DIED ET MON DROIT

Evening Star, Issue 21056, 19 March 1932, Page 18

DIED ET MON DROIT

- EERIE TALE OF MIDDLE WATCH Darkness still lay on the face of the waters, and as yet the east had not signalled the coming of the dawn to the anchored ship (writes 111. A. Anjard). Even the duty watch, weary with long watchkeeping, slept. The officer of the watch breathed uneasily in a deck chair on tho bridge as destroyer D 39 swung to the murmuring, flowing tide. Nearby, facing tho dimly illuminated dial of the ship’s _ clock, the quartermaster slept on his feet as he leaned against the little desk, on which tho light breeze ruffled the pages of the logbook. Twice a page of the logbook turned over and brushed the nose of the quartermaster, making his face twitch sleepily. It was a big, porous nose, the keynote of the expression of the quartermaster’s weather-beaten face. Three hundred yards away, in the blackness of the harbour, a tiny tongue of flame licked up into the night and was withdrawn again. Then came another, and another, and another—little flames preceding the burst of fire which enwrapped the old hulk of the storeship, and threw its yellow glory across the ruffled sea. Out of the night came the rattle of rowlocks, and a voice from a naval whaleboat, “ Ship ahoy.” Half a dozen pages stirred by the light breeze flicked" the nose of the quartermaster again. He blinked himself awake, thinking that the world was afire. “ Ship ahoy, ship ahoy, D 39 ahoy.” Thoroughly roused, the quartermaster stared at the flaming hulk as the voice from tho boat ordered: “ Four men for the fire party.” “Aye, aye, sir,” replied the quartermaster. “ They’ll he here in a minute.” “ Haven’t you called them yet?” “ Yes, sir,” lied the quartermaster, rushing away. After hurriedly awakening four of the crew he gently shook the recumbent form of Lieutenant Burleigh, tho duty officer of the watch, who was still soundly asleep in the deck chair on tho bridge. “ Did you call me before?” asked tho surprised youthful officer, as soon as ho had learned the reason for the hubbub. “Yes, sir, I did,” said tho quartermaster. His hard face showed no sign of the ready lie that came so easily to his sailor’s lips. “You did call me?” the youthful face seemed to grope uncertainly in an endeavour to remember having been called. “ Are you sure, quartermaster?” Ho gazed, up at the quartermaster critically, quizzically, searching the blank, expressionless face of the older man of the sea. “ Quite, sir. You told me to call tho fire party.” Tho quartermaster looked round as the men emerged from tho hatchway, pulling on their jackets and caps. “ Hero they come, sir, now.” Lieutenant Burleigh leaned on the bridge rail, watching the four sailors tumble into the boat alongside to join the fire-fighting party. Together the quartermaster and the officer watched the whaleboat move off towards the blazing ship. Other little boats were converging on the huge flower of flame blazing up into the night, with its sparks drifting away on the light breeze. All thoughts of the fire seemed to have left tho mind of the officer, but his face remained puzzled. He turned again to the quartermaster, and hesitated slightly before ho asked: “Are you sure you called?” “ Quite, sir. You were a bit hard to wake at first.” “ That’s funny,” said the officer. “ [ haven’t the slightest recollection of having been called.” “You just answered me and went to sleep again, sir.” “ Went to sleep again? ” “ Yes sir.’’ “ Went to sleep again.” The young officer did not seem to be able to grasp the significance of the statement of the quartermaster. He could not remember over having been so tired as to go to sleep again after having been called in an emergency. “That’s funny,” ho mused. “ Yes, sir,” replied the quartermaster politely. “ What’s that? ” snapped the officer. “ What you said, sir. Funny.” “ But it’s not funny.’’ “ No, sir,” stumbled the quartermaster, ready to be polite either way. Anyway, service was service, and bo had to bo polite. “ What do you mean? ” “ It’s not funny, sir.” “It certainly is not. It’s damned serious. Did you ever know me to do that before? ” _ “ No, never, sir. This is the first time.” “ The first time,” repeated the officer, dazedly, as if trying to analyse himself and his reactions on being awakened in times past. “ That will do. quartermaster.” “ Very good, sir.” The quarter-

