Pirates emerge from the cave and surround them. The maid rushes out to rescue her mistress and is also captured. The pirates drag them into the cave. Enter the Lieutenant with a landing party to capture the pirates. He finds his fiancée's handkerchief on the ground, and asks Ordinary Seaman Gorblimey, in charge of landing party, if he has a detective among his men. A Hostility O.D. with a huge black moustache steps forward, lights an enormous pipe, and demands an overcoat and a bowler hat. Producing a gigantic magnifying-glass he detects stains of rum on the ground and deduces—pirates! The landing party then storms the cave with drawn cutlasses, and a fierce fight ensues, in which, of course, the sailors are triumphant and the pirates are captured. The sweethearts are reunited, and the Lieutenant recognizes Reubenstein as Stinkenstein the spy. The pirates are then liberated on the score of having been instrumental in the capture of Stinkenstein, and the leaders are decorated by the C.-in-C.! Grand finale to the tune of "The Bing Boys are here." Prolonged applause. Curtain.
The audience stands to "Attention" as the band plays "God Save the King"—and the show is over.
Then we all return to H.M.S. ——, where in wardroom and gunroom refreshments are provided. By this time it has turned out a very dirty night, a nasty sea is running, and it is too rough for picket-boats. Presently the stentorian voice of the quartermaster is heard in the officers' messes: "Fourth Battle Squadron's drifter alongside." And out of the warmth and light we all troop to the dark and cold upper deck, and make our way over to the theatre ship. Several drifters are alongside, and these are groaning and creaking under the impact of heavy seas. Icy spray is flying before the wind, and there is only a rope ladder to descend by. Time after time our drifter parts her securing lines and is blown away from the ship's side, or crashes into another astern. At last every one is safely aboard, but there is no shelter from the wind and spray, and ours is the last ship to be called at. Wet and shivering, we curse the weather, and question ruefully if it was really worth while to have gone to the show at all. But at last the drifter draws alongside and we hastily scramble up the rope ladder and make a bolt for the gunroom. A raid on the pantry results in a tin of mixed biscuits, for which we all scramble, and then, very thankfully, turn in.
Well, there you are! How would you like to go out to an amateur theatrical performance in an open picket-boat in wind and rain, and return in a drifter through raging seas in a full gale? What a life! Never mind! There's a good time coming, and as A. M. M. says in Punch:
When the war is over and the Kaiser's out of print,
I'm going to buy some tortoises and watch the beggars sprint;
When the war is over and the sword at last we sheathe,
I'm going to keep a jelly-fish and listen to it breathe.
. . . . . .
When the war is over and the battle has been won,