REMOVED FROM THE NAVY LIST.
"WELL?" asked Eccles, as Sub-lieutenant Basil Dacres came off to the
ship at the expiration of his leave.
"Ripping time, by Jove! I'll tell you about it when you've done your
trick. Is the commander below?"
Receiving an affirmative reply the sub made his way to Commander
Bourne's cabin, bubbling over with suppressed excitement.
"I've done it, sir," he announced. "Spoofed the whole jolly lot of
them, Admiral included."
"Hope you've covered up your tracks?" asked his superior anxiously.
"Rather! I snubbed Garboard, twitted Oxley and played the very
dickens with the flagship's midshipmen. It was hot work, though.
Fancy spending a couple of hours on a day like this with a pillow
stuffed under your waistcoat, and false moustaches tickling like
billy-ho."
Bourne laughed heartily as Dacres related the details of the joke he
had played, but his face grew serious as he remarked:--
"'Pon my word, Dacres, I'm rather sorry I let you carry out this mad
prank, after all. It's bound to leak out."
"It may, sir. If it does the flagship's people won't say much. The
less they say the better, for they will be the laughing-stock of the
squadron."
"I don't know so much about that," rejoined the commander. "You see,
we must do our best to keep it to ourselves. The culprit must be
screened. If there is a row, of course I must own up to my share."
"You must do nothing of the sort, sir," said the sub firmly. "This is
my pigeon, you know. Anyway, they haven't tumbled to it yet, and when
they do they'll have to go a long way to spot me."
During the First Dog Watch the commander told the captain, who
laughed till the tears rolled down his mahogany-coloured cheeks. The
chaplain had it third hand from the skipper, and passed the news on
to the ward-room. As for the gun-room they heard it directly from
Dacres.
So far so good. Loyalty to a brother officer joke a sure bond that
the joke against the unpopular flagship would be kept a secret. But
Jones, the captain's valet, heard his master and the padre laughing
immoderately--was human enough to put his ear to the keyhole of the
captain's cabin. In less than an hour the whole of the lower deck
heard the yarn, and Mr. Dacres was unanimously acclaimed a
"thunderin' brick."
Everything passed off quietly until the following afternoon. It was
the calm before the storm.
Basil Dacres had just completed his trick as "Duty Sub," and was
enjoying a cooling glass of lime juice in the gun-room when a
signalman knocked at the door.
"Chit for Mr. Dacres, sir," he announced.
The sub held out his hand for the folded slip of paper. His intuition
told him that something was amiss: it was.
"Flag to officer commanding H.M.S. 'Royal Oak.' Mr. Basil Dacres,
sub-lieutenant, is to report himself on board the flagship as soon as
possible."
Dacres said not a word to his messmates, but the deep flush that
swept over his bronzed features told its own tale.
Without waiting to give explanations or to receive condolences or
advice the sub hurried off to his cabin and changed into No. Eight
Rig. In the midst of the operation Commander Bourne entered. He had,
in the course of his duty, initialled the message and guessed its
purport.
"Look here, Dacres," he exclaimed impulsively, "I'm going with you.
There's bound to be a most unholy bust-up, I'm afraid; but I mean to
stand by you."
For a moment the sub hesitated. He quite realized the need of a
friend to back him up during the coming ordeal, but his independence
quickly reasserted itself.
"I don't think you need, sir," he replied. "You see, it may be
something else. In any case, I'd much rather I went through by
myself."
"You would?"
"Yes, sir."
"But, look here, Dacres----"
"It's no use, sir. I'll stick to it somehow. What's the good of
getting other men mixed up in this affair when one can bear the
brunt. Sharing the blame will not make things any easier for me, I'm
afraid. After all, I had a rattling good time."
There was a ring of determination in the sub's voice that compelled
his superior officer to give way.
"Very well, then," said Bourne reluctantly. "You go alone. But, mark
you, if there's to be any serious bother I, as your commander and a
fellow conspirator, will stand by you."
