Part 12

A tense silence fell upon the crowded battery: the only sound that of men breathing hard. A limp figure was seen descending the Jacob's ladder out of the boat, assisted by two of the crew. Heady hands were outstretched to help, and the next moment Willie Sparling, Ordinary Seaman, Official Number 13728, was once more on the deck of a man-of-war--a place he never expected to see again.

"Ow!" He winced, "Min' my shoulder--it's 'urted...." He looked round at the familiar faces lit by the electric lights, and jerked his head back at the boat hanging from her davits. "_'E_ saved my life--look after 'im. 'E's a ... e's a--bleedin' 'ero, ..." and Willie Sparling, with a broken collar-bone, collapsed dramatically enough.

The Engineer Lieutenant swung himself down on to the upper deck and stooped to wring the water from his trousers. The Surgeon seized him by the arm---

"Come along, Shortie--in between the blankets with you!"

The hero of the moment disengaged his arm and shook himself like a terrier. "Blankets be blowed--it's my Middle Watch."

The Surgeon laughed. "Plenty of time for that: it's only just after half-past nine. What about a hot toddy?"

"Lord! I thought I'd been in the water for hours.... Yes, by Jove! a hot toddy----" He paused and looked round, his face suddenly anxious. "By the way, ... 'any one seen a pipe sculling about...?"

Down below the telegraph gongs clanged, and the ship's bows swung round on to her course, heading once more for England, Home, and Beauty.

*XXIV.*

*"A PICTURESQUE CEREMONY."*

"S---- Parish Church was, yesterday afternoon, the scene of a picturesque ceremony...."--_Local Paper_.

The Torpedo Lieutenant (hereinafter known as "Torps") was awakened by the June sunlight streaming in through the open scuttle of his cabin. Overhead the quarterdeck-men were busy scrubbing decks: the grating murmur of the holystones and swish of water from the hoses, all part of each day's familiar routine, sent his eyes round to the clock ticking on the chest of drawers.

For a while he lay musing, watching with thoughtful gaze the disc of blue sky framed by the circle of the scuttle; then, as if in obedience to a sudden resolution, he threw back the bed-clothes and hoisted himself out of his bunk. Slipping his feet into a pair of ragged sandals, he left his cabin and walked along the flat till he came to another a few yards away; this he entered, drawing the curtain noiselessly.

The occupant of the bunk was still asleep, breathing evenly and quietly, one bare forearm, with the faint outline of a snake tattooed upon it, lying along the coverlet. For a few moments the new-comer stood watching the sleeper, the corners of his eyes creased in a little smile. Men sometimes smile at their friends that way, and at their dogs. The face on the pillow looked very boyish, somehow, ... he hadn't changed much since _Britannia_ days, really; and they had been through a good deal between then and now. Wholesome, lean old face it was; no wonder a woman...

The sleeper stirred, sighed a little, and opened his eyes. For a moment they rested, clear and direct as an awakened child's, on Torps' face; then he laughed a greeting--

"Hullo, Torps!" He yawned and stretched, and rising on one elbow, thrust his head out of the scuttle. "Thank Heaven for a fine day! Number One back from leave yet?"

"Yes, he's back: you're quite safe."

The other lay back in the bunk. "Has Phillips brought my tea yet?" He looked round helplessly. "What an awful pot-mess my cabin is in. Those are presents that came last night--they've all got to be packed. What's the time? Why, it's only half-past seven! Torps, you are the limit! I swear I've always read in books that fellows stayed in bed till lunch on these occasions, mugging up the marriage-service. I'm not going to get up in the middle of the night--be blowed if I do!"

Torps lit a cigarette. "That's only in books. We'll have breakfast, and take your gear up to the hotel, and then we'll play nine holes of golf--just to take our minds off frivolous subjects."

"Golf! My dear old ass, I couldn't drive a yard!"

"Well, you're going to have a try, anyway. Everything's arranged that can be: you aren't allowed to drink cocktails; you can't see Her--till two o'clock. You'd fret yourself into a fever here in bed--what else do you think you're going to do?"

The prospective bridegroom stirred his tea in silence. "Well, I suppose there's something in all that; pass me a cigarette--there's a box just there.... Oh, thanks, old bird; don't quite know why I should be treated as if I were an irresponsible and feeble-minded invalid, just because I'm going to be married."

The Best Man laughed. "How d'you feel about it yourself?"

"H'm.... D'you remember one morning at Kao-chu--was that the name of the place? It began to dawn, and we saw those yellow devils coming up, a thousand or so of the blighters: we had a half-company and no maxim, d'you remember? It was dev'lish cold, and we wanted our breakfasts, ... and we were about sixteen?"

Torps smiled recollection. "Bad's that?"

"Very nearly."

"I remember--what they call in the quack advertisements 'That Sickish Feeling'! Never mind, turn out and scrape your face; you'll feel much better after your bath----"

Outside in the flat the voice of some one carolling drew near--

"_For_ ... it is ... my _wed_--ding _MOR-_ ... ning....!"

The victim groaned. "Oh Lord! Now they're going to start being comic."

