"That's right! And our Torps in attendance with smelling salts....
Condemned man suffered Billington to pinion him without Resistance----"
The bridegroom sat up, searching for a missile. "Look here, for
goodness' sake.... That 'Condemned man' business 's been done before.
All the people who tell funny stories about fellows being married----"
"Tut, tut! Tuts in two places! A pretty business, forsooth! Sense of
humour going. Beginning of the end. Fractious. Tongue furred, for all
we know.... Where's the Young Doc.? I suggest a thorough medical
examination before it's too late----" Another face appeared grinning in
the doorway. "Why, here he is! Doc., don't you think a stringent
medical examination----"
The Gunnery Lieutenant crawled reluctantly out of his bunk. "You two
needn't come scrapping in here. I'm going to shave, and I don't want to
cut my face off!"
The visitors helped themselves to cigarettes. "We don't want to scrap:
we want to see you shave, Guns. Watch him lathering himself with aspen
hand!" They explored the cardboard-boxes and parcels that littered all
available space. "Did you ever see such prodigal generosity as the
man's friends display! Toast-rack--no home complete without
one--Card-case!"--they probed among the tissue wrappings. "Case of
pipes.... Handsome ormulu timepiece, suitably inscribed. My Ghost!
Guns--almost thou persuadest me ..."
"Yes, those things came last night: people are awfully kind----"
The Torpedo Lieutenant intervened. "Come on, give him a chance--I'll
never get him dressed with you two messing about."
The Gunnery Lieutenant grinned above the lather at his reflection in the
mirror. "D'you hear that! That's the way he's been going on ever since
I woke up. One would think I had G.P.I.!" The visitors prepared to
depart. "You have my profound sympathy, Torps," said the Surgeon. "I
was Best Man to a fellow once--faith, I kept him under morphia till it
was all over. He was practically no trouble."
"Now I'm going to get my bath," said the Torpedo Lieutenant when the
well-wishers had taken their departure. "Shove on any old clothes:
we'll send your full-dress up to the hotel, and your boxes to the house;
and you needn't worry your old head about anything."
Torps left the cabin; there was a tap at the door and a private of
Marines entered, surveying the Gunnery Lieutenant with affectionate
regard. "I just come in to see if we was turnin' out, sir. Razor all
right? Better 'ave a 'ot bath this mornin', sir!" His master's
unaccountable predilection for immersing his body in cold water every
morning was a custom that not even twelve years of familiarity had
robbed of its awfulness. "I strip right down an' 'ad a bath meself,
sir, mornin' I was spliced," he admitted, as one who condones generously
an inexplicable weakness, "but it were a 'ot one. You'd best 'ave it
'ot, sir!"
His master laughed. "No, thanks, Phillips; it's all right as it is.
Will you be up at the house this afternoon and lend a hand, after the
ceremony?"
The Private of Marines nodded sorrowfully. "I understands, sir. I bin
married meself--I knows all the routine, as you might say." He departed
with a sigh that left a faint reminiscence of rum in the morning air,
and the Gunnery Lieutenant proceeded with his toilet, humming a little
tune under his breath. Half an hour later he entered the Wardroom clad
in comfortable grey flannels and an old shooting-coat. The Mess,
breakfasting, received him with a queer mixture of chaff and solicitude.
The First Lieutenant grinned over a boiled egg: "Guns, sorry I couldn't
get back earlier to relieve you, but 'urgent private affairs,' you
know."
"All right, Number One! As long as you got back before two o'clock this
afternoon, that's all I cared about." He helped himself to bacon and
poured out a cup of coffee.
"Marvellous!" The Indiarubber Man opposite feigned breathless interest
in his actions, and murmured something into his cup about condemned men
partaking of hearty breakfasts.
"Come on, that's enough of the 'Condemned man'! You'd better find out
something about a Groomsman's duties," said the Best Man, coming to the
rescue of his principal.
"Am I a Groomsman? So I am--I'd forgotten. What do I do? Show people
to their seats: 'this way please, madam, second shop through on the
right.' ... Have you any rich aunts, Guns? 'Pon my word, I might get
off this afternoon--you never know. 'Every nice girl loves a
sailor....' Which of the lucky bridesmaids falls to my lot? Do I kiss
the bride...?"
"You try it on," retorted the prospective husband grimly.'
"Can't I kiss anybody," inquired the Indiarubber Man plaintively.
"Not if they see you coming, I shouldn't think," cut in the Paymaster
from behind his paper.
"Then the head waiter and I will retire behind a screen and get quietly
drunk--I don't suppose anybody will want to kiss him either: they never
do, somehow. We shall drift together, blighted misogamists...."
The Engineer Commander glowered at the speaker. "Suppose ye reserve a
little of this unpar-r-ralleled wit----"
"I will, Chief--beg pardon. But there's something about a wedding
morning--don't you know? Screams-of-fun-and-roars-of-laughter sort of
atmosphere." He looked round the silent table. "Now I've annoyed
everybody. Ah, me! What it is to have to live with mouldy messmates,
..." and the Indiarubber Man drifted away to the smoking-room.
"He ought to keep your little show from getting dull this afternoon,"
said the First Lieutenant.
The Gunnery Lieutenant laughed. "Yes, it's pleasant to find some one
who does regard it as a joke. The only trouble is that his bridesmaid
is my young sister, a flapper from school, and I know he'll make her
giggle in the middle of the service. She doesn't want much
encouragement at any time." The speaker finished a leisurely breakfast
and filled his pipe.
"Now then, Torps, I'm ready for you and your nine holes...."