"All right, then, sir," replied Dacres, "that's agreed. If I am in
danger of going under I'll look to my superior officer for
assistance."
Just then Eccles and Plumbly, the assistant paymaster, entered the
cabin and expressed their intention of "standing in."
"Standing in--what about?" demanded Dacres.
"About hoaxing the flagship, of course," replied Eccles.
"You've done your part of the business," retorted the sub, "now let
me carry on with mine. For one thing I'm not sure that the Admiral
wants me in connexion with that affair. How on earth could he find
out? Now sheer off, there's good fellows, and let me finish
dressing."
Young Alderney was midshipman of the duty boats, and on the run to
the "Repulse" he added his condolences till Dacres peremptorily cut
him short. The sub hated outward expressions of sympathy almost as
much as he detested formal praise. He vastly preferred in matters of
this sort to be self-reliant.
Gaining the quarter-deck of the flagship he saluted with the utmost
coolness, and turned to follow the lieutenant who was to escort him
to the Admiral's cabin. Three or four youngsters, whom he recognized
as being members of the French instructor's class, were on deck,
evidently anticipating his discomfiture. Something about his bearing
impelled them to return to the shelter of the after barbette, feeling
rather sorry for the man who had so recently "pulled their legs."
Vice-Admiral Maynebrace was alone. He had sent his secretary away on
some convenient duty, and well-nigh bursting with indignation he
stood prepared for the fray.
"Well, sir," he began, as soon as the door was closed. "Do you
recognize this?"
And he held up the pseudo Jean le Plaisant's card.
"Yes, sir," answered the sub calmly.
"Then, perhaps, sir, next time you have an opportunity to impersonate
a French professor you might have the sense to remember that
_littérateur_ is spelt with a double 't.' Had it not been for the
perspicuity of the officer of the watch your senseless joke might
have passed off undetected--at least for a time. Now, sir, you, on
your own confession, have been guilty of the heinous offence of
bringing his Majesty's uniform into contempt. A senseless joke, sir!
There are no extenuating circumstances."
Admiral Maynebrace paused to recover his breath. He had completely
forgotten his early days, when, a ringleader of a little mob of
midshipmen from the guardship, he had gone ashore at Southampton in
the small hours of the morning and had artistically decorated the two
lions guarding the historic Bargate. Dacres had heard of the episode
and how young Maynebrace was jockeyed out of what promised to be a
serious scrape; and he was half tempted to remind his superior of
that little delinquency, but the sub had steadfastly made up his mind
not to say a word save to reply directly to questions put to him.
The Admiral had fully expected that the culprit would metaphorically
go down on his knees and beg for pardon, but he had mistaken Dacres'
character. The sub's silence and coolness goaded him to a further
outburst.
"Confound you, sir!" he roared. "You're a discredit to the Service,
sir. You have two alternatives: either to stand your trial by
court-martial for unbecoming conduct, or to send in your papers. You
understand?"
"Yes, sir," replied Dacres.
The pros and cons of the two alternatives flashed through his mind in
a brief instant. He was fully convinced that the old martinet meant
to have him kicked out of the Service. A court-martial could but
bring in a verdict of guilty and with no extenuating circumstances.
The publicity and disgrace were most undesirable. By resigning he
might be able to make a fresh start in another sphere, without the
taint of ignominy. His father's words, "Unless you stop this sort of
thing there'll be trouble. It will end in your being court-martialled
and kicked out of the Service. And, by Jove! if you are, don't look
to me for sympathy," came home with redoubled force.
"I'll send in my papers, sir," he said steadily.
The Admiral looked searchingly at him as if to detect any signs of
remorse in his words. There were none.
"Very good," he replied with an air of finality. "You may go, sir."
Vice-Admiral Maynebrace spent a restless night. Possibly it was the
tropical heat, but more than once he thought of the young officer
whose career was in jeopardy.
