CHAPTER IV
The Interrupted Concert
Transport 99, otherwise the S.S. _Awarua_, was a single-screw vesselof 8000 tons. Originally a combined passenger and cargo boat, shehad been ruthlessly converted into a troop-conveying ship, and theinternal rearrangements were not by any means suitable for her newrole. Nevertheless, after the first few days, when many of the menwere prostrate with sea-sickness, the troops soon accustomedthemselves to their new conditions, and settled down with the fixeddetermination to make the voyage a sort of maritime picnic.
"Say, Quarter," began Fortescue, addressing theQuartermaster-sergeant, "how about a sing-song on the mess deck thisevening? Most of the boys have found their sea-legs, and there's nolack of talent."
"Good idea!" replied the Q.M.S. "We'll form ourselves into anentertainment committee. Let me see: there's Sergeant Thomson, he'sa bit of a vocalist."
"Unfortunately he shot his false teeth over the side last night,"reported Malcolm. "He was so jolly bad that he never realized hisloss till this morning. He's out of it, I fancy."
"We'll put him down anyway," declared Fortescue. "There's M'Kie andMacdonald: they'll open with a duet on the bagpipes."
Other names were submitted and approved, not-withstanding the factthat their owners were not consulted on the matter.
"How about the officers?" enquired Selwyn. "They are to be invited,I suppose?"
"Rather," replied Fortescue. "By the way, what has LieutenantNicholson been doing to get his left optic in a sling? He wasn'tlooking skywards out of one of the ports when Thomson jettisoned hisivories?"
"Dunno," replied the M. S. "He was all right when he went the roundslast night."
"I know," chipped in another N.C.O. "It was the Padre."
"The Padre!" exclaimed half a dozen voices. "Our Padre beenscrapping?"
"Hardly!" was the reply. "He shares a two-bunk berth with theLieutenant. Padre has, or had, the upper bunk, and he tops the scaleat sixteen stone. I don't insinuate, mind you, that any of thefellows tampered with the ironwork, but all the same the bunkcollapsed, and our Padre subsided heavily upon poor littleNicholson."
"We'll get the company poet to write up a special stanza and reciteit at the concert," declared Fortescue. "Sort of object lesson onthe way our Padre tackles sin."
The men, remembering that the Lieutenant's initials were S.I.N.,laughed uproariously. These impromptu concerts gave them poeticlicence to joke at the expense of their officers. The latter, too,were quite used to that sort of thing. In fact they enjoyed it. Eventhe popular Padre found these entertainments a welcome antidote tothe dull business of censoring letters.
The concert--as far as it went--was a huge success. According to_The Deep Sea Roll_, the Thirty-somethingth's magazine, the openingitems and the honorary reporter's notes were as follows:--
"A duet by the brothers Mac. I thought they would never finish, duemainly to Macdonald, who had his Scotch blood up and his bagpipes ingood wind."
"Sergeant Thomson next stepped into the ring and gave 'Thora' a slapup. It was a pity he lost his teeth, but, thank goodness, he has notlost his voice."
"Tiny Anderson's voice was like his size--tremendous. 'Asleep in theDeep' was his song. I thought he _was_ asleep at one part of it."
There was no lack of enthusiasm on the part of the audience. Themen, packed like sardines in a barrel, filled the mess-deck almostto suffocation, their boisterous applause increasing in volume asitem succeeded item in quick succession.
"Item seven--Cornet Competition," announced Sergeant Fortescue."Sisters Howard and O'Dowd have kindly consented to act as judges."
Prolonged sounds of cheering greeted the two Red Cross nurses asthey stepped upon the platform with marked timidity. They wouldperhaps--and did--unhesitatingly and calmly assist the medicalofficers in their work of mercy and within range of hostile shells,but their present task was an ordeal.
Four strapping young fellows, each armed with a highly-polishedcornet, appeared and stood facing their critical audience, receivingtheir caustic comments with a studied indifference.
"Rifleman Gilway."
Rifleman Gilway advanced two paces, lifted the instrument to hislips, and distended his cheeks. Beyond an eerie gurgle ("the lastgasp of a dying flounder", according to the above-quoted honoraryreporter) not a sound came from the cornet. The audience, rockingwith laughter, threw shouts of encouragement and advice to thewould-be musician, but all in vain. Rifleman Gilway's eyes wereriveted upon the half of a cut, juicy lemon displayed within sixinches of his face by a waggish subaltern. The sight of the acidfruit effectually prevented the man getting a single note out of theinstrument. He puffed and blew like a grampus, the tears ran downhis distended cheeks, and the perspiration oozed from his forehead,till in disgust he retired from the contest.
Cornet No. 2 shared the same fate, after a gallant struggle. By thistime the audience was almost silent. The men could laugh no longer.They were almost on the verge of hysterical tears of excessivemerriment.
The third competitor withdrew without an effort, but the fourth wassomething of a strategist. He used his music-card as a screen toshut out the sight of the tantalizing lemon. By so doing he had tolean forward slightly. His cheeks were bulging, but againsilence--mysterious silence.
Compared with Rifleman Gilway's efforts those Of Corporal Jephsonwere simply terrific. His whole frame shook under the tremendousforce of lung power. The doctor began to shift uneasily in hischair, anticipating a case of apoplexy. Jephson's face graduallychanged in colour fro light bronze to a deep purple. Something hadto go----
Something did! From the interior of the instrument a wad of paperwas ejected with the velocity of a stone from a catapult. In itswake followed, a compact mass of viscous substance. Both struck thewaggish subaltern full in the face, and then the nature of the "maincharge" became apparent. It was treacle. A practical joker hadprimed Jephson's cornet with the sticky stuff, plugging it with awad. Amidst renewed outbursts of cheering the subaltern retired forrepairs and renewals, while the lady judges were fortunately sparedthe task of bestowing the palm upon the cornet champion of theThirty-somethingths.
More songs followed, then a series of recitations bearing uponincidents and characters on board Transport No. 99. Many of thereferences were pointedly personal; the victims enjoyed them as muchas anyone, for it is difficult to raise a New Zealander's "dander"by means of a practical joke. And when the reciter commenced astring of verses portraying the catastrophe in the cabin shared byLieutenant Nicholson and the Padre, the former's "Hear, hear!" andthe latter's deep bass laugh were heard above the roars of hilarity.
The composer of the verses had turned the accident into a work ofintent on the Padre's part, representing the latter combating theevil influence of sin. The reciter began with slight hesitation;then, finding that he was receiving unstinted approval, he warmed upto his task.
"Sin turned in, and soon was heard the music of his snore, And then the Padre set to work as none had worked before. He got a large belaying-pin, he got the vessel's lead, And everything that weighed at all he piled upon the bed. He took the screws out, one by one, that held the fixing frail, Till all that stood 'twixt him and Sin was but a single nail. Then with a fierce look in his eye, as one who thirsts for blood, He hurled his weight upon the bunk--there came a sickening thud----"
Crash!
The old _Awarua_ shook under the terrific impact of an unseen force,listed to starboard, and then slowly recovered, to heel to port.Simultaneously every electric light on the ship was extinguished,while above the noise of escaping steam arose the babel of hundredsof voices as the swarm of humanity slithered in a struggling massalong the sloping floor of the mess deck.
"Torpedoed, by Jupiter!" shouted a voice. The ominous words weretaken up by others, and in the darkness an ugly rush was made forthe upper deck.