THE COCKED HAT
TO say that Lieutenant Douglas Drake was flabbergasted would not do
justice to the state of his mind. In the very hour of his triumph,
when the credit of recapturing the stolen cruiser seemed absolutely
assured, the fruits of victory were snatched from his grasp by a
midshipman. It was humiliating, but Drake was a true sportsman, and,
stifling his feelings of disappointment, was genuinely hearty in his
congratulations to his junior.
"Where's Fielding?" he asked, as soon as Cardyke had briefly
explained the situation.
"Down below. He's had a nasty time of it, sir; but he's doing
wonderfully well."
"I'll go and see him. By the bye, we knocked over a couple of fellows
just now. Who were they?"
"A couple of watchmen from the tug _Hekla_," replied the mid. "It's
rough luck on them. I stationed them to keep an eye on the prisoners.
They can't speak English, so they're wondering what has happened?"
"I'll see that they are released," replied Drake. "Now I'll go below
and pay Fielding a visit. I mustn't stop long, or the _Cerberus_ will
be getting anxious. We'll report you by wireless, and stand by till
daybreak, if you wish."
"Aren't you taking command, sir?" asked Cardyke.
"Taking command? Why, no, my boy; you've done excellently up to the
present. This is your business, and you rightly deserve the credit. I
envy you, Cardyke; 'pon my word I do."
"Better take command, sir," replied the midshipman, wearily. "I've
only had three hours' sleep the last forty-eight hours, and there's
only enough fuel to last a day and a half. If it weren't for you
turning up we'd soon have been in an awkward fix."
"All right, then, Mr. Cardyke," assented Drake. "I'll relieve you at
your request. Mr. Domer," he continued, addressing the senior, "will
you please take sufficient hands to man the boats, and return to the
_Cerberus_? I am keeping the rest of the men on board the
_Impregnable_. I will hand you a written report for Captain Dexter
before we part company."
* * * * *
When Cardyke turned out after a solid sixteen hours' sleep he found
that the _Impregnable_, once more under the White Ensign, was in tow
of the _Cerberus_, en route for Halifax. The trials and tribulations
of Juan Cervillo's hostages were over. Already the momentous news of
the fate of the notorious pirate and the recapture of the terror of
the Atlantic had been flashed abroad, and once again peaceful
merchantmen might pursue their way without an ever-present fear of
capture by a daring and unscrupulous modern buccaneer.
* * * * *
Two months later the long-postponed dinner given by the Fifth
Division to their successful rivals of the Sixth took place at a
popular Portsmouth hotel.
Lieutenant Player was amongst the first to arrive.
"Well, you fellows," he exclaimed, as he laid a cocked-hat case on a
chair. "Drake's not turned up yet?"
"No," replied Cosham, of the Kestrel. "Going on with the business,
Player? It's rubbing it in a bit thick, isn't it?"
"I don't know about that," replied Player. "This has nothing to do
with Drake's disappointment. If it had I for one would not take a
rise out of him."
"He's taking it very well," remarked Cosham. "Blessed if I can quite
understand it--and a fellow with influence behind him, too."
"He deserves promotion in any case, influence or no influence,"'
added Peel. "Fielding's promoted--lucky beggar--and has been
specially commended for gallantry. Young Cardyke is made sub., and
Drake gets nothing. I really don't think we ought to----"
"Good evening!" exclaimed Thompson, putting his head inside the door.
"Heard the news? Of course you haven't."
"Fire away!" replied the group of officers.
"Drake's away on leave. Coming in by motor for this little function.
He told me to open any wires, and forward any letters that might be
sent to him. Acting under instructions I opened a telegram, and what
do you think it was?"
"Can't say," replied Player. "Has he scratched for to-night?"
"No. A wire from young Tregarthen--he's at the Admiralty, you know.
The secretary told him that Drake is appointed commander, and
receives the D.S.O."
"Good luck to him!"
"Now you can carry on with your little joke, Player," said Thompson.
