ll right, sir," he said, "seein' as 'ow I've bin in it a
matter o' fifteen year. But between you an' me, sir," he hastened to
add, "it ain't like wot it wus when I fust jined. It's full o'
noo-fangled notions an' sichlike."

"What d'you mean?" I asked in some amazement.

"Carn't say no more, sir. Afore we wus sent on leaf we wus all
cautioned special not to git talkin' abart the Service wi' civvies."

I suppose I did look rather unlike a member of His Majesty's land
forces, for I was wearing plain clothes and had only come out of
hospital four days before, after being wounded for the second time on
the western front. (I am speaking of the fighting line in France, not
anatomically.) I hastened to explain who I was.

"Sorry I spoke, sir," he apologised. "I thought you wus one o' these
'ere la-de-dah blokes out fur an arrin'. Wot did you say your corpse
wus?"

"Corpse! What corpse?"

"Corpse, sir. Rig'mint."

"Oh, I see. I'm only a doctor, a Lieutenant in the R.A.M.C. I'm on
sick leave, and crawled up here to-day to get some fresh air and to ...
er, meet someone I know." I looked at my wrist watch and glanced over
my shoulder.

"Young lady, sir?" he queried in a husky, confidential whisper.

I nodded.

"I'm on the same lay meself," he told me, with a throaty sigh and a
lovelorn look in his blue eyes. "Expectin' 'er any minit now, seein'
as 'ow it's 'er arternoon art. 'Er name's Hamelia, an' I don't come up
'ere to look at the perishin' sea, not 'arf I don't. I gits fair sick
o' lookin' at it on board o' the ship."

I was not in the mood for exchanging confidences as to my prospective
matrimonial affairs, and my silence must have said as much.

"Beggin' your pardon, sir; but seein' as 'ow you're a doctor, I wonder
if you 'appens to know our bloke in the _Jackass_?"

"Who, your doctor?"

"Yessir. Tall orficer 'e is, close on six foot 'igh, wi' black 'air,
wot jined the Navy special fur the war. Name o' Brown."

"I'm afraid I don't know him," I said, puzzling my brains to fit any
medical man of my acquaintance to his very loose description.

"'E's a fair corker, sir," my companion grinned.

"In what way?"

"The way 'e gits 'is leg pulled, sir."

I scented a story, and as there was still no flutter of a white skirt
down the slope to our right, I desired him to continue.

"Well, sir," he started, "it wus like this 'ere. The _Jackass_ is one
o' these 'ere light cruisers, and one mornin