Quits!
"Take these men to the sick-bay," ordered the officer of the watch;
"they both look pretty well knocked up. Semaphore the convoy and
report that the men have been picked up. We'll see what's to be done
with them later on."
After divisions the Commander reported the circumstances to the
Captain. The latter, being a chartered humorist, signalled No. 99 to
the effect that when boat-lowering practice was again resorted to it
would be advisable to provide ring-bolts and securing lashings to
prevent the soldiers falling overboard; meanwhile he would make sure
of the two he _had_ picked up by keeping them on board the _Gosport_
until her arrival at Port Stanley with the transport under her
charge.
Thus Sergeant Malcolm Carr found himself an honorary member of the
C.P.O.'s mess on board the _Gosport_, one of the earlier type of
"town" cruisers detailed for convoying duties in the South Pacific.
Malcolm thoroughly enjoyed the novelty of being on board a war-ship.
What struck him most was the good order and discipline that
prevailed; everything was "carried out at the double", yet there was
a total absence of unnecessary noise. Compared with the somewhat
boisterous conditions obtaining on board Transport 99, the _Gosport_
was a floating model of smartness and efficiency.
"Do you know anything about a kangaroo, Sergeant?" enquired a burly
armourer's mate.
It was Thursday--"make and mend" afternoon. The ship's company was
allowed a period of comparative relaxation. Being fine weather, most
of the "I watch below" were on deck, sunning themselves upon the
raised fo'c'sle.
"A kangaroo?" repeated Malcolm cautiously, half suspecting that the
man was trying to "pull his leg".
"Yes," replied the other, a proper kangaroo. "You ought to know a
lot about them, since they come from down your way."
"I'm afraid you are mistaken," said Carr. "I have seen kangaroos in
New Zealand, but they were looked upon as animal curiosities. Why do
you ask?"
"We've got a kangaroo for a ship's mascot. Had it given us when we
were coaling ship at Sydney. The brute is pining. He won't tackle
ship's beef or condensed milk. His hay ration's expended, but the
cook's keeping him going on biscuit mashed in 'bubbly'. Some of the
men suggested cocoa as a change of diet. We thought perhaps, seeing
that you were an Anzac, that you Could tell us what's the correct
grub for the brute."
"It's want of exercise that's put Panjie off 'is feed, Bill,"
interposed a leading signalman. "That's what's done it."
"Maybe you're right," was the armourer's mate's grudging concession.
"And if," continued the "bunting-tosser", carried away by his
brilliant brain-wave, "Panjie was to fall in with the
physical-exercise party, an' skip round the ship 'arf a dozen times
afore breakfast, I'll allow he'd scoff his 'ard tack without a
murmur."
In the course of the afternoon a request was forwarded to the
Commander that the kangaroo should be allowed on deck for exercise.
The paper, marked "Approved, provided due precautions are taken",
was returned to the members of the "Mascot Committee".
Without further delay preparations were made for the kangaroo's
course of physical exercise. A space between two of the casemate
guns of the starboard side was barricaded off, the officers'
practice nets having been loaned for the event.
Practically all the ship's company crowded round to witness the
show. Every coign of vantage was packed with interested lower-deck
humanity, while from both the fore and after bridges the officers
forgathered to watch the performance.
Panjie's cage, carried by half a dozen lusty blue-jackets, was
deposited in close proximity to the only opening left in the
extensive corral. Not since the eventful day when the _Gosport's_
barbers close-clipped Bingo, the monkey, had such interest been
shown in any unofficial incident. Bingo was Panjie's predecessor, a
large Madagascar ape. Curiosity concerning a barrel of coal-tar led
to Bingo's undoing. Cropping, and afterwards washing the animal with
grease and paraffin, were the only remedies, and but temporary; for,
shorn of its warm fur, the monkey caught pneumonia and succumbed.
Heralded by the chief keeper, a corporal of Red Marines, the
kangaroo leapt lightly into the arena in an attitude reminiscent of
a light-weight boxer. It was a half-grown animal of about four feet
six inches in height. Apparently indifferent to the grant of limited
freedom, it ambled to a recess formed by the side of the casemate
and the raised coaming of a closed ammunition-hoist.