master saluted sharply/and walked slowly to tho end of the bridge, where he looked out into the night at tho dying fires of the doomed ship still throwing fitful flames into the night, amid tho cloud of steam that belched up from the streams of water playing on tho great hulk. Two hours later Destroyer D 39 was under way, steering toward the east, where the first break of dawn was pouring a faint light across the loping seas. A shadowy tramp steamer showed up in silhouette against the watery sky line. Standing at tho bridge rail, Lieutenant Burleigh gazed straight ahead, fixedly, without looking to right or left. At tho wheel tho quartermaster divided his attention between the compass and the tramp steamer speeding at right angles to the course of the destroyer. Several minutes passed, and the quartermaster grew restless as he waited for the officer to give orders to alter the course of tho destroyer. Somewhere ahead those two ships would meet. With his sailor’s eyo tho quartermaster became increasingly apprehensive of the certainty of a collision. “ Steamer on the port how. bow, sir.” “ Can’t I see it? ” snapped the officer. The quartermaster was silent. Ho stroked his long nose wisely, and pulled his cap down over his eyes, gazing again at the tramp steamer. Only a few hundred yards now separated tho approaching vessel. The quartermaster was more keenly alive to tho odds against missing a collision. But he was also well disciplined, and he awaited tho order to change the course of the destroyer, wondering how long it would he before the officer became alive to the danger. In his time he had known officers to wait till the last minute before altering course. Perhaps Burleigh had guessed that he had not been called, and wished to get a little of his own hack. Even that thought fled from the mind of tho quartermaster as the ships neared each other. “ Shall I alter course, sir?” There was a world of arrogance in Burleigh’s voice as he snapped out; “When I tell you.’ The quartermaster now told himself that the destroyer would hit the tramp ship exactly amidships. Discipline and common sense fought its long battle in the mind of the quartermaster—and discipline won. Straight ahead steamed the destroyer, tho seas purling gently from her bow. There would be a collision all right. Nothing surer. _ One more effort to arouse his superior. “Shall I alter course, sir?” “Who’s in charge?” snapped the officer. He turned round and stared savagely at the man at the wheel. “Who’s in charge?” he repeated. “Yon are, sir.” “Well, wait for it,” roared the officer, shaking. ‘lt’s coming, sir,” replied tho quartermaster. “Bight amidships.” And in that moment it came. The bow of the destroyer bent like a piece of tin as she crashed into the lumbering tramp. Both ships shuddered on the still, dawnlit sea. A shout went up, and men poured out to the two decks to learn what had happened. The engines stopped amid the din of telegraph hells. Pulling on his dressing gown as he came, the captain rushed on to the bridge of the destroyer. “How did this happen?” he asked, looking from the quartermaster to the officer. “ I gave the order to alter course,” said Burligh, with a troubled look on his face. So that was it, thought tho quartermaster. He was going to blame him. One must be very coo! now, or one would he sure to go under. A man had not much chance against an officer. When the captain bent a curious gaze on the quartermaster he replied with: “I’d like to be relieved to explain.” Ho did explain to tho captain’s satisfaction. At the next port Burleigh wont ashore to an inquiry, and he did not join the ship again. In the middle watches on many ships tho quartermaster sometimes told the story of the fire and the collision. “ You see,” ho would say, “ ho couldn’t get over bein’ called and goin’ to sleep again without knowin’ it. It got on his mind, mates. And he got so flummoxed he didn’t know what to do when lie saw that tramp, because he didn’t like mo tellin’ him what to do. The quacks said he had a touch o’ nerves. Too much o’ the North Sea. “ But you didn’t call him for the fire?” someone would always pipe up. The quartermaster would only smile at this. “ A man must save himself. It was him or me. We were botli asleep. I won. That’s all.” Tho quartermaster gazed at the French words on the gun,_ “ Dion ct mou droit,’ and nodded his head. There it j s —the Navy’s matter: “Hang you, Jack, I’m all right. I wouldna lost me job if he’d found out. Ho was such a nice young fellcr-mc lad, too. I was real sorry for him. Many a good man cracked up in the Dover patrol.” Reminiscently lie would add ; “ Many a good man, mates.”