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Updated: May 24, 2025
"He's full of grey-matter." He tapped his forehead, and stepping across to the common bookshelf indicated the back of a text book on advanced mechanics. "That's one of his little efforts," he said. Lettigne followed the other's finger. "Good night!" he ejaculated.
The boyish figure at the helm glanced aft to see his stern was clear, and put the wheel over, heading the boat in the direction of their ship. "Yes," he said. "At least a signal has just come through ordering us to raise steam for working cables at seven p.m." Lettigne, perched beside Mordaunt on the other side of the cabin-top, leaned across.
Most of the lights had been extinguished by the explosion, but a pile of cartridges in the rear of one of the guns had caught fire and burned fiercely, illuminating everything with a yellow glare. Lettigne, Midshipman of the battery, was untouched; deafened and deathly sick he took command of the remaining guns.
"I thought it was two, but it doesn't look right, somehow." The two pens scratched in unison. Matthews, the Midshipman of the previous Night Patrol, had stretched himself on an adjacent settee and fallen asleep immediately after dinner. Lettigne, otherwise known as "Bosh," amused himself by juggling with a banana, two oranges and a walnut, relics of his dessert.
And to-morrow know all men that I start training." "That's right," said Lettigne, still panting and adjusting his disordered garments. "Nothing like being really fit ready to go anywhere an' do anything that's my motto." He rang the bell and ordered a bottle of ginger beer. Tinned sausages. A delicacy peculiar to Gunrooms of the Fleet.
Lots of 'em," he added ruminatingly, "skipping about like young stag-beetles you know the kind of thing " The visionary got down off his chest, and, plucking the sides of his monkey-jacket between finger and thumb, pirouetted gracefully amid the scattered suit-cases and litter of clothes. "Comme ça!" he concluded. "What then?" demanded Lettigne, growing interested.
The disk had no sooner commenced to revolve when Lettigne advanced with a soda-water bottle, a corkscrew and half a lemon, collected at random from the sideboard.
Proof of his appreciation of the entertainment reached them a week later in the form of an enormous plum cake, and was followed thereafter at regular intervals by similar bounty. Lettigne sat down and wiped his forehead. "Phew!" he said when the door had closed behind the visitors. "Who was that old comic? I didn't catch his name." "Sir William Thorogood," replied another.
We shall miss the train if you keep us all hanging about here much longer. Some of us have got appointments in town we don't want to miss haven't we, Matthews?" The Midshipman thus suddenly addressed flushed and was instantly the target for his companions' humour. "That's right, sir," confirmed Lettigne maliciously. "Matthews is taking a real live actress out to supper to-morrow night."
It always takes me a week to find my gear." "Well, you'd better buck up," interposed the Senior Midshipman. "The boat leaves in ten minutes." "Help!" ejaculated Lettigne. "I don't care," he added. "I'm not going without my blinking trophy." He removed a pair of boots from the interior of an apoplectic-looking kit-bag and substituted the jagged piece of metal.
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