rds
this Captain of theirs.

It was something they were rather proud that the rest of the Fleet
should see.

Moreover, the rest of the Fleet, leaning over the forecastle rails and
smoking its evening pipe, did see, and was none the worse for it.

A man might have been excused if he betrayed some self-consciousness at
finding himself thus suddenly the cynosure of a thousand-odd pair of
eyes whose owners were doing their best to show him, after their
fashion, that they thought him an uncommonly fine fellow. The
atmosphere was electrical with this abrupt, boyish ebullition of
feeling. Yet the Captain's face, as he took his seat, was as composed
as if he were alone in the middle of his own wide moors. He lit a pipe
and nodded to the Commander beside him to signify that as far as he was
concerned the show could start as soon as they liked.

All happy ships own a sing-song party of some sort or another. It may
be that the singers are content to sit pipe in mouth in the lee of a
gunshield and croon in harmony as the dusk settles down on a day's work
done. Other ships' companies are more ambitious; the canteen provides
a property-box, and from a flag-decked stage the chosen performers
declaim and clog-dance with all the circumstance of the drama.

In days of piping peace, the Operatic and Dramatic Company of this
particular ship had known many vicissitudes. Under the guidance of a
musically inclined Ship's Steward, it had faced audiences across
impromptu footlights as "The Pale Pink Pierrots," and, as such, had
achieved a meteoric distinction. But unhappily the Ship's Steward was
partial to oysters, and bought a barrelful at an auction sale ashore.
On the face of things, it appeared a bargain; but the Ship's Steward
neglected to inquire too closely into the antecedents of its contents,
and was duly wafted to other spheres of usefulness.

The Chaplain, an earnest man but tone-deaf, rallied the leaderless
troupe of musicians. During the period of his directorship they were
known to fame as "The Musical Coons." Musical in that each one wielded
a musical instrument with which he made bold to claim acquaintance,
Coons because they blacked their faces with burnt cork and had
"corner-men." The corner-men were the weak spots in an otherwise
well-planned organisation.

A sailor can be trusted with the integrity of a messmate's honour or
the resources of the mint, conceivably with the key of a brewery
cellar, and justi