CHAOS IN THE CABIN
It was a march of about five miles to the beach along a straight road
bordered with palm trees. At some distance from the highway the
country was thick with scrub, from which the sickly smell of the
mangroves rose in the still slanting rays of the sun.
Most of the heavy baggage had already been sent down, but with the
troops were hundreds of native carriers, each bearing a load of about
sixty pounds, while crowds of native women and children flocked to see
the last of the regiment for some time to come.
The embarkation had to be performed by means of boats from the open
beach, against which white rollers surged heavily, the thundering of
the surf being audible for miles. At a long distance from the shore,
so that she appeared little larger than a boat, lay the transport
_Zungeru_, rolling sluggishly at a single anchor, while steaming slowly
in the offing was a light cruiser detailed to act as escort to the
convoy, for more transports were under orders to rendezvous off Cape
Coast Castle.
Amidst the loud and discordant vociferations of the native boatmen the
troops boarded the broad, shallow-drafted surf boats, each man having
the breech-mechanism of his rifle carefully wrapped in oiled canvas to
prevent injury from salt water. In batches of twenty the Waffs left
their native soil, but not before three boat loads had been
unceremoniously capsized in the surf, to the consternation of the men
affected and the light-hearted merriment of their more fortunate
comrades.
Without mishap Wilmshurst gained the accommodation-ladder of the
_Zungeru_, where brawny British mercantile seamen, perspiring freely in
the torrid heat, were energetically assisting their black passengers on
board with encouraging shouts of "Up with you, Sambo!" "Mind your nut,
Darkie!" and similar exhortations. The while derricks were swaying in
and out, whipping the baggage from the holds of the lighters that lay
alongside, grinding heavily in the swell, fenders notwithstanding.
Having seen the men of his platoon safely on board Wilmshurst went
below to the two-berthed cabin which he was to share with Laxdale, the
subaltern of No. 2 platoon.
Opening the door Wilmshurst promptly ducked his head to avoid a
sweeping blow with a knotted towel which his brother officer was
wielding desperately and frantically.
"Hullo!" exclaimed Laxdale breathlessly. "Come in and bear a hand.
Hope I didn't flick you."
"What's wrong?" enquired Dudley, eyeing with feelings of apprehension
the sight of the disordered cabin. "Looks as if a Hun four-point-one
had been at work here."
The "traps" of both subalterns were littering the floor in utmost
confusion. Sheets, blankets and mosquito nets had been torn from the
bunks, while a smashed water-bottle and glass bore testimony to the
erratic onslaught of the wildly excited Laxdale.
"Almost wish it had," exclaimed the harassed subaltern. "I was
unpacking my kit when a whopping big rat jumped out of this valise.
I'll swear that rascal of a servant of mine knows all about it. I had
to give him a dressing down yesterday for losing some of my gear.
We'll have to find the animal, Wilmshurst. A rat is my pet
abomination."
"Why not leave the door open?" suggested Dudley.
"An' let the bounder go scot-free?" added Laxdale, a gleam of grim
determination in his eyes. "No jolly fear. We'll lay him out
properly. Here you are, take this."
He handed Wilmshurst a towel roller made of teak, forming a heavy and
effective weapon.
"This is where I think the brute's hiding," continued Laxdale,
indicating a long drawer under the lowermost bunk. "I was stowing some
of my gear away when I spotted him. After five minutes' strafing he
disappeared, but goodness knows how he managed to get through that
little slit. Now stand by."
Entering into the spirit of the chase Dudley knelt down and waited with
poised stick while Laxdale charily opened the drawer. Like most
drawers on board ship and frequently elsewhere it jammed. By frantic
up and down movements the subaltern freed it. Then he waited, both
officers listening intently. Not a sound came from within.
"Don't suppose the brute's there after all. He must have effected a
strategic movement.... Look out, by Jove!"
Acting upon his impression Laxdale had tugged the drawer half open.
Instantly there was a vision of a dark object darting with
lightning-like rapidity.
Down came Wilmshurst's towel roller a fraction of a second too late for
Mister Rat. At the same time Laxdale moved his hands along the ledge
of the drawer and received the full force of the blow across the
knuckles.
"Sorry!" exclaimed Wilmshurst.
Laxdale, nursing the injured hand, made no audible comment.
Deliberately he relieved Dudley of the towel-roller, throwing his
companion the knotted towel in exchange.
"Where's the brute now?" he asked grimly.
A scuffling noise in a tin bath suspended from the cork-cemented roof
of the cabin betrayed the rodent's temporary hiding-place. Both men
looked first at the bath and then at each other.
"It would be as well if we put our helmets on," suggested Wilmshurst,
replacing his "double-pith" headgear. "Now, I'll shake the bath and
you let rip when he falls. But please don't try to get your own back
on me."
As a precautionary measure Dudley beat the side of the bath with the
towel. It might have been efficacious if the subaltern had been
engaging in apiarian operations, but as far as present events went it
was a "frost."
"Tilt it, old man," suggested Laxdale.
