Turning out the duty sub-division of his watch the midshipman superintended the task, the while fearing the commander’s ire should the stubborn canvas “take charge and carry away”, through the careless handling of the men engaged upon the job.
At length the awnings were furled and the hands trooped for’ard, leaving the officer-of-the-watch and Midshipman Raxworthy in sole occupation of the wind-swept quarter-deck. Now that the curtains were removed there was nothing to shelter the two officers from the icy blast that swept unrestrainedly across the exposed deck.
Drifts of snow accumulated against hatchway coamings. Raxworthy was young enough to revel in a snowballing contest, but by virtue of the dignity of his minor authority such delights were denied him. Dejectedly he paced the deck in company with the distinctly morose officer-of-the-watch who, upon his own admission, was “fed up to the back teeth”, because duty held him back from Christmas festivities ashore.
There was nothing to do, no signals to be given or received. Everything beyond a radius of about a hundred yards was hidden in swirling flakes of snow. As it was between half ebb and low water the entrance to Junk Harbour was impassable and in consequence no vessel would be entering or leaving. According to custom look-outs were posted both on the bridge and in the eyes of the ship, but in the circumstances their task, like that of the watch-keeping officer was a mere matter of form.
“And this is a Merry Christmas—I don’t think!” thought Raxworthy, as the morning wore on in freezing inactivity.
His trick over, the midshipman ate a sorry meal in solitary state in the deserted gun-room. To make matters worse, the stove was behaving abominably, giving out hardly any heat and sending out clouds of smoke.
Ringing the bell the midshipman summoned the gun-room messman.
“See that that cowl is trimmed properly, Jones,” he ordered. “I’m being smoked out!”
“Very good, sir,” replied the messman, at the same time placing a book upon the table.
Raxworthy glared banefully at the unwanted gift. He knew perfectly well what it was—the commander’s night-order book.