Chapter III: Removed From the Navy List

"WELL?" asked Eccles, as Sub-lieutenant Basil Dacres came off to the ship at the expiration of his leave.

"Ripping time, by Jove! I'll tell you about it when you've done your trick. Is the commander below?"

Receiving an affirmative reply the sub made his way to Commander Bourne's cabin, bubbling over with suppressed excitement.

"I've done it, sir," he announced. "Spoofed the whole jolly lot of them, Admiral included."

"Hope you've covered up your tracks?" asked his superior anxiously.

"Rather! I snubbed Garboard, twitted Oxley and played the very dickens with the flagship's midshipmen. It was hot work, though. Fancy spending a couple of hours on a day like this with a pillow stuffed under your waistcoat, and false moustaches tickling like billy-ho."

Bourne laughed heartily as Dacres related the details of the joke he had played, but his face grew serious as he remarked:--

"'Pon my word, Dacres, I'm rather sorry I let you carry out this mad prank, after all. It's bound to leak out."

"It may, sir. If it does the flagship's people won't say much. The less they say the better, for they will be the laughing-stock of the squadron."

"I don't know so much about that," rejoined the commander. "You see, we must do our best to keep it to ourselves. The culprit must be screened. If there is a row, of course I must own up to my share."

"You must do nothing of the sort, sir," said the sub firmly. "This is my pigeon, you know. Anyway, they haven't tumbled to it yet, and when they do they'll have to go a long way to spot me."

During the First Dog Watch the commander told the captain, who laughed till the tears rolled down his mahogany-coloured cheeks. The chaplain had it third hand from the skipper, and passed the news on to the ward-room. As for the gun-room they heard it directly from Dacres.

So far so good. Loyalty to a brother officer joke a sure bond that the joke against the unpopular flagship would be kept a secret. But Jones, the captain's valet, heard his master and the padre laughing immoderately--was human enough to put his ear to the keyhole of the captain's cabin. In less than an hour the whole of the lower deck heard the yarn, and Mr. Dacres was unanimously acclaimed a "thunderin' brick."

Everything passed off quietly until the following afternoon. It was the calm before the storm.

Basil Dacres had just completed his trick as "Duty Sub," and was enjoying a cooling glass of lime juice in the gun-room when a signalman knocked at the door.

"Chit for Mr. Dacres, sir," he announced.

The sub held out his hand for the folded slip of paper. His intuition told him that something was amiss: it was.

"Flag to officer commanding H.M.S. 'Royal Oak.' Mr. Basil Dacres, sub-lieutenant, is to report himself on board the flagship as soon as possible."

Dacres said not a word to his messmates, but the deep flush that swept over his bronzed features told its own tale.

Without waiting to give explanations or to receive condolences or advice the sub hurried off to his cabin and changed into No. Eight Rig. In the midst of the operation Commander Bourne entered. He had, in the course of his duty, initialled the message and guessed its purport.

"Look here, Dacres," he exclaimed impulsively, "I'm going with you. There's bound to be a most unholy bust-up, I'm afraid; but I mean to stand by you."

For a moment the sub hesitated. He quite realized the need of a friend to back him up during the coming ordeal, but his independence quickly reasserted itself.

"I don't think you need, sir," he replied. "You see, it may be something else. In any case, I'd much rather I went through by myself."

"You would?"

"Yes, sir."

"But, look here, Dacres----"

"It's no use, sir. I'll stick to it somehow. What's the good of getting other men mixed up in this affair when one can bear the brunt. Sharing the blame will not make things any easier for me, I'm afraid. After all, I had a rattling good time."

There was a ring of determination in the sub's voice that compelled his superior officer to give way.

"Very well, then," said Bourne reluctantly. "You go alone. But, mark you, if there's to be any serious bother I, as your commander and a fellow conspirator, will stand by you."

"All right, then, sir," replied Dacres, "that's agreed. If I am in danger of going under I'll look to my superior officer for assistance."

Just then Eccles and Plumbly, the assistant paymaster, entered the cabin and expressed their intention of "standing in."

"Standing in--what about?" demanded Dacres.

"About hoaxing the flagship, of course," replied Eccles.

"You've done your part of the business," retorted the sub, "now let me carry on with mine. For one thing I'm not sure that the Admiral wants me in connexion with that affair. How on earth could he find out? Now sheer off, there's good fellows, and let me finish dressing."

Young Alderney was midshipman of the duty boats, and on the run to the "Repulse" he added his condolences till Dacres peremptorily cut him short. The sub hated outward expressions of sympathy almost as much as he detested formal praise. He vastly preferred in matters of this sort to be self-reliant.

Gaining the quarter-deck of the flagship he saluted with the utmost coolness, and turned to follow the lieutenant who was to escort him to the Admiral's cabin. Three or four youngsters, whom he recognized as being members of the French instructor's class, were on deck, evidently anticipating his discomfiture. Something about his bearing impelled them to return to the shelter of the after barbette, feeling rather sorry for the man who had so recently "pulled their legs."

Vice-Admiral Maynebrace was alone. He had sent his secretary away on some convenient duty, and well-nigh bursting with indignation he stood prepared for the fray.

"Well, sir," he began, as soon as the door was closed. "Do you recognize this?"

And he held up the pseudo Jean le Plaisant's card.

"Yes, sir," answered the sub calmly.

"Then, perhaps, sir, next time you have an opportunity to impersonate a French professor you might have the sense to remember that _littérateur_ is spelt with a double 't.' Had it not been for the perspicuity of the officer of the watch your senseless joke might have passed off undetected--at least for a time. Now, sir, you, on your own confession, have been guilty of the heinous offence of bringing his Majesty's uniform into contempt. A senseless joke, sir! There are no extenuating circumstances."

