The Interrupted Concert
Transport 99, otherwise the S.S. _Awarua_, was a single-screw vessel
of 8000 tons. Originally a combined passenger and cargo boat, she
had been ruthlessly converted into a troop-conveying ship, and the
internal rearrangements were not by any means suitable for her new
rôle. Nevertheless, after the first few days, when many of the men
were prostrate with sea-sickness, the troops soon accustomed
themselves to their new conditions, and settled down with the fixed
determination to make the voyage a sort of maritime picnic.
"Say, Quarter," began Fortescue, addressing the
Quartermaster-sergeant, "how about a sing-song on the mess deck this
evening? Most of the boys have found their sea-legs, and there's no
lack of talent."
"Good idea!" replied the Q.M.S. "We'll form ourselves into an
entertainment committee. Let me see: there's Sergeant Thomson, he's
a bit of a vocalist."
"Unfortunately he shot his false teeth over the side last night,"
reported Malcolm. "He was so jolly bad that he never realized his
loss till this morning. He's out of it, I fancy."
"We'll put him down anyway," declared Fortescue. "There's M'Kie and
Macdonald: they'll open with a duet on the bagpipes."
Other names were submitted and approved, not-withstanding the fact
that their owners were not consulted on the matter.
"How about the officers?" enquired Selwyn. "They are to be invited,
I suppose?"
"Rather," replied Fortescue. "By the way, what has Lieutenant
Nicholson been doing to get his left optic in a sling? He wasn't
looking skywards out of one of the ports when Thomson jettisoned his
ivories?"
"Dunno," replied the M. S. "He was all right when he went the rounds
last night."
"I know," chipped in another N.C.O. "It was the Padre."
"The Padre!" exclaimed half a dozen voices. "Our Padre been
scrapping?"
"Hardly!" was the reply. "He shares a two-bunk berth with the
Lieutenant. Padre has, or had, the upper bunk, and he tops the scale
at sixteen stone. I don't insinuate, mind you, that any of the
fellows tampered with the ironwork, but all the same the bunk
collapsed, and our Padre subsided heavily upon poor little
Nicholson."
"We'll get the company poet to write up a special stanza and recite
it at the concert," declared Fortescue. "Sort of object lesson on
the way our Padre tackles sin."
The men, remembering that the Lieutenant's initials were S.I.N.,
laughed uproariously. These impromptu concerts gave them poetic
licence to joke at the expense of their officers. The latter, too,
were quite used to that sort of thing. In fact they enjoyed it. Even
the popular Padre found these entertainments a welcome antidote to
the dull business of censoring letters.
The concert--as far as it went--was a huge success. According to
_The Deep Sea Roll_, the Thirty-somethingth's magazine, the opening
items and the honorary reporter's notes were as follows:--
"A duet by the brothers Mac. I thought they would never finish, due
mainly to Macdonald, who had his Scotch blood up and his bagpipes in
good wind."
"Sergeant Thomson next stepped into the ring and gave 'Thora' a slap
up. It was a pity he lost his teeth, but, thank goodness, he has not
lost his voice."
"Tiny Anderson's voice was like his size--tremendous. 'Asleep in the
Deep' was his song. I thought he _was_ asleep at one part of it."
There was no lack of enthusiasm on the part of the audience. The
men, packed like sardines in a barrel, filled the mess-deck almost
to suffocation, their boisterous applause increasing in volume as
item succeeded item in quick succession.
"Item seven--Cornet Competition," announced Sergeant Fortescue.
"Sisters Howard and O'Dowd have kindly consented to act as judges."
Prolonged sounds of cheering greeted the two Red Cross nurses as
they stepped upon the platform with marked timidity. They would
perhaps--and did--unhesitatingly and calmly assist the medical
officers in their work of mercy and within range of hostile shells,
but their present task was an ordeal.
Four strapping young fellows, each armed with a highly-polished
cornet, appeared and stood facing their critical audience, receiving
their caustic comments with a studied indifference.
"Rifleman Gilway."
Rifleman Gilway advanced two paces, lifted the instrument to his
lips, and distended his cheeks. Beyond an eerie gurgle ("the last
gasp of a dying flounder", according to the above-quoted honorary
reporter) not a sound came from the cornet. The audience, rocking
with laughter, threw shouts of encouragement and advice to the
would-be musician, but all in vain. Rifleman Gilway's eyes were
riveted upon the half of a cut, juicy lemon displayed within six
inches of his face by a waggish subaltern. The sight of the acid
fruit effectually prevented the man getting a single note out of the
instrument. He puffed and blew like a grampus, the tears ran down
his distended cheeks, and the perspiration oozed from his forehead,
till in disgust he retired from the contest.
Cornet No. 2 shared the same fate, after a gallant struggle. By this
time the audience was almost silent. The men could laugh no longer.
They were almost on the verge of hysterical tears of excessive
merriment.
The third competitor withdrew without an effort, but the fourth was
something of a strategist. He used his music-card as a screen to
shut out the sight of the tantalizing lemon. By so doing he had to
lean forward slightly. His cheeks were bulging, but again
silence--mysterious silence.
Compared with Rifleman Gilway's efforts those Of Corporal Jephson
were simply terrific. His whole frame shook under the tremendous
force of lung power. The doctor began to shift uneasily in his
chair, anticipating a case of apoplexy. Jephson's face gradually
changed in colour fro light bronze to a deep purple. Something had
to go----
Something did! From the interior of the instrument a wad of paper
was ejected with the velocity of a stone from a catapult. In its
wake followed, a compact mass of viscous substance. Both struck the
waggish subaltern full in the face, and then the nature of the "main
charge" became apparent. It was treacle. A practical joker had
primed Jephson's cornet with the sticky stuff, plugging it with a
wad. Amidst renewed outbursts of cheering the subaltern retired for
repairs and renewals, while the lady judges were fortunately spared
the task of bestowing the palm upon the cornet champion of the
Thirty-somethingths.
More songs followed, then a series of recitations bearing upon
incidents and characters on board Transport No. 99. Many of the
references were pointedly personal; the victims enjoyed them as much
as anyone, for it is difficult to raise a New Zealander's "dander"
by means of a practical joke. And when the reciter commenced a
string of verses portraying the catastrophe in the cabin shared by
Lieutenant Nicholson and the Padre, the former's "Hear, hear!" and
the latter's deep bass laugh were heard above the roars of hilarity.
The composer of the verses had turned the accident into a work of
intent on the Padre's part, representing the latter combating the
evil influence of sin. The reciter began with slight hesitation;
then, finding that he was receiving unstinted approval, he warmed up
to his task.
"Sin turned in, and soon was heard the music of his snore,
And then the Padre set to work as none had worked before.
He got a large belaying-pin, he got the vessel's lead,
And everything that weighed at all he piled upon the bed.
He took the screws out, one by one, that held the fixing frail,
Till all that stood 'twixt him and Sin was but a single nail.
Then with a fierce look in his eye, as one who thirsts for blood,
He hurled his weight upon the bunk--there came a sickening thud----"
Crash!
The old _Awarua_ shook under the terrific impact of an unseen force,
listed to starboard, and then slowly recovered, to heel to port.
Simultaneously every electric light on the ship was extinguished,
while above the noise of escaping steam arose the babel of hundreds
of voices as the swarm of humanity slithered in a struggling mass
along the sloping floor of the mess deck.
"Torpedoed, by Jupiter!" shouted a voice. The ominous words were
taken up by others, and in the darkness an ugly rush was made for
the upper deck.