TRESSIDAR'S REWARD
IN the well-kept grounds of a naval hospital, far removed from the
danger-zone, where Zepp. alarms were unknown and the angry buzz of
raiding Taubes did not disturb the peaceful atmosphere, two bronzed
but obviously "crocked" officers were sunning themselves in
comfortable camp-chairs.
Ronald Tressidar had only just been able to dispense with the aid of
crutches, and with the assistance of a stout stick and the shoulder
of a fellow-patient he could get about the grounds without much
difficulty.
Eric Greenwood, although outwardly the "fitter" of the twain, was
still suffering from the effect of the injuries sustained in the
monitor's fire-control platform. His fate was literally in the
balance, for he was about to undergo another "medical board," upon
the finding of which his retention in His Majesty's Navy depended.
Tressidar, too, was chafing under the enforced delay. Complete rest
after strenuous activity afloat is all very well, but in time it
palls horribly. The call of the sea, strong even in the far-remote
times of peace, was now irresistible. Rumours of activity on the part
of the German fleet had grown persistent until the sub. realised the
possibility of The Day being pulled off while he was still cooling
his heels in the grounds of the naval hospital.
"Yes," declared the A.P., throwing the morning paper on the grass
beside his chair, "I'm bored stiff. We want something to cheer us up.
Solid good news, and no more silly tosh in the shape of purely
hypothetical statements of what may happen if something else
doesn't."
"What's upset your apple-cart now, old man?"
"Look at the news. Another hostile cruiser raid, followed,
presumably, by a letter from an amateur Lord of the Admiralty
expressing regret for the damage done to the bombarded town and a
promise that if the enemy try it again they'll feel sorry for
themselves. Ten days ago, too, the Press was deriding an official
Turkish communiqué. Now, as in previous cases, the report proves to
be absolutely correct. It makes a fellow feel particularly savage,
doesn't it?"
Tressidar shrugged his shoulders.
"Because we are out of it," he replied. "Out there, when we are doing
our individual bit, we had the satisfaction of knowing that whenever
a chance occurred we were too many for the Huns. We don't advertise;
we are not allowed to let others advertise for us, still the work
goes on. Out of touch with events afloat, we are apt to be influenced
by the opinion of the great and uninformed British Public. Still, I
admit, a little good news would be welcome. Here's Fuller to cheer
you up," he continued, as the flight-sub. came limping up over the
grass. "Well, my festive bird, how goes it?"
The flight-sub. had not been long in following his former companion
in captivity. It was he who had bombed the submarine just as the
refloated monitor was about to bring her remaining 14-inch gun to
bear upon the "U" boat. Having accomplished this feat, Fuller flew
back to Harwich to summon assistance to the badly damaged "Anzac,"
and, by the irony of fate, had slipped from the second rung of a
ladder on board the parent ship and had fractured his ankle.
"What's that?" demanded the newcomer as he tendered his
cigarette-case. Our A.P. requires cheering up?"
"Yes; he's developed a bad grousing attack," replied Tressidar. "Got
it badly, don't you know."
"Fact," agreed Greenwood. "I never was like it on board, was I,
Tress.? It must be this rotten inaction."
"No, you haven't time to have the blues out there," agreed the sub.
"Afloat we're fed on actions; but here we eke out a miserable
existence on words. Yes, Fuller, I think we want cheering up."
"Let me begin," said the flight-sub. "Now, this is official. Message
just come through. Listen: Yesterday morning in thick weather one of
our destroyer flotillas came in touch with some hostile cruisers. The
latter broke off action, but not before H.M.T.B.D. 'Ypres,'
Lieutenant-commander Terence Aubyn, D.S.O., succeeded in torpedoing a
large cruiser supposed to be the 'Opelm.'"
"Lucky blighter, Aubyn!" remarked Tressidar enviously. "I've met him
once or twice. Wish to goodness I had been shipmates with him in that
scrap."
"And now for a personal matter," continued Fuller. "For the simple
reason that I merely did what I am paid to do, they've slung a little
decoration at me. I've been given the Distinguished Service Cross for
busting up a 'U' boat that was trying to strafe you, but couldn't."
In the midst of the blunt and hearty congratulations of his chums,
Fuller suddenly noticed a nursing sister approaching.
"I'm off," he exclaimed hurriedly. "There'll be a deuce of a breeze
if she finds that I'm out here without that fakealorum caboodle of a
wheeled chair. Come along, Greenwood; bear a hand. S'long, Tress.;
don't give the show away."
The A.P. obligingly did as the flight-sub. had requested and
Tressidar was left alone.
A light footfall caused him to look up. Standing a few feet away was
Doris Greenwood, who, of course by a pure coincidence, had been
transferred from Auldhaig to the south-west coast hospital a few
weeks previously.
"Have you seen Eric?" asked the girl, who was holding three or four
envelopes in her hand. At the risk of losing his balance, Tressidar
leant sideways and peeped under his camp chair.
"I cannot see him anywhere here, Sister," he replied, loyalty to the
retreating Fuller compelling him to avoid a direct reply. "At all
events, I was left here in solitude to meditate upon the fraility of
human friendship, when like a guiding star----"
"Please don't be idiotic," said Doris with mock severity. "Here is a
telegram for you."
"Thank you," said the sub. promptly. "Now, won't you accept this
vacant chair (believe me, it's very comfortable) and open the
wretched thing for me? You know telegrams always give me a bad time.
For instance, this flimsy, orange-coloured envelope might contain the
information that my great-great-aunt has died and left a cool million
to be divided equally between her one and only great-great-nephew and
the Home for Lost and Anaemic Cats. So please open the fateful
missive and read me the momentous news."
"You want a lot of humouring, Ronald," said the girl as she seated
herself and began to rip open the envelope. "If all the other
patients were like you----"
"Heaven forbid!" ejaculated Tressidar piously.
The wire was a "private tip" sent by a friend "up-topsides" at the
Admiralty.
"Your promotion dated from the twenty-ninth," read Doris.
"Hurrah!" exclaimed Tressidar joyously, sub. no longer but a
full-fledged lieutenant. "This must be my birthday."
"Also awarded D.S.O. for 'Anzac' affair," continued the girl.
"Ronald, you are a lucky fellow. I congratulate you heartily. You
seem to get everything you want."
Like a flash came the sailor's instinct to act promptly. Tressidar's
powerful, bronzed hand closed over the girl's firm wrist.
"Ay," he rejoined. "And, best of all, you, Doris."
THE END
MADE AND PRINTED BY PURNELL AND SONS
PAULTON (SOMERSET) AND LONDON
Transcriber's Notes:
This book contains a number of misprints.
The following misprints have been corrected:
[And even if that mine explode] -->
[And even if that mine explodes]
[sinister-loking objects] -->
[sinister-looking objects]
[gone to blow up the bas-bag] -->
[gone to blow up the gas-bag]
[was quickly spread broadcast from] -->
[was quickly spread--broadcast from]
[Sorched and maimed bodies] -->
[Scorched and maimed bodies]
[psycological moment] -->
[psychological moment]
[would bewray their presence] -->
[would betray their presence]
[were more serious that she believed,] -->
[were more serious than she believed,]
[uppermost ratlins] -->
[uppermost ratlines]
[a horizonal position] -->
[a horizontal position]
[Relying implicity upon] -->
[Relying implicitly upon]
A few cases of punctuation errors were corrected, but are
not mentioned here.
End of Project Gutenberg's A Watch-dog of the North Sea, by Percy F. Westerman