On Patrol Part 5

THAT BLINKIN' CAT

THAT BLINKIN' CAT.

(Late of H.M.S. _Maidstone_.)

In the Diving-room, where the O.O.D.[6] his weary vigil keeps, Battered and scarred with years of strife behind the door she sleeps, Fighting her battles o'er again as ancient warriors may, With bristling fur as she dreams anew of many a n.o.ble fray.

Savage and Silent, Swift in the onslaught As the great eagle Stoops to the victim; Guard of the Gangway, Dreadful--prolific, Mother of hundreds, Terrier-Strafer, Messenger-biter.

Hail to the guard of the _Maidstone's_ Gangway--Skoal!

Sing of the day the air was full of words like "Alabaster,"

When she ate a piece of the Corporal's hand and bit the Quartermaster; The day she fought with an Airedale dog and drove him back to sh.o.r.e-- For the sake of her sixty little ones, she fought--and had some more.

Faithful and loyal, Guard of the Gangway, Turning the dogs back-- Yelping and howling.

Biting her masters-- Corporals--any one Fiercely domestic, Easily queen of-- Pugnacious obstetrics-- Motherly War.

Hail to the terror and pride of the _Maidstone_--Skoal!!

Sing of the day she won the fray with a new "Pandora" dog, And the Quartermaster shone with pride as he entered in the log: "At 10 P.M. we dowsed our pipes and drew the _Nettle's_ fires, At 10.15 six births aboard--_that blinkin' cat of ours_!"

[6] O.O.D.--Officer of the day.

1797.

1797.

Our brothers of the landward side Are bound by Church and stall, By Councils OEc.u.menical, By Gothic arches tall; But we who know the cold grey sea, The salt and flying spray, We praise the Lord in our fathers' way, In the simple faith of the sea we pray, To the G.o.d that the winds and waves obey Who sailed on Galilee.

We pray as the Flag-Lieutenant prayed, At St Vincent's cabin door (Twenty sail of the line in view-- South-West by South they bore): "O Lord of Hosts, I praise Thee now, And bow before Thy might, Who has given us fingers and hands to fight, And twenty s.h.i.+ps of the line in sight; Thou knewest, O Lord, and placed them right-- To leeward, on the bow."

AFTER THE WAR

AFTER THE WAR.

That far-off day when Peace is signed (and all the papers say-- "A most important by-election starts at Kew to-day; We urge our readers one and all to loyally support The Independent Candidate--Count Katzenjammerdordt") Will change a lot of little things--perhaps we'll get some leave, And hear a yarn of extra pay, which no one will believe; The salvage s.h.i.+ps will hurry out, two thousand wrecks to find, The monuments to Kultur that the Huns have left behind.

We'll watch the sweepers put to sea ten million mines to seek, And--Patrol Flotilla Exercise will start within a week; Someone Big will say to Someone: "Time for work and time for play, (Rub his hands together briskly) We'll commence the work to-day; They have had their fun and fighting, and they must be getting slack, Stop all leave and start manoeuvres--for the good old times are back."

Then destroyers and torpedo-boats and submarines and oilers Will receive a little notice headed "Maintenance of Boilers,"

"To economise in fuel while the s.h.i.+ps are out at sea Each pound of steam will count as two, and every knot as three."

We'll have the old manoeuvre Rules to show us what to do.

"I rose within two thousand yards and have torpedoed you,"

"My counter-claim is obvious--to port you must retire,"

"I sank you with a Maxim gun just as you rose to fire."

s.h.i.+ps will carry navigation lights--"Precautionary Measure,"

"An infringement of this solemn rule incurs My Lords' Displeasure."

Yes, the after-war manoeuvres will be fearful to behold, Not been held since nineteen--("half a minute, surely you've been told"), Hush, you'll get me into trouble ("it was eighteen months ago-- And the whole Grand Fleet was in it--I was there, I ought to know: _Red Fleet to start from Helgoland and Blue from Udsire Light, To meet in sixty-twenty North and have a morning fight.