Admiral Maynebrace paused to recover his breath. He had completely forgotten his early days, when, a ringleader of a little mob of midshipmen from the guardship, he had gone ashore at Southampton in the small hours of the morning and had artistically decorated the two lions guarding the historic Bargate. Dacres had heard of the episode and how young Maynebrace was jockeyed out of what promised to be a serious scrape; and he was half tempted to remind his superior of that little delinquency, but the sub had steadfastly made up his mind not to say a word save to reply directly to questions put to him.

The Admiral had fully expected that the culprit would metaphorically go down on his knees and beg for pardon, but he had mistaken Dacres' character. The sub's silence and coolness goaded him to a further outburst.

"Confound you, sir!" he roared. "You're a discredit to the Service, sir. You have two alternatives: either to stand your trial by court-martial for unbecoming conduct, or to send in your papers. You understand?"

"Yes, sir," replied Dacres.

The pros and cons of the two alternatives flashed through his mind in a brief instant. He was fully convinced that the old martinet meant to have him kicked out of the Service. A court-martial could but bring in a verdict of guilty and with no extenuating circumstances. The publicity and disgrace were most undesirable. By resigning he might be able to make a fresh start in another sphere, without the taint of ignominy. His father's words, "Unless you stop this sort of thing there'll be trouble. It will end in your being court-martialled and kicked out of the Service. And, by Jove! if you are, don't look to me for sympathy," came home with redoubled force.

"I'll send in my papers, sir," he said steadily.

The Admiral looked searchingly at him as if to detect any signs of remorse in his words. There were none.

"Very good," he replied with an air of finality. "You may go, sir."

Vice-Admiral Maynebrace spent a restless night. Possibly it was the tropical heat, but more than once he thought of the young officer whose career was in jeopardy.

"If only the young fool had said he was sorry," he soliloquized, "I would have let him down lightly. Hang it! I'll send for him again in the morning and see if he's amenable to reason."

But when morning came, before the Admiral could carry out his good intention, Sub-lieutenant Basil Dacres' papers, duly annoted by his captain, were sent to the flagship accompanied by a written application for the young officer to be allowed to withdraw from his Majesty's Service.

The receipt of this document was received by both ships with feelings of regret. The officers of the flagship, in spite of the fact that they were indignant at the prank that had been played upon them, were good-natured fellows. They fully expected that the culprit would "climb down" and apologize for his delinquency; but they were mistaken. They had misjudged Dacres' peculiar temperament, for the sub, regarding himself as being with his back to the wall, was as obstinate as the proverbial mule. Now that the sub had taken the desperate plunge, they felt genuinely sorry.

As for the ship's company of the "Royal Oak" they were all completely taken aback. Dacres was a favourite with his brother-officers and well-liked by the Lower Deck. It seemed incomprehensible that the Admiral should take such a strong step; but it was not the first time that drastic measures were the result of comparatively slight offences against discipline.

At the eleventh hour Admiral Maynebrace sent a message to the "Royal Oak" to ask whether Sub-lieutenant Dacres had reconsidered the matter. In vain Captain Staggers tried to reason with his subordinate.

"Look here, Dacres," he said kindly. "Think over this affair. Remember your career is at stake. It was a silly thing to do to attempt to hoax the flagship, in spite of the circumstances. Of course you realize that we were in sympathy with you, but that was a mistake. If you think you are going to come out 'top-dog' in your difference with the Admiral the sooner you put that idea out of your head the better. I don't believe in the whole of naval history that a junior officer has done so with any degree of success. You see, it's against all principles of discipline."

"Thank you, sir," replied Dacres, "but I'm afraid you cannot understand my motives, and I cannot very well explain. All the same, I don't wish to withdraw my resignation; and as to scoring over the Admiral, well, the idea never entered into my head until you mentioned it. But I may, even yet," he added.

Nettled by the sub's refusal, the Admiral used the power entrusted to him under the revised King's Regulations. He accepted Dacres' resignation, without having to wait for Admiralty authority; and before noon on the same day Dacres ceased to be an officer of his Majesty's navy.

"Look here, Dacres," exclaimed Commander Bourne impetuously, "you're a young rotter. You remember what I said: 'If there's any serious bother I, your commander and fellow conspirator, will stand by you.' To that you agreed; so I'm off to the flagship to bear my share of the brunt."

Dacres looked at the commander for a few moments, then, doing what he would not have dared to do but an hour previously, he tapped him familiarly on the shoulder.

"Look here, Bourne," he said, "you are no longer my superior officer, so the deal's off. If you attempt to put your finger in my pie I'll give you the biggest hiding you've ever had in your life. So don't make matters worse, and I'll be thankful to one of the best pals I've ever had in the Service."

Bourne agreed reluctantly. He had fully intended to interview the Admiral, but now he was somewhat relieved to find that Dacres had vetoed the proposal. The commander's prospects were no longer in danger; and since Bourne's chances of promotion depended solely upon merit--for he had no outside influence--he was genuinely grateful for the principal culprit's magnanimity.

That same afternoon the squadron, with the exception of the "Royal Oak," weighed and proceeded to sea. The "Royal Oak" had developed slight engine-room defects and was left behind in order to effect necessary repairs.

Thus an opportunity occurred of giving a demonstration that otherwise could not have taken place; for as Dacres went over the side of the battleship for the last time the officers turned out on the quarter-deck to bid him good luck, while by a purely spontaneous impulse the men gave three rousing cheers for the youngster whom they could no longer regard as one of the ship's company of H.M.S. "Royal Oak."