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Falland, and use your own discretion in the matter," said the Captain, half suspecting that his subordinate was trying to make fun of him, but knowing full well that, whatever the navigator did, he could always find fault with it.
But " the navigator hesitated. "But what, Mr. Falland?" "Suppose a man is tall, thin, and bearded, sir?" asked Falland, in utter perplexity. "Seize upon his predominant feature, Mr.
"Heaven help us!" cried the medical officer, rising hastily from his chair and disappearing into his cabin. "What sort of a chap did you say he was, Number One?" Falland queried, with traces of anxiety in his voice. "I only know him by reputation," the first lieutenant answered lugubriously. "But he's got the name of being rather ... er, peculiar.
To think that it should come to this. Poor, poor old Puffin!" A few minutes later Falland, on his way aft to visit the captain, glanced into the wardroom. Pardoe still sat in the armchair muttering softly to himself with his head bowed down between his hands. The floor, the table, and the chair were littered with tracts of all the colours of the rainbow.
Falland!" he exclaimed, his eyes flashing and his heart full of rage. "The collision was entirely your fault. I shall report the matter to the Admiral, and meanwhile you will remain in your cabin under arrest!" "But, sir. I really " "I require no explanations, sir. You are guilty of gross neglect and carelessness!" Falland left the poop.
Altogether the first Sunday was a regular débâcle for the Puffin's but an undoubted triumph for Commander Potvin. "Mr. Falland," he said, having walked round the ranks. "I am sorry to find all this laxity in the important matter of dress, and I rely upon you to take immediate steps to have it rectified." "Aye, aye, sir."
Your hair is too long, and your beard is not trimmed in the proper service manner. Your trousers are at least two inches too tight round the knee, and six inches too slack round the ankle, while the rows of tape on your collar are too close together. It will not do," he added, glaring unpleasantly. "The uniform regulations are made to be strictly adhered to. Mr. Falland!" "Sir."
Falland was not court-martialled, but a week later Commander Potvin, after an interview with the Admiral and certain medical officers, found that the climate of Hong-Kong was too rigorous for his constitution, and embarked on board a P. and O. steamer for passage home to England en route for Yarmouth.
But Commander Potvin also had a reputation to keep up, and he would not be Commander Potvin if he could not find fault somewhere. "Seaman's division 'shun!" shouted Falland, the officer in charge, as the commander and first lieutenant made their appearance from under the poop. "Off caps!"
It was in this narrow passage that they had their altercation with a lumbering Chinese junk tacking slowly to and fro against the tide. "Hard a-port!" ordered Falland, who was conning the ship. "Hard a-starboard!" contradicted the Commander excitedly. "What are you thinking about, Mr. Falland?"
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