law. A captain in the service is a little tin god. He must not be ragged by his juniors. But the spirit of mischief abounded. Armed with mops, brooms, hose pipes, and minus their caps and jackets, they rushed the captains' rooms. Danger had been scented. As they entered the sacred sanctum they were received with well-directed douches from buckets of water. This soaked them to the skin, and for a moment checked the general advance.
"Charge!" ordered the senior sub. An order is an order, so they promptly obeyed. There was a merry scrum. Jim Longlegs seized the nearest man and promptly commenced to give this somewhat portly person a half-nelson and a duck in a basin. Heavens! when he looked at his antagonist's face he found it was that of Major Tartan, who had been visiting the captains' rooms. He was nonplussed for a moment, for a major is like the prophet Allah, one of the Holy of Holies. To even touch a hair of his head is more irreligious than the tearing out of the precious eyes of a Brahmin's god. But the major was a [pg 129] sport. The temporary astonishment of the senior sub was used by him to the best advantage. With a great effort he encircled Longlegs' waist, and heaved him with a terrible crash to the floor. The lamp was smashed and the revellers found themselves in darkness. This lessened the fear of the consequences. Beds were lifted and crashed around. Basins were emptied out over the blankets. Brooms smashed through the windows, while many of the captains and subs had their shirts torn from their backs. And then the whistle blew "Retire." The subs retired singing "Rule, Britannia," and yelling
"Glory, Glory, Halleujah,
Glory, Glory, Halleujah,
Glory, Glory, Halleujah,
We've wrecked the Captains' Home."
It was in the after-discussion of the night's escapade that Cocky Dan dared Jim Longlegs to sneak into the C.O.'s room and collar the colonel's cork leg, which always lay by the side of his bed.
"Done," said the senior sub before he realised his venture. But it had to go on. His pluck was at stake. There was a tense silence as he crept out of the room in his [pg 130] stocking soles. Quietly he opened the colonel's door and slipped inside. The old gentleman lay on his bed asleep. Jim crept forward and stealthily picked up the colonel's cork limb. He smiled grimly as he turned towards the door. Cocky Dan would have to yield him that fiver after all. But just as he touched the handle there was a rustle on the bed and then a terrible roar—
"Damn you, Mr Longlegs—how dare you?...?...?" cursed the colonel, who slept lightly, due to his years of living amongst the Dervishes and Afridis.
"I'm—I'm—I'm sor——"
"Put that leg down—get out, you scamp. Report to me in the morning."
The senior sub placed the leg down again, in the most shamefaced manner. He was sorry he had been caught. He had meant no disrespect, for the colonel was a lovable old gentleman at heart. But he had violated a sacred rule, and he guessed what the morning would bring forth. When he arrived back in the subs' rooms his fellow-officers went pale with terror and quickly scampered to bed.
"I think we ought to report this ragging business to the colonel," said a supercilious senior to old Major Tartan next morning.