Peter's birthday is soon after Xmas, too soon after for Peter's
taste--and mine.
"I want one or two good War Games," I said to the attendant at the
toymonger's. "What have you got?"
"Several, Sir," she said. "Here is one, 'The North Sea Battle.' Made
in London."
She opened a box containing realistic wooden models, in silhouette, of
two battleships, two cruisers and two destroyers correctly coloured; a
grey and grim-looking breech-loading gun with wooden projectiles, a
gun embrasure and a small rule labelled "one mile." Every ship carried
the White Ensign and my heart warmed to them at sight.
"Tell me the worst at once," I said, pulling out some loose silver.
"Two-and-eleven," she said.
"Sold in two places," I said; "I mean I'll have two of them without
reading the rules."
"Here," she said, fingering another box, "is the 'Siege of Berlin.'"
"Intelligent anticipation," I said, "at any rate."
"Quite so," she said, "Made in London, too, by the same people."
I liked the idea of besieging Berlin, and when the open box disclosed
a Rathhaus, churches, houses and other buildings, and a breach-loading
gun similar to the one last before mentioned, to demolish the
buildings with, I forked out another five-and-tenpence, and became the
possessor of two "Sieges of Berlin."
I despatched one "Siege" and one "North Sea Battle" to some Belgian
refugee children I know, and took the others home to Peter.
* * *
We tried the sea-fight first, Peter electing to play the part of Sir
JOHN JELLICOE. I took the gun behind the embrasure and tried to
prevent the ships from reaching my cardboard fastness by knocking them
over _en route_. I found that, every time I missed, the whole Fleet
was entitled to advance one mile--in reality about six inches--nearer
my fort. The ships were provided with rockers and came up smiling if
not squarely hit.
Long before my allowance of shot was expended, the British Fleet was
upon me, and I metaphorically hoisted the white flag.
"Come," I said, as Peter set up the Rathhaus and other buildings of
Berlin, "my heart is in this. How do we play?"
"Three shots each," said Peter, "and you score what's marked on the
back of each building you knock down. I'll go first."
Peter's first shot was a miss. With his second he brought down a house
which fell against a fort, knocking it over too. His third shot sailed
harmlessly over the town and landed in the fender.
"How many?" I said.
"Twenty," said Peter. "Not bad."
"Keep your eye on father," I said, training the gun on the Rathhaus. I
managed to conceal my surprise when the building fell at the first
attempt.
"I shall knock you endways," I said.
The second shot hit the fallen Rathhaus, so I shifted the muzzle of
the gun a little to the left. The buildings seemed well bunched
together at this point.
It was a magnificent shot; the projectile skimmed past the church
steeple as well-regulated shells should do, without damaging it, and
swept away two buildings immediately behind it.
"That's some shooting," I said. "How many am I?"
"Nothing," said Peter.
"Look here, young man," I said, "explain yourself. First the
Rathhaus."
"That's five," said Peter, "because it's so big and easy to hit."