"All right; it's only the Indiarubber Man."[#] The curtain was drawn back and a smiling face, surmounted by a shock of ruddy hair, thrust into the cabin--

[#] Lieutenant for Physical Training Duties.

"'Morning, Guns! Many happy returns of the day, and all that sort of thing. Merry and bright?"

The Gunnery Lieutenant forced a wan smile. "Quite--thanks."

"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..._"

This was simple enough--"To have and to hold:"

* * * * *

"And thereto I plight thee my troth."

How warm and steady the small hand was, lying in his: then gently withdrawn. Torps was trying to attract attention--What was his trouble? The ring--Of course, the ring....

* * * * *

"_Those whom, God hath joined together let no man put asunder._"

* * * * *

Life's haven at last! Or had all life been a cruise within the harbour: and this the beat to open sea ... The Brave Adventure?

* * * * *

"_The peace of God which passeth all understanding ... remain with you now and for evermore._"

* * * * *

There was a whisper of silken petticoats, and the clink of swords seems to fill the church: then, dominating all other sounds for a moment, the old Colonel blowing his nose vehemently....

Down the aisle again, the organ thundering familiar strains--familiar, yet suddenly imbued with a personal and intimate message,--Millicent's arm resting on his, trembling ever so lightly....

In the warm, bouquet-scented gloom of the vestry they gathered, and Torps wrung the Bridegroom's hand in a hard, unaccustomed grip--Torps with his winning, half-sad smile, and the hair over his temples showing the first trace of grey.... The bride finished signing the register, and rose smiling, with the veil thrown back from her fair face. In later years he found himself recalling a little sadly (as the happiest of bachelors may do at times) the queer, shining gladness in her eyes. He bent and touched the warm cheek with his lips.

Then for a minute every one seemed to fall a-kissing. Father and daughter, Mother and son, newly-made brothers- and sisters-in-law sought each other in turn. The Bridegroom's Lady Mother kissed the Indiarubber Man because no one else seemed to want to, and they were such old friends. The Clergyman kissed two of the Bridesmaids because he was their uncle, and the Colonel (who had stopped blowing his nose and was cheering up) kissed the other two because he wasn't. In the middle of all this pleasant exercise Torps, who had vanished for a minute, reappeared to announce that the Arch of Swords was ready and the carriages were alongside.

So the procession formed up once more: Bride and Bridegroom, the Colonel and the Bridegroom's Lady Mother: Torps leading the Bridegroom's new sister-in-law (and a very pretty sister-in-law she was), the Flapper and the Indiarubber Man, a girl called Etta Someone on the Junior Watch-keeper's arm, and another called Doris Somebody Else under the escort of the A.P. They all passed beneath the arch of naked blades held up by the Bridegroom's messmates and friends, to receive a running fire of chaff and laughing congratulation; to find outside in the golden afternoon sunshine that the horses had been taken from the carriage-traces, and a team of lusty blue-jackets, all very perspiring and serious of mien, waiting to do duty instead.

*IV.*

Private Phillips, R.M.L.I., in all subsequent narrations of the events of the day--and they were many and varied--was wont to preface each reminiscence with "Me an' the Torpedo Lootenant..." And indeed he did both indefatigable workers bare justice. Whether it was opening carriage doors or bottles of champagne, fetching fresh supplies of glasses or labelling and strapping portmanteaux, Private Phillips laboured with the same indomitable stertorous energy. He accepted orders with an omniscient and vehement nod of the head; usurped the duties of enraptured maid-servants with, "You leave me do it, Miss--I bin married meself. I knows the routine, as you might say...."

And Torps, superintending the distribution of beer to panting blue-jackets (whose panting, in some cases, was almost alarming in its realism); fetching cups of tea for stout dowagers, and ices for giggling schoolgirls; begging a sprig from the bridesmaids' bouquets; tipping policemen; opening telegrams; yet always with an attention ready for the Bridegroom's aunt who remembered Guns as such a _little_ boy.... Helpful even to the ubiquitous reporter of the local paper....

"A picturesque ceremony--if I may say so. A _most_ picturesque ceremony." The reporter would feel for his notebook. "Might I ask who that tall Officer is with the medals...? My Paper----" And Torps, with his gentle manners and quiet smile, would supply the information to the best of his ability, conscious that at a wedding there are harder lots even than the Best Man's....

The Indiarubber Man drifted disconsolately about in the crush, finally coming to a momentary anchorage in a corner beside his Bridesmaid.

"Miss Betty, no one loves me, and I'm going into the garden"--he dropped his voice to a confidential undertone--"to eat worms."

The girl giggled weakly. "Please don't make me laugh any more! Won't you stay here and have an ice instead? I'm sure it would be much better for you."

"Would it, d'you think? I've been watching the sailors drinking beer. Have you ever seen a sailor drink beer, Miss Betty? It's a grim sight."

She shook her head, and there was both laughter and reproach in the young eyes considering him over the bouquet. "You forsook me--and a nice Midshipman had pity on my loneliness and brought me an ice."

The Indiarubber Man eyed her sorrowfully. "I turn my back for a moment to watch sailors drink beer--I am a man of few recreations--and return to find you sighing over the memory of another and making shocking bad puns. Really, Miss Betty--Ah! _Now_ I can understand...."