"Put a pair of boxing-gloves on him, Paddy," shouted one of the
Corporal's shipmates. "Take him on for half a dozen rounds under the
Marquis of Queensberry's rules."
"Enter him for the high jump," vociferated another.
"Take 'im on 'catch as catch can'," suggested a third.
To all these suggestions the marine turned a deaf ear. He had his
own idea of the correct method of exercising the animal and at the
same time contributing to his comrades' enjoyment.
"Now then, you concertina boys, give us a two-step," he called out.
"Come on, my lady, let's see if I can span your slender waist."
Either the kangaroo objected to the marine's mistake in the matter
of gender or else he was disinclined to be forced to perform, for,
as the Corporal grasped the animal's short fore paws, Panjie let rip
with one of his powerful hind legs. The kangaroo might have been off
his feed, but his muscular powers seemed in no way impaired. The
sharp claws, missing the man's face by a mere inch, sliced his
forage jacket and trousers from shoulder to knee.
At the possibility of a scrap the ship's company cheered, some
yelling encouragement to the kangaroo, others backing the
representative of His Majesty's jollies.
The outburst of sound terrified the animal. With a stupendous bound
Panjie leapt at the netting, ripping his way through as easily as a
pantomime clown jumps through a paper hoop. Over the heads and
shoulders of a tightly-packed throng of bluejackets the brute
vaulted; then, viewing a comparatively clear space, it bounded
towards the sacred precincts of the quarter-deck.
Here the Fleet-paymaster and the Engineer-commander, who were
keeping aloof from the revels, were engaged in a strictly official
conversation. Like a dart Panjie dived betwixt the bowed legs of the
accountant officer, and, in blind desperation, butted the senior
officer of the engineering branch full in the chest. Then with a
terrific leap the kangaroo cleared the rail and disappeared
overboard.
There was a rush to the side. Some of the men hastened to man the
sea-boat, but the upheld hand of the Commander indicated that they
were to "stand fast".
The sea was like glass. The usual Pacific roll was entirely absent.
A quarter of a mile on the starboard quarter the _Awarua_ was
resolutely plugging along at 10 knots.
Bobbing in the wake of the cruiser was a darkbrown object. It was
Panjie. The animal had escaped the suction of the propellers, but
the fall from a vessel pelting along at 20 knots had evidently
stunned it. At all events it made no effort to swim.
No order was given for the _Gosport_ to reverse engines or even to
slow down. She merely "carried on" describing a vast circle round
the slow-moving Transport 99.
"By Jove, sir!" exclaimed the Commander, addressing the Captain.
"The _Awarua's_ starboarding helm."
"She is," admitted the Skipper grimly. "We've played into her hands
this time, I fancy."
The "owner's" surmise was correct. Lining the side of the transport
were hundreds of troops. Some of them, and several of the _Awarua's_
crew, had provided themselves with running bowlines, and as the
unfortunate Panjie drifted close to the ship he was saluted with a
shower of lassos.
"They've hooked him, sir!" reported the Commander as the kangaroo's
limp body, firmly encircled with three or four bowlines, was
unceremoniously hauled on board the transport.
"By the powers they have," agreed the Skipper bitterly, and
straightway he left the bridge and went below.
Five minutes later the _Awarua's_ semaphore began working rapidly.
On the _Gosport's_ bridge a barefooted signalman wrote down the
message on a pad. He was unable to conceal a broad grin as he handed
the signal to the Commander.
No need for the latter to read the writing. He, in common with
nearly all the officers and crew, had read the semaphore verbatim.
With the utmost temerity the skipper of the _Awarua_ had sent the
following report:--
"One of your crew has been picked up by Transport 99. In view of the
heavy sea now running" (_it was a flat calm a regular "Paddy's
hurricane"_) "I propose retaining the said member, in order to avoid
a repetition of the accident. Do you concur?"
The message was sent to the captain of the cruiser. Sportsmanlike
the skipper accepted the sarcastic signal with a good grace.
Back came the answer: "Now we are quits! Congratulations!"