Part 30

Silence, or comparative silence, having been obtained, Uncle Podger gravely read, from a long roll of paper, the horrible charge: "Whereas, Mr. Charles Stokes, commonly known as the China Doll, did, after being duly warned and cautioned not to wear pink socks"--(loud "booing" from the "crowd", and a request from the "crowd" for his cot to be shifted a little farther for'ard, so that he could see better).

After this interruption, and the Court had settled down again, the "Judge-Advocate" resumed: "pink socks, not in accordance with the Uniform Regulations of His Majesty's Navy, and also infringing the customs of the Honourable Mess, and being distasteful to the Honourable Members thereof, and did indulge this noxious habit on sundry and divers occasions, to wit, notably at dinner on the thirteenth day of the first month of the year nineteen hundred and sixteen; therefore, the aforesaid Mr. Charles Stokes be now brought before a Court Martial, duly assembled, and his crime diligently, and with all due formality, examined into, and death or other such punishment as be deemed necessary, awarded."

"Prisoner at the Bar," the "Judge-Advocate" began sternly--("Tremble, China Doll," Rawlins implored in a whisper. "Shake the chain and the handcuffs.")--"having heard the grave charge, do you plead guilty or not guilty?"

"Guilty, my Lord," squeaked the "Prisoner", knowing that this was just what no one would want him to say.

"The 'Prisoner at the Bar' pleads 'Not guilty'--not guilty, my Lord!'" shrieked the "Provost-Marshal", "Master-at-Arms", "Second Executioner", and "Prisoner's Escort", all rolled in one, waving his long sword; the two comic "Jailers" joined in to drown the "Prisoner's" voice.

There was now heard, from the deck outside, shouts of "Justice! Justice!" and a rather mild "booing" from the "crowd"; in rushed the Orphan and struck an attitude. "Am I too late to save my young friend's life?" he cried tragically, holding one hand against the front of his monkey-jacket, beneath which something bulged out. "The prisoner pleads 'Not guilty, my Lord!' and I am here to prove his innocence. Fleeing from the Dardanelles, flying from the post of danger, I--I--I---- Oh, hang it all; I can't remember any more!"

So down the Orphan sat, amidst groans from the "Jailers", the "First and Second Executioners", and the "crowd" outside.

"The 'Prisoner at the Bar' having pleaded 'Not guilty, my Lord!'" continued the "Judge-Advocate", "I will now request my honourable friend, 'Mr. Prosecutor', to proceed."

So the Lamp-post, having cleared his throat several times, and fixed the "Prisoner" with an "eagle glance", before which the China Doll's knees shook in the most realistic manner, proceeded: "My Lord, in my researches among my legal books" (here he rested his hand on the Encyclopaedia) "I find but little mention of socks, and none of pink socks, which is sufficient proof that the crime, of which the 'Prisoner at the Bar' is charged, is one of a unique and most dangerous character. But" (and he banged the reading-desk) "in the article on 'Dyes' I find this: 'Pink dye is produced from coal-tar'"--(great sensation in Court; Bubbles pretended to faint against the bulkhead; the Pimple waved the meat-chopper so close to the "Judge's" head that he was told to put it down in the corner; and there was prolonged hissing from the "crowd").

Then the "Prosecutor", lightly touching on coal-tar soap, tarred roads--their advantage to motors and disadvantage to the fish in the streams which ran alongside them, briefly mentioned the good old custom of "tar and feathering", which he trusted the Court would inflict on the wretched "Prisoner at the Bar". "These," he said, suddenly holding aloft the two incriminating socks, "are the abominated vestments or 'what-nots' owned and worn by that trembling, terrified tadpole, that cringing criminal in the dock. I will now, my Lord, proceed to call my witnesses."

"You're doing it spiffingly!" whispered Rawlins to the China Doll. "If you could only wink up a tear, and shake the chains a bit more!"

One by one, Uncle Podger, the "Jailers", and Barnes (in his shirt-sleeves) were called to the reading-desk, sworn on the office copy of the King's Regulations and Admiralty Instructions, and each identified those socks as having been worn by the "Prisoner" on the occasion in question. The War Baby further gave evidence that he had found them that night concealed in the "Prisoner's" chest.

The Orphan, with some hazy idea of judicial procedure, tried unsuccessfully to obtain a hearing. At last he was heard to say: "That the 'Prisoner at the Bar' denied ever having seen them before; that having been brought up from the tenderest age on 'Pink Pills for Pale Piccaninnies', he so abominated that colour that he invariably fainted on seeing it". Here, with his free hand (for the other hand still clasped the bulge beneath his monkey-jacket), he seized the pink socks from the "Prosecutor" and held them in front of the "Prisoner's" face.

