Behind the "Judge" stood the Pimple—a black mask hiding most of his face—brandishing a huge meat-chopper, kindly lent by the marine butcher.
The Orphan had vanished.
The China Doll was now marched to the Bar.
"Attention! Silence in Court!" shouted the War Baby in a shrill falsetto; and the two "Jailers", standing on each side of the China Doll, repeated it after him, trying to make funny faces, and jerking the ends of the chain coiled round the "Prisoner's" chest, whilst that luckless youth opened and shut his eyes, and kept saying: "Shut up! you're hurting!"
Silence, or comparative silence, having been obtained, Uncle Podger gravely read, from a long roll of paper, the horrible charge: "Whereas, Mr. Charles Stokes, commonly known as the China Doll, did, after being duly warned and cautioned not to wear pink socks"—(loud "booing" from the "crowd", and a request from the "crowd" for his cot to be shifted a little farther for'ard, so that he could see better).
After this interruption, and the Court had settled down again, the "Judge-Advocate" resumed: "pink socks, not in accordance with the Uniform Regulations of His Majesty's Navy, and also infringing the customs of the Honourable Mess, and being distasteful to the Honourable Members thereof, and did indulge this noxious habit on sundry and divers occasions, to wit, notably at dinner on the thirteenth day of the first month of the year nineteen hundred and sixteen; therefore, the aforesaid Mr. Charles Stokes be now brought before a Court Martial, duly assembled, and his crime diligently, and with all due formality, examined into, and death or other such punishment as be deemed necessary, awarded."
"Prisoner at the Bar," the "Judge-Advocate" began sternly—("Tremble, China Doll," Rawlins implored in a whisper. "Shake the chain and the handcuffs.")—"having heard the grave charge, do you plead guilty or not guilty?"
"Guilty, my Lord," squeaked the "Prisoner", knowing that this was just what no one would want him to say.
"The 'Prisoner at the Bar' pleads 'Not guilty'—not guilty, my Lord!'" shrieked the "Provost-Marshal", "Master-at-Arms", "Second Executioner", and "Prisoner's Escort", all rolled in one, waving his long sword; the two comic "Jailers" joined in to drown the "Prisoner's" voice.
There was now heard, from the deck outside, shouts of "Justice! Justice!" and a rather mild "booing" from the "crowd"; in rushed the Orphan and struck an attitude. "Am I too late to save my young friend's life?" he cried tragically, holding one hand against the front of his monkey-jacket, beneath which something bulged out. "The prisoner pleads 'Not guilty, my Lord!' and I am here to prove his innocence. Fleeing from the Dardanelles, flying from the post of danger, I—I—I—— Oh, hang it all; I can't remember any more!"