The really intriguing thing about Naval prize-money is the fact that
no one knows exactly where it comes from. You don't win it by any
definite act of superlative daring--I mean to say, you don't have to
creep out under cover of darkness and return in the morning with an
enemy battleship in tow to qualify for a modicum of this mysterious
treasure. You just proceed serenely on your lawful occasions,
confident in the knowledge that incredible sums of prize-money
are piling themselves up for your ultimate benefit. I suppose the
authorities understand all about it; nobody else does. One just lets
it pile. It is a most gratifying thought.
During the more or less stormy times of the First Great War, we of the
Navy were always able to buttress our resolution with golden hopes
of a future opulence denied to our less fortunate comrades in the
trenches. Whenever the struggle was going particularly badly
for us--when, for instance, a well-earned shore-leave had been
unexpectedly jammed or a tin of condensed milk had overturned into
somebody's sea-boot--we used to console each other with cheerful
reminders of this accumulating fruit of our endeavours. "Think of the
prize-money, my boy," we used to exclaim; "meditate upon the jingling
millions that will be yours when the dreary vigil is ended;" and as
by magic the unseemly mutterings of wrath would give place to purrs
of pleasurable anticipation. Even we of the R.N.V.R., mere temporary
face-fringes, as it were, which the razor of peace was soon to remove
from the war-time visage of the Service--even we fell under the spell.
"Fourteen million pounds!" we would gurgle, hugging ourselves with joy
in the darkness of the night-watches.
In the months immediately following demobilisation I was frequently
stimulated by glittering visions of vast wealth presently to be
showered upon me from the swelling coffers of a grateful Admiralty.
During periods of more or less temporary financial embarrassment
I would mention these expectations to my tailor and other restless
tradespeople of my acquaintance. "Fourteen millions--prize-money, you
know," I would say confidentially; "may come in at any time now." I
found this had a soothing effect upon them.
As the seasons rolled by, however; as summer and winter ran their
appointed courses and again the primrose pranked the lea unaccompanied
by any signs of vernal activity on the part of the Paymaster-in-Chief,
these visions of mine became less insistent. I was at length obliged
to confess that another youthful illusion was fading; prize-money
began to take its place in my mind along with the sea-serpent and
similar figures of marine mythology. I was frankly hurt; I ceased even
to raise my hat when passing the Admiralty Offices on the top of a
bus.
That was a month or two ago; everything is all right again now. I once
more experience the old pleasing thrill of emotion when riding down
Whitehall. I have come to see how ungracious my recent attitude was.
A chance meeting with Bunbury, late sub-Loot R.N.V.R. and a sometime
shipmate of mine--Bunbury and I had squandered our valour recklessly
together aboard the Tyne drifters in the great days when Bellona wore
bell-bottoms--sufficed to bring me head-to-wind.
In the course of conversation I referred to the non-fulfilment of our
early dreams; I spoke rather bitterly.
"And there are fourteen millions somewhere belonging to us," I
concluded mutinously.
Bunbury regarded me with pained surprise. "Really, old sea-dog," he
said, "this won't do. Never let the engine-oil of discontent leak into
the rum-cask of loyal memories, you know. Now listen to me. Two years
ago you and I wore the wavy gold braid of a valiant life; we surged
along irresistibly in the wake of NELSON; we kept the watch assigned.
Does not your bosom very nearly burst with pride to call those days to
mind? It does. What then? Has it never once occurred to you that the
last remaining link between us and the stirring past is this very
prize-money you are so eager to soil with the grimy clutch of avarice?
Don't you realize that this alone exists to keep our memory green in
the minds of our old leaders at Whitehall? Picture the scene as it is.
Someone mentions the word 'prize-money.' Immediately the Lords of
the Admiralty reach for their record files and begin turning over
the pages. They come upon the names of John Augustus Plimsoll--
yourself--and Horatio Bunbury--me. 'Ah,' they exclaim fondly, 'two of
our old gunroom veterans--when shall we look upon their like again?'
Then they get up and go out to lunch.
"A month or so later the same thing occurs; once more our names leap
out from the type-written page. 'Brave boys,' they murmur, 'gallant
lads! What should we have done without them in the dark days? They
shall have their prize-money this very--why, bless my soul, if it
isn't one o'clock!'
"Surely," pursued Bunbury earnestly, "you appreciate the fine
sentimental value of this one last tie? As long as our prize-money is
in the keeping of the Service we can still think of it with intimate
regard; we can still call ourselves BEATTY'S boys and hide our blushes
when the people sing 'Rule, Britannia.' You must see that this is the
only large-hearted way of looking at the matter."
"Bunbury, old sailor," I said, swallowing a lump in my throat, "you
have done me good; you have made me feel ashamed of myself."
* * * * *
There can be no doubt that Bunbury is right. I am so convinced of it
that when next my tailor inquires anxiously what steps are being taken
for the distribution of prize-money I shall put the matter to him just
as Bunbury put it to me. He is certain to understand.
* * * * *
=Commercial Candour.=
"The newest fashions are now being displayed in ----'s new
dress salons, so that it is an easy matter to select an entire
winter outfit with the minimum of ease."--_Evening Paper_.
* * * * *
"Sir Harry Johnston's 'The Gay Donkeys' has passed its fifth
edition in London."--_Australian Magazine_.
A clear case for the S.P.C.A. (Society for the Prevention of Cruelty
to Authors).
* * * * *
[Illustration: ENCOURAGE HOME INDUSTRIES.
LORD ROBERT CECIL. "I TRUST THAT AFTER ALL WE MAY SECURE AT LEAST YOUR
QUALIFIED SUPPORT FOR OUR LEAGUE OF NATIONS?"