The China Doll promptly fell back into the arms of the "Jailers" and "Provost-Marshal".

"See, my Lord!" and the Orphan pointed triumphantly (as Rawlins whispered, "Keep on fainting--I'll tell you when to stop"); "can the Court require further proof of his innocence?"

("Yes! Yes! Booh! Booh! Yah!" from the "crowd" and the Pimple.)

"Then I will produce the real criminal, the owner of those hateful socks;" and putting his hand inside his monkey-jacket, the Orphan drew out "Kaiser Bill", with his head out and legs dangling from his shell.

"There he is! Come to save the innocent life of that young officer--at the risk of his own shell!" (Tremendous sensation in Court; the "Jailers" flung their arms round each other and wept loudly--even the "Judge" smiled as he refilled his pipe.)

"I will now confront him with those socks, and the Court will see him recognize them," went on the Orphan, and dangled a sock in front of "Kaiser Bill". Unfortunately, just at that moment the Pimple dropped the meat-chopper, and "Kaiser Bill", thinking, probably, that "Asiatic Annie" was getting busy again, promptly "ducked" inside his shell, and nothing would induce him to come out again.

The Lamp-post banged the reading-desk. "My Lord, you have seen for yourself that the Witness for the Defence refuses to perjure himself: the case is clear; I submit that the charge is proved."

In the general clamour and booing which followed, the China Doll endeavoured to make himself heard; but every time he opened his mouth, Rawlins or Bubbles slapped a wet sponge (thoughtfully provided by the Pimple) over his mouth, and the War Baby sawed gently at his neck with his sword.

Amid the general uproar, the Orphan was understood to be pleading for the clemency of the Court. "The 'Prisoner at the Bar'," he was heard to say, "resolved, at a tender age, to devote his life to his King and Country, and, leaving several disconsolate, doting wives and children to mourn his loss, had come to sea to make toast for the Honourable Mess."

"But he doesn't make it now; he never did! He always ate it himself!" yelled the "Jailers", the "First Executioner", and the "crowd".

"I look to the justice of the Court to acquit the miserable little worm--I mean, this gallant and impetuous officer--of the foul charge which--which--which---- Oh, hang it all! I've forgotten what comes next," the Orphan said, and, amidst "loud and prolonged cheering" from the Hun in his cot outside, sat down on the gun-room table with "Kaiser Bill" on his knees.

The Sub banged the table. "Has the 'Prisoner at the Bar' anything to say in his defence?"

The China Doll, thinking that at last the time had come for him to make the funny remarks he expected everyone to laugh at, began, in his most squeaky voice, his eyes opening and shutting: "My Lord, old Lampy is----"

"The Prosecutor! the Prosecutor!" they all shouted, whilst the "Jailers" clapped the sponge over his mouth.

"Is an ass!" shrieked the China Doll, struggling free.

"Muzzle the 'Prisoner'! Shove the sponge in his mouth! Cut his head off!" shouted the "Jailers", the "Provost-Marshal", the "First Executioner", and the "crowd".

The Sub banged the table for silence, and roared: "'Provost-Marshal', remove the 'Prisoner', and send back the 'Jailers'!" Whereupon the China Doll was lifted up, kicking and squeaking, and taken out into the half-deck, the War Baby keeping guard whilst the two "Comic Jailers" came back.

"Now look here," began the Sub, "we've had too much of this fooling of the Assistant Clerk. He's not a bad little chap, and we're simply spoiling him. He thinks of nothing but how he can make us laugh at him. When he goes to another ship he'll have a rotten time, and grow up to be a 'rotter'. He wore those pink socks after I had told him not to do so, and to make you laugh at him all the more. Now all this 'rot' has to stop--from this very moment. He is not to be called China Doll any longer--the name will stick to him, and sooner or later spoil him. Stokes is his name, and Stokes--and nothing else--nothing else, do you understand?--you will call him in future. You can 'scrap' with him as much as you like, but you are to talk sensibly to him--and you are never again to call him China Doll. Go and fetch the 'Prisoner'."

The snotties never expected any ending like this, and, rather bewildered, brought back the excited Mr. Stokes.

"Take off those handcuffs and foolhardy chains," the Sub called out, "and bring Mr. Stokes over here."

The Assistant Clerk stood opposite the Sub, wondering why the others didn't giggle at the abject look of silly fright he tried to show.

"Stand up when I speak to you!" growled the Sub, and the Assistant Clerk straightened himself and looked frightened--naturally; he didn't know what was the matter.

