ething in this suggestion, and a few years ago such an
ending as it conjured up would have been popular, I think:

"The battle was over. Whistling 'Tipperary,' and placing the
wallet and watch of his prostrate antagonist in the pocket of
his body shield, Arthur strode onward to join his comrades at
their evening meal in Houthulst Wood. Here let us leave him,
calmly facing the morrow as only an Englishman can.

"THE END."

The next day brought the worst weather that we had met since we left the
Channel. At first it was merely cool and mild; but that was misleading.
Down came the rain, thick, cold, and steady; and there seemed a sufficient
supply to last until we left. I noticed it, myself, with more especial
observation, at my post of tallyman.

In the drizzle the lighters came alongside bringing the coal in bags.
The stevedore's gang and their own overseers arrived aboard. One of
these overseers was an Englishman, who by his manner and speech had
evidently been brought up in a widely different setting; but it was none
of our business, though Bicker and others considered it a disgrace for an
Englishman to be so employed. All I heard was that he came from the
West of England, and that he was wild (which appeared sufficiently in his
countenance); and I admired his intellect, and tried to make him feel
that. The other overseer was a fat old Italian, who tallied with me for
the lighter on the port side.

As these men and the poor fellows who were emptying the sacks into the
hatches or trimming the coal down below had been at work all the night,
it was not surprising that our affairs moved slowly. The winch, steaming
and thudding and jerking in a mutinous mood, brought up four bags at
a time, on my side. The sling that held them was lowered to the deck, the
hands rushed to swing them on to the improvised platforms beside the
hatches, with a concerted roaring as if over the capture of a tiger. While
these bags were being emptied, the sling would be descending into the
lighter again; and so it continued, with a fog of coal particles
wrapping the neighbourhood. The gang was a mixed multitude. Nationality
might have been anything. The prevailing colour was a sable (unsilvered),
under which mask might be distinguished Italian, Portuguese, Japanese,
West Indian, and other types. Among the most energetic of those who
were emptying the bags, the most vocal of the roarers, there