"I will. But, I say, Drake will see his promotion in the evening
paper. Can't we prevent him, and spring it as a surprise?"
"You'll have to look pretty sharp. Let the others know, and give them
the tip. Here's Fielding."
Lieutenant Fielding, who had practically recovered from his wound,
came up at this moment, followed by his shipmate, Sub-Lieutenant
Cardyke. Both were cordially greeted, for this was the first
opportunity the majority of the officers present had to welcome their
comrades on their return to England.
"I am glad to hear the news about Drake--I thought he was being
treated a bit shabbily. If it hadn't been for him we shouldn't have
had a leg-up," said Fielding, when Thompson informed him of his
chief's promotion.
"Stand by, here's Drake," exclaimed someone.
Drake was low-spirited. The iron of disappointment had eaten into his
soul. But with praiseworthy self-restraint he concealed his feelings.
It seemed hard that with the opportunities offered him he should have
failed to make his mark, and doubly hard that his subordinates should
be signalled out for promotion, while he, as far as he knew, was
slightingly passed over. Nevertheless he offered his sincere
congratulations to Fielding and Cardyke. He was not a man to repine
when others deserved and received advancement.
At length the company sat down. Amongst the guests were General Oki,
and Hokosuka, and Mukyima, who had purposely journeyed down from
London for the festive occasion; and the Japanese, who had played
such a prominent part in the unlawful commission of the
_Impregnable_, came in for no small share of attention.
After the customary toasts had been duly honoured, the head waiter
appeared bearing a covered silver dish. A tense silence fell upon the
jovial company. Those who knew what was about to happen seemed to
exercise a magnetic influence over those who did not.
Then the string band burst forth into the strains of an old popular
refrain, "Where did you get that hat?"
Simultaneously the waiter whisked off the cover, and on the dish
reposed a naval officer's cocked hat.
A roar of hearty laughter greeted its appearance. Thompson, Fielding,
Cardyke, and one or two others looked grave, wondering how Drake
would take it; but to their relief the victim of the practical joke,
flushing slightly under his bronzed skin, rose to his feet, and, with
a reassuring smile, raised his hand to command silence.
"Gentlemen," he began, "I will not attempt a speech. If I did I
should say what I didn't mean to say, and leave unsaid what I meant
to say. But I see you have not forgotten to remind me of that little
failing of mine on the occasion of the match which this gathering is
celebrating in its customary manner. It will not be said that a Drake
is not a man of his word. I promised to eat my hat; I will do so.
Will you kindly pass the article round to show that there is no
deception?"
The practical jokers began to look unduly anxious. They never
expected Drake would have taken the matter so calmly. Perhaps he had
been warned, and had prepared a counter-plot? He had. Producing a
small parcel, Drake cut the string, and unwrapped the paper. Within
was a small replica of a lieutenant's cocked hat, faithfully executed
in confectionery. Inside were written the words, "My hat!"
Having passed the edible model round for inspection, Drake, amid the
applause of his comrades, gravely proceeded to eat it.
As soon as Drake had completed his meal, Thompson stood up.
"Gentlemen!" he exclaimed. "I think it only right that we should
signify our satisfaction at the way in which a Drake keeps his word,
by giving him a little certificate of his--er--his conduct. Allow me,
sir, to present you with this."
And leaning over the table Thompson handed the newly appointed
commander the momentous telegram.
Drake took it, hesitatingly, as if suspecting another joke at his
expense, looked at it casually, then again intently.
He tried to speak, but no words came from his agitated lips. He sat
down.
"Gentlemen!" shouted Thompson, in stentorian zones. "A toast:
Commander Douglas Drake, D.S.O., and the heroes of 'The Stolen
Cruiser.'"
THE END
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THE STOLEN CRUISER. By PERCY F. WESTERMAN
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--------
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{Transcriber's Notes:
The following misprint has been corrected:
{The shock of the collison} -> {The shock of the collision}
Obvious punctuation/spelling errors were corrected without note.
}
End of Project Gutenberg's The Stolen Cruiser, by Percy F. Westerman