"I have taken 'President of the Court' to-night, Mr. Stokes," the Sub began sternly, "and let you have your fun out of it, but I am going to say a few things to you which you are to remember. If you intend to become a credit to yourself and the Navy you must learn to obey orders--that is the first thing. Then you must learn to be manly, which you are not trying to do here. If you hadn't been just a silly, little puppy I should have beaten you; but from now on, you are to be called by your proper name--Stokes--and by nothing else--and--and--dash it all--come with me to my cabin and talk it over."

Ten minutes later they both came back, the Assistant Clerk looking as if he had shed tears.

The Sub put his hand on his shoulder. "Have a drink, Stokes?" and Mr. Stokes looking up, with a suspicion of a tremble on his lips, said: "Thank you, sir, I should like a ginger beer."

"Barnes!" called the Sub; "bring me a whisky and soda, and a ginger beer for Mr. Stokes."

The others kept very quiet.

The evening after that court martial had taken place, and just before dinner, Bubbles and the Orphan, vastly excited, knocked at the door of the Sub's cabin.

"We've had this made for 'Kaiser Bill'," they both began saying, bursting in. "Could we get Fletcher and the tortoise down to the gun-room after dinner, and present it to him--properly?" and they pulled out a brass cross, shaped like a German "Iron Cross", suspended on a piece of coloured ribbon with a proper brooch and four "clasps".

The Sub examined it, smiling as he read on one side of the cross "Kaiser Bill--the Tortoise", on the other "Good Luck"; and on the clasps: "_Achates_, 1915-16"--"Smyrna"--"'W' beach"--and on the fourth--a very broad one: "Evacuation, Suvla--Helles".

"We got it made on board," they said. "Haven't they done it well?"

"Where did you get the ribbon?" he asked.

"Off the War Baby's straw hat. He'll never want it. Can we tell Fletcher to come down after dinner, and will you give 'Kaiser Bill' the medal? It would be best to come from you."

"All right; tell him to come to the gun-room after 'rounds'."

So off they rushed.

Just after nine o'clock old Fletcher came aft with the tortoise. They all met him outside, escorted him into the gun-room, and made him sit down in the one easy-chair, with the tortoise on his knees.

Then the Sub said: "We've had a medal made for 'Kaiser Bill', Fletcher; we thought you'd like to have it, just to remember what he had been through, and remind you about it later on."

The old stoker took the medal and its clasps, pulled his gold spectacles out of their case from inside his "jumper", fixed them on his nose, and beamed when he read the inscriptions. "Thank you very much, gentlemen! Thank you all, very much! I'll take it home with me, and I hope I'll take 'Kaiser Bill' home too. He did bring luck, didn't he? If we'd only had him with us, that last time in the picket-boat, we shouldn't have lost her. Should we, sir?"

Then Stokes, very nervous because this was his first public appearance under his real name, stuttered: "And, Fletcher, the Sub wants me to give you this box of cigars; he thinks 'Kaiser Bill' likes the smell of cigar smoke!"

"It's very kind of you all; thank you very much, gentlemen;" and the old stoker, beaming at them through his gold spectacles, added, artlessly: "If 'Kaiser Bill' doesn't enjoy the smell of them, I know someone who does. Thank you all, very much indeed!"

Next morning, just after daybreak, every one of the midshipmen (except the Hun in his cot) came on deck to see the old walls of Malta standing up out of the glittering sea, ahead of the ship.

As they watched, and chaffed Rawlins about the dinner he had to "stand" the Lamp-post at the Club, the messenger-boy from the "wireless" room brought aft the usual morning "Wireless Press News".

"Beg pardon, sir, but there's something about you this morning," he said, coming up to the Orphan.

"About me! What d'you mean?"

"There, sir," and the messenger-boy pointed to the end of the last page.

They all crowded round the Orphan, who read: "The following additional Naval honours appeared in last night's _Gazette_", and at the end of the list came--and the Orphan's head buzzed--"Distinguished Service Cross--Midshipman Vincent Orpen".

For a minute he wondered whether it was possible that there could be another midshipman of the same name; but whilst the others thumped him on the back and congratulated him, another messenger came flying down from the bridge: "The Captain wants you, sir, at once."

Not knowing whether he was on his head or his heels, the Orphan flew up to the fore bridge.

Captain Macfarlane smiled at him and tugged his beard.

"Is it really true, sir?"

"I imagine so; I sent your name in."

"What's it for, sir?"

"I think, Mr. Orpen, for working that maxim in your picket-boat, at Ajano."

"Thank you awfully, sir! but Plunky Bill was wounded twice, sir."

"Was he the seaman who fired it before you 'took on'?" asked the Captain.

"Yes, sir; he was hit twice before he gave up."

"I think, Mr. Orpen, you'll find that he has not been forgotten."

"Thank you, sir, awfully! I--I--must go and tell the Hun and the Sub--won't they be pleased?"

The Orphan thereupon dashed down the bridge ladder.

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