No s.h.i.+p should cross a line between the Jahde and Amrum Bank, But should a German flag be seen (unless of junior rank),_ _No captain can do very wrong who indicates by guns-- We won't have our manoeuvres spoilt by interfering Huns._ Perhaps the wording isn't right, perhaps it isn't true, But we've got to have manoeuvres when there's nothing else to do.") And when the Censor fades away and leaves the presses clear For all the "Truths about the War," by "One who has no fear,"

And all the "Contract Scandals," by "A Clerk behind the Door,"

The book I want to see in print is "Humours of the War,"

Though I fear the other Censor (Morals, Cinemas, and Vice) Would expurgate the best of them as being hardly nice; Still, even with the cream suppressed a volume could be filled With the epigrams of killing and the jokes of being killed, With a preface by the officer we rescued from the wave, When a cloud of steam and lyddite smoke lay o'er the "Bluecher's" grave, Who, as the bowmen fished him out and pa.s.sed him aft to dry, Read the name upon their ribbons with a twinkle in his eye, And said: "A Westo s.h.i.+p, I think--I guess my luck is in, I'm sick of German subst.i.tutes--now for some Plymouth gin."

And a picture of the sailor in a certain submarine, Which was diving through the waters where the sweepers hadn't been, And who heard a m.u.f.fled b.u.mping noise that pa.s.sed along the side-- A noise that many men have heard an instant ere they died; And broke the silence following the last appalling thud With "Good old ruddy Kaiser! there's another bloomin' dud!"

There's a story too of Jutland, or perhaps another show, When the cruisers and destroyers had a meeting with the foe; And as the range was closing, and they waited for the word, From a sailor at an after-gun the following was heard: "It isn't _that_ that turns me up--'e's not the only one"-- But then the roar of ranging guns--the action had begun-- And for twenty awful minutes there was undiluted h.e.l.l, With flame and steam and cordite smoke and high-explosive sh.e.l.l.

Then as the bugle-call rang out, the savage fire to check, The loading numbers wiped their brows and looked around the deck: "As I was saying," came the voice, "before this row began, I think 'e should 've married 'er--if 'e'd bin 'alf a man."

LOW VISIBILITY

LOW VISIBILITY.

_We sailed from the sand-isles, In Sea Hawk and Dragon, Over the White Water, War-ready all of us.

Soon came the sea-mist, Soft was the wind then, Lay there the long-s.h.i.+ps, Lifting and falling.

Then cried the Captain: "Cold is the sea-fog, Weary is waiting-time, Wet are the byrnies; Burnish the breastplates, Broadswords and axes!

Hand we the horns round, Hail to the Dragon!"_

Our gentle pirate ancestors from off the Frisian Isles Kept station where we now patrol so many weary miles: There were no International Laws of Hall or Halleck then, They only knew the simple rule of "Death to beaten men."

And what they judged a lawful prize was any sail they saw From Scarboro' to the sandy isles along the Saxon sh.o.r.e.

We differ from our ancestors' conception of a prize, And we cruise about like Agag 'neath Sir Samuel Evans' eyes; But on one eternal subject we would certainly agree: It's seldom you can see a mile across the Northern sea, For as the misty clouds came down and settled wet and cold, The sodden halliards creaked and strained as to the swell they rolled.

Each yellow-bearded pirate knew beyond the veil of white The prize of all the prizes must be pa.s.sing out of sight; And drearily they waited while metheglin in a skin Was pa.s.sed along the benches, and the oars came sliding in; Then scramasax and battleaxe were polished up anew, And they waited for the fog to lift, the same as me and you; Though we're waiting on the bottom at the twenty fathom line, We are burnis.h.i.+ng torpedoes to a Sunday morning s.h.i.+ne.

The sailor pauses as he quaffs his tot of Navy rum, And listens to a noise that drowns the circulator's hum: "D'y 'ear those blank propellers, Bill--_the blinking female dog_-- That's Tirpitz in the 'Indenburg gone past us in the fog!"

HANG ON