"If only the young fool had said he was sorry," he soliloquized, "I
would have let him down lightly. Hang it! I'll send for him again in
the morning and see if he's amenable to reason."
But when morning came, before the Admiral could carry out his good
intention, Sub-lieutenant Basil Dacres' papers, duly annoted by his
captain, were sent to the flagship accompanied by a written
application for the young officer to be allowed to withdraw from his
Majesty's Service.
The receipt of this document was received by both ships with feelings
of regret. The officers of the flagship, in spite of the fact that
they were indignant at the prank that had been played upon them, were
good-natured fellows. They fully expected that the culprit would
"climb down" and apologize for his delinquency; but they were
mistaken. They had misjudged Dacres' peculiar temperament, for the
sub, regarding himself as being with his back to the wall, was as
obstinate as the proverbial mule. Now that the sub had taken the
desperate plunge, they felt genuinely sorry.
As for the ship's company of the "Royal Oak" they were all completely
taken aback. Dacres was a favourite with his brother-officers and
well-liked by the Lower Deck. It seemed incomprehensible that the
Admiral should take such a strong step; but it was not the first time
that drastic measures were the result of comparatively slight
offences against discipline.
At the eleventh hour Admiral Maynebrace sent a message to the "Royal
Oak" to ask whether Sub-lieutenant Dacres had reconsidered the
matter. In vain Captain Staggers tried to reason with his
subordinate.
"Look here, Dacres," he said kindly. "Think over this affair.
Remember your career is at stake. It was a silly thing to do to
attempt to hoax the flagship, in spite of the circumstances. Of
course you realize that we were in sympathy with you, but that was a
mistake. If you think you are going to come out 'top-dog' in your
difference with the Admiral the sooner you put that idea out of your
head the better. I don't believe in the whole of naval history that a
junior officer has done so with any degree of success. You see, it's
against all principles of discipline."
"Thank you, sir," replied Dacres, "but I'm afraid you cannot
understand my motives, and I cannot very well explain. All the same,
I don't wish to withdraw my resignation; and as to scoring over the
Admiral, well, the idea never entered into my head until you
mentioned it. But I may, even yet," he added.
Nettled by the sub's refusal, the Admiral used the power entrusted to
him under the revised King's Regulations. He accepted Dacres'
resignation, without having to wait for Admiralty authority; and
before noon on the same day Dacres ceased to be an officer of his
Majesty's navy.
"Look here, Dacres," exclaimed Commander Bourne impetuously, "you're
a young rotter. You remember what I said: 'If there's any serious
bother I, your commander and fellow conspirator, will stand by you.'
To that you agreed; so I'm off to the flagship to bear my share of
the brunt."
Dacres looked at the commander for a few moments, then, doing what he
would not have dared to do but an hour previously, he tapped him
familiarly on the shoulder.
"Look here, Bourne," he said, "you are no longer my superior officer,
so the deal's off. If you attempt to put your finger in my pie I'll
give you the biggest hiding you've ever had in your life. So don't
make matters worse, and I'll be thankful to one of the best pals I've
ever had in the Service."
Bourne agreed reluctantly. He had fully intended to interview the
Admiral, but now he was somewhat relieved to find that Dacres had
vetoed the proposal. The commander's prospects were no longer in
danger; and since Bourne's chances of promotion depended solely upon
merit--for he had no outside influence--he was genuinely grateful for
the principal culprit's magnanimity.
That same afternoon the squadron, with the exception of the "Royal
Oak," weighed and proceeded to sea. The "Royal Oak" had developed
slight engine-room defects and was left behind in order to effect
necessary repairs.
Thus an opportunity occurred of giving a demonstration that otherwise
could not have taken place; for as Dacres went over the side of the
battleship for the last time the officers turned out on the
quarter-deck to bid him good luck, while by a purely spontaneous
impulse the men gave three rousing cheers for the youngster whom they
could no longer regard as one of the ship's company of H.M.S. "Royal
Oak."