"The King!" murmured the Mess, with faces grown suddenly decorous and
grave. At that moment the Corporal of the Watch entered; he glanced down
the table, and approaching the Junior Watch-keeper's chair saluted and
said something in an undertone. The Junior Watch-keeper nodded, finished
his port, and rose, folding his napkin. His neighbour, the Engineer
Lieutenant, leaned back in his chair, speaking over his shoulder--
"Your First Watch, James?"
The other nodded.
"Then," with mock solemnity, "may I remind you that our lives are in
your hands till twelve o'clock? Don't forget that, will you?"
The Junior Watch-keeper laughed. "I'll bear it in mind." At the
doorway he turned with a smile: "It won't be the first time your
valuable life has been there."
"Or the last, we'll hope."
"We'll hope not, Shortie."
The buzz of talk and chaff had again begun to ebb and flow round the
long table. The First Lieutenant lit a cigarette and began collecting
napkin-rings, placing them eventually in a row, after the manner of
horses at the starting-post. "Seven to one on the field, bar
one--Chief, your ring's disqualified. It would go through the ship's
side. Now, wait for the next roll--stand by! Clear that flower-pot----"
"Disqualified be blowed! Why, I turned it myself when I was a student,
out of a bit of brass I stole----"
"Can't help that; it weighs a ton--scratched at the post!"