Evening: the lady is discovered sitting outside the tea-house with
her maid. After a few moments of desultory conversation the maid is
dismissed, and the lady awaits her lover.
Enter Stinkenstein, singing. The lady does not take the trouble
to look round, but assumes—quite unwarrantably and regardless of
grammar—"That's _him_." Stinkenstein comes up behind her, puts his arms
round her neck, and is about to embrace her, when she discovers her
mistake, and proceeds to tell him in nervous English exactly what she
thinks of him.
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,
I'm going to buy a barnacle and take it for a run;
When the war is over and the German fleet we sink,
I'm going to keep a silkworm's egg and listen to it think.
. . . . . .
When the war is over and we've done the Belgians proud,
I'm going to keep a chrysalis and read to it aloud;
When the war is over and we've finished up the show,
I'm going to plant a lemon-pip and listen to it grow.