Naval Occasions, and Some Traits of the Sailor-man

  *II.*

  The short November afternoon was drawing to a close as Ivor left theDockyard Bank with a shining sovereign gripped tightly in his trouserspocket. Dusk was settling down on the lines of store-houses, and fromthe Hamoaze below came the hoot of syrens that told of a fog sweeping infrom the Channel. Ivor strolled across the cobbles to where thefigurehead of a bygone frigate lifted an impassive countenance, and fromthe shelter of its plinth he surveyed the gateway. The main entrancewas closed, and the narrow door, that only admitted the passage of oneperson at a time, was guarded by a watchful policeman. It seemed as ifnothing short of a miracle would get a man in uniform through without apass.

  Presently a bell in some neighbouring tower struck the hour, and thewaiting man turned in the direction of the sound. The ships in thelower yard were invisible, only their top-masts appeared out of a fogthat came slowly swirling in from the sea. Higher and higher it crept;then suddenly the policeman at the gate was blotted out, and the wallbecame a towering blackness that loomed up through the vapour. StillIvor waited, holding his sovereign tightly, and wrestling with a coughthat threatened every minute to betray him. Some parties of liberty-mengoing on leave tramped past: he heard the gates open and saw for amoment the glare of the streets beyond. A couple of officers in plainclothes appeared suddenly into the blurred circle of his vision and wereswallowed again by the blackness. "What a fog!" he heard one say. Theother laughed, and grumbled something about being glad he was notChannel groping. Their voices died away, and Ivor emerged toreconnoitre, only to scurry back into shelter as a telegraph boy on abicycle steered a devious course past him across the cobbles. Thelittle disc of light from his lamp zigzagged to and fro for a minute andwas gone. Then Ivor heard the rumble of wheels and the clatter of ahorse's hoofs: the lights of a four-wheeler passed him and stopped. Thepoliceman was unbolting the gates.

  It was Ivor's chance, and, realising it, he slipped up beside the cab.Inside was a figure muffled in a greatcoat, above which he caught aglimpse of a clean-shaven, impatient face. Presently the inmate loweredthe further window and leant out, effectually interposing his body as ascreen between Ivor and the guardian of the gate.

  "Hurry up," he called; "I've got a train to catch."

  The gates swung slowly back, the cab rumbled through, and with it passedIvor Jenkins. Then for the first time he relinquished his grip on hissovereign, and permitted himself the luxury of a fit of uncheckedcoughing.

  "Bilked 'im," he gasped when he got his breath again, half-awed at theease with which he found himself in the strangely unfamiliar streets.At the corner of the side-street he turned and looked back at the grimwall. In the signal-tower that loomed above it into the murky sky theyeoman on watch had just tapped the key of the flashing lamp to test thecircuit. To Ivor it seemed as if Fate had winked at him, solemnly andportentously.

  * * * * *

  Ivor pushed through the swing-doors of the "Crossed Killicks" and lookedhastily round the bar.

  "'Ullo!...." he ejaculated blankly. "W'ere's Bella?"

  The girl behind the counter, a short, stout woman in a purple plushbodice, tossed her head. "'Er a'ternoon orf," she explained tartly.

  "Aye, but--w'ere's she gorn?"

  "Walkin' out with a Blue Marine. 'Ippodrome, I think, they was goin'."

  Ivor sat down and fumbled blindly in the lining of his cap for his pipe.Save for a spot of colour on either cheek-bone, his face was an uglygrey.

  "Fine upstanding feller, 'e was too," added the barmaid, weighing Ivorin the balance of comparison, and finding him somewhat wanting. Ivornodded dully, and for a while examined with apparently absorbed interestan advertisement on the wall opposite. Passion surged through him inwaves that made the skin of his forehead tingle. So she'd bilked himafter all: given him the go-by for a Blue Marine! Ivor knew him too,... had once even stood him a drink.... The Adam's-apple in his throatworked like a piston.

  Presently the girl behind the bar looked up from her occupation ofdrying glasses and eyed him curiously; but all she saw was a small darkman, who sucked hard at an empty pipe, one fist clenched tightly in histrousers pocket, staring hard at an advertisement for somebody's whisky.

  At length, out of the chaos of his thoughts, two courses of action tookshape and presented themselves for consideration. One was to bash theBlue Marine into irrecognition; the other was to get mercifully drunk assoon as possible. The Blue Marine, Ivor remembered, scaled a matter offourteen stone, so he chose the latter alternative, and for thirty-sixhours Oblivion, as understood by men of His Majesty's Forces, receivedhim into her arms.