Wilmshurst carried out this suggestion only too well. The bath,
slipping from its supporting fixtures, clattered noisily to the floor,
its edge descending heavily upon Dudley's foot. Again a momentary
vision of the leaping rodent, then, crash! With a mighty sweep of the
tower-roller Laxdale demolished the electric-light globe into a
thousand fragments.
"Getting on," he remarked cheerfully. "There'll be a big bill for
'barrack damages' eh, what? Where's the brute?"
The rat, terrified by the din, had retired to a recess formed by the
bulkhead of the cabin and the fixed wash-basin and was acting strictly
on the defensive.
"Aha!" exclaimed Laxdale. "Now you're cornered. No use yelling
'Mercy, kamerad.'"
Levelling the roller like a billiard cue the subaltern prepared to make
a thrust and administer the _coup de grace_, but he had forgotten that
he had not yet found his sea-legs. A roll of the ship made him lose
his balance, and he pitched head foremost into the rodent's retreat.
Like a flash the rat leapt, scampered over Laxdale's helmet, down his
back and took refuge in the breast-pocket of Wilmshurst's tunic.
Dudley beat all records in slipping off his Sam Browne and discarding
the tunic, for by the time his companion had regained his feet the
garment lay on the floor.
"Stamp on it!" yelled the now thoroughly excited and exasperated
subaltern.
"It's my tunic, remember," protested Dudley firmly as he pushed his
brother-officer aside.
Just then the door opened, and Spofforth, another member of the "Lone
Star Crush" appeared, enquiring, "What's all the row about, you
fellows? Scrapping?"
"Shut that door!" exclaimed Laxdale hurriedly. "Either in or out, old
man."
The hunters suspended operations to wipe the streams of perspiration
from their faces and to explain matters.
"Ratting, eh?" queried Spofforth. "You fellows look like a pair of
Little Willies looting a French chateau."
"Hullo! More of 'em," murmured Laxdale as the door was unceremoniously
pushed open and another of the "One Pip" officers made his appearance.
"Look alive, Danvers, and don't stand there looking in the air. Walk
in and take a pew, if you can find one."
"I've come to borrow a glass," remarked the latest arrival. "Mine's
smashed and my batman hasn't unpacked my aluminium traps. Judging by
appearances, by Jove! I've drawn a blank. What's up--a toppin' rag,
or have the water pipes burst?"
Wilmshurst and Laxdale sat on the upper bunk, Spofforth on the closed
lid of the wash-basin stand, and Danvers found a temporary
resting-place on the none too rigid top of a cabin trunk. Each man
kept his feet carefully clear of the floor, while four pairs of eyes
were fixed upon Dudley's tunic, the folds of which were pulsating under
the violent lung-movements of the sheltering rodent.
"Why not shake the brute out?" suggested Danvers.
"You try it," suggested Laxdale, whose enthusiasm was decidedly on the
wane. "Wilmshurst here has turned mouldy. He refuses point blank to
let me use his raiment of neutral colour as a door-mat. I might add
that if you've ever had the experience of a particularly active member
of the rodent family scampering down your back you wouldn't be quite so
keen."
"How about turning out the machine-gun section?" asked Spofforth.
"Look here, if you fellows want to be ready for tiffen you'd better get
a move on. Suppose----"
"Still they come!" exclaimed Laxdale, as a knock sounded on the
jalousie of the cabin door. "Come in."
It was Tari Barl in search of his master.
"Tarry Barrel, you old sinner," said Wilmshurst, "can you catch a rat?"
"Me lib for find Mutton Chop, sah," replied the Haussa saluting. "Find
him one time and come quick."
Dudley looked enquiringly at his cabin-mate, knowing that Mutton Chop
was Laxdale's servant.
"Oh, so that rascal's the culprit," declared Laxdale. "Didn't I say I
thought so?"
"Bring Mutton Chop here," ordered Wilmshurst, addressing the broadly
smiling Tari Barl.
The Haussa vanished, presently to reappear with almost an exact
counterpart of himself. It would be a difficult matter for a stranger
to tell the difference between the two natives.
"What d'ye mean, you black scoundrel, by putting a rat into my traps?"
demanded Laxdale.
"No did put, sah; him lib for come one time," expostulated Laxdale's
servant. "Me play, 'Come to cook-house door,' den him catchee."
Producing a small native flute Mutton Chop began to play a soft air.
For perhaps thirty seconds every one and everything else was still in
the desolated cabin; then slowly but without any signs of furtiveness
the rat pushed his head between the folds of Wilmshurst's tunic,
sniffed, and finally emerged, sat up on his hind legs, his long
whiskers quivering with evident delight.
Then, with a deft movement, Mutton Chop's fingers closed gently round
the little animal, and to the astonishment of the four officers the
Haussa placed the rodent in his breast pocket.
"Me hab mascot same as officers, sahs!" he explained. "No put him
here, sah; me make tidy."
"And there's the officers' call!" exclaimed Dudley as a bugle rang out.
"Dash it all, how's a fellow to put on the thing?"
And he indicated the crumpled tunic.