*II.*
The Gunnery Lieutenant sat down and began laboriously dragging on his
Wellington boots. His Best Man stood in front of the glass adjusting
the medals on the breast of his full-dress coat. This concluded to his
satisfaction, he picked up a prayer-book from the dressing-table--
"Now, then, Guns, a 'dummy-run,'" and read; "N. Wilt thou have this
woman----"
"Why 'N'?" objected the prospective bridegroom.
"Dunno, It says 'N' here."
"I've never heard a parson say 'N,'" ventured the other, "but it's years
since I saw a wedding--chuck me my braces--Well, go on." The Best Man
continued.
"I know that part. That's the 'I will' business,--by the way, where's
the ring? Don't, for Heaven's sake, let it out of your sight--are my
trousers hitched up too high...?"
"No, they're all right. Then you say: 'I, N, take thee, N----'"
"More N's. We can't both be N--must be a misprint...." He seized the
book. "Have I got to learn all that by heart? Why don't they have a
Short Course at Greenwich, or Whaley, or somewhere, about these things.
"I, 'N,' take thee, 'N'"--he began reading the words feverishly.
"No--that's all right. You repeat it after the parson. And you say,
'I, John Willie,' or whatever your various names might be, 'take thee,
Millicent'--d'you see? Here, let me fix that epaulette."
"Give me a cigarette, for Heaven's sake." He hurriedly scanned the
pages. "Ass I was to leave it so late.... What awful things they talk
about.... Why didn't I insist on a Registry Office? Or can't you get
married over a pair of tongs somewhere--what religion's that?"
"Don't know--Gretna Green, or something. It's too late now. Do stand
still.... Right! Where's your sword.... Gloves?" He stepped back and
surveyed his handiwork, smiling his whimsical, half-grave smile. For a
few seconds the two men stood looking at each other, and the thoughts
that passed through their minds were long, long thoughts.
"You'll do," said the Torpedo Lieutenant at length, but there was an
absent look in his eyes, as though his thoughts had gone a long way
beyond the spare, upright figure in blue and gold. In truth they had:
back fifteen years or more to a moonlit night in the club garden at
Malta. Two midshipmen had finished dinner (roast chicken, rum-omelette,
"Scotch-woodcock," and all the rest of it), and were experimenting
desperately with two cigars. It was Ladies' Night, and down on the
terrace a few officers' wives were dining with their husbands; the
Flagship's band was playing softly.
"A fellow must make up his mind, Bill," one of the midshipmen had said.
"It's either one thing or the other--either the Service or Women. You
can't serve both; and it seems to me that the Service ought to come
first." And there and then they had vowed eternal celibacy for the
benefit of the Navy, upon which, under the good providence of God, the
Honour, Safety, and Welfare of the Nation do most chiefly depend.
Fifteen years ago...!
"You'll do," repeated the Torpedo Lieutenant in a matter-of-fact tone,
and rang the bell.
Private Phillips of the Royal Marine Light Infantry entered with a
gold-necked bottle and two tumblers. The cork popped and the two
officers raised their glasses--
"Happy days!" said Torps.
"Salue!" replied the other, and for a moment his eyes rested on his Best
Man with something half-wistful in their regard. "D'you remember
Aldershot...? The Middles: you seconded me, and we split a bottle
afterwards...?"
Torps nodded, smiling. "But this is 'Just before the battle, mother!'"
They moved towards the door, and for a moment he rested his hand on the
heavy epaulette beside his. "An' if you make as good a show of this as
you did that afternoon, you won't come to no 'arm, old son."
*III.*
They were greeted at the church door by the beaming Indiarubber Man.
"Come along in--spot or plain?--I mean Bride or Bridegroom? Bride's
friends on the left and Bridegroom's on the right--or is it the other
way about? I'm getting so rattled.... I've just put the old caretaker
in a front pew under the impression that it was your rich aunt, Guns!
What a day, what a day! Got the ring, Torps? Here come the
Bridesmaids, bless 'em! Go on, you two, get up into your proper
billets.... 'The condemned man walked with unfaltering step'--oh,
sorry, I forgot...."
The Groomsmen slid into their pew with much rattling of sword-scabbards
and nodding of heads and whispering. On their gilded shoulders appeared
to lie the responsibility of the whole affair.
The Bridegroom took up his appointed place and stood, his hands linked
behind his back, looking down the aisle to where the choir was
gathering. The church seemed a sea of faces, glinting uniforms, and
women's finery. Who on earth were they all? He had no idea he knew so
many people.... Quite sure Millicent didn't.... How awful it must be to
have to preach a sermon.... The faint scent of lilies drifted up to
where he was standing. At his side Torps shifted his feet, and the
ferrule of his scabbard clinked on the aisle. Dear old Torps! ... How
he must be hating it all.
There was a faint stir at the entrance. The Bridesmaids' black velvet
hats and white feathers were bobbing agitatedly. He caught a glimpse of
a white-veiled figure. People were turning round, staring and
whispering. Dash it all! It wasn't a circus.... What did they think
they were here for?
"There she is," murmured Torps. "Not much longer now."
The clergyman was giving out the number of a hymn from the back of the
church somewhere, and the deep, sweet notes of the organ poured out over
their heads: then the voices of the choir-boys swelled up, drawing
nearer.... Again the scent of lilies.
"Stand by," from Torps, tensely.
The choir-boys filed past, singing; one had on a red tie that peeped
above his cassock. They glanced at him indifferently as they went by,
their heads on a level with his belt-buckle.... Then the white-veiled
figure on the Colonel's arm--Millicent: his, in a few short minutes, for
ever and aye.... He drew a deep breath.
"_Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of
God...._" Torps touched him lightly on the elbow.
* * * * *
"_I, John Mainprice Edgar..._"
"I, John Mainprice Edgar:"
"_Take thee, Millicent..._"
"Take thee, Millicent:"
* * * * *
"_To have and to hold..._"