I
On the edge of the North Sea sits an Admiral in charge of a stretch of
coast without lights or marks, along which the traffic moves much as
usual. In front of him there is nothing but the east wind, the enemy,
and some few our ships. Behind him there are towns, with M.P.'s
attached, who a little while ago didn't see the reason for certain
lighting orders. When a Zeppelin or two came, they saw. Left and right
of him are enormous docks, with vast crowded sheds, miles of
stone-faced quay-edges, loaded with all manner of supplies and crowded
with mixed shipping.
In this exalted world one met Staff-Captains, Staff-Commanders,
Staff-Lieutenants, and Secretaries, with Paymasters so senior that
they almost ranked with Admirals. There were Warrant Officers, too,
who long ago gave up splashing about decks barefoot, and now check and
issue stores to the ravenous, untruthful fleets. Said one of these,
guarding a collection of desirable things, to a cross between a
sick-bay attendant and a junior writer (but he was really an expert
burglar), "_No!_ An' you can tell Mr. So-and-so, with my compliments,
that the storekeeper's gone away--right away--with the key of these
stores in his pocket. Understand me? In his trousers pocket."
He snorted at my next question.
"_Do_ I know any destroyer-lootenants?" said he. "This coast's rank
with 'em! Destroyer-lootenants are born stealing. It's a mercy they's
too busy to practise forgery, or I'd be in gaol. Engineer-Commanders?
Engineer-Lootenants? They're worse!... Look here! If my own mother was
to come to me beggin' brass screws for her own coffin, I'd--I'd think
twice before I'd oblige the old lady. War's war, I grant you that;
but what I've got to contend with is crime."
I referred to him a case of conscience in which every one concerned
acted exactly as he should, and it nearly ended in murder. During a
lengthy action, the working of a gun was hampered by some empty
cartridge-cases which the lieutenant in charge made signs (no man
could hear his neighbour speak just then) should be hove overboard.
Upon which the gunner rushed forward and made other signs that they
were "on charge," and must be tallied and accounted for. He, too, was
trained in a strict school. Upon which the lieutenant, but that he was
busy, would have slain the gunner for refusing orders in action.
Afterwards he wanted him shot by court-martial. But every one was
voiceless by then, and could only mouth and croak at each other, till
somebody laughed, and the pedantic gunner was spared.
"Well, that's what you might fairly call a naval crux," said my friend
among the stores. "The Lootenant was right. 'Mustn't refuse orders in
action. The Gunner was right. Empty cases _are_ on charge. No one
ought to chuck 'em away that way, but.... Damn it, they were _all_ of
'em right! It ought to ha' been a marine. Then they could have killed
him and preserved discipline at the same time."