MAIL DAY AT SEA

New Zealand Times, Volume XLII, Issue 9619, 27 March 1917, Page 8

MAIL DAY AT SEA

"Mail hoi’’ cheerily sings out the quar-ter-master, standing by the after gun. Two simple words, but with great magic in them. Heads instantly come popping up in all parts or our little ship. There follows a general scurry to tho side, and eyes turn eagerly in the direction in which the quarter-master points. "Whaur is sbef"-a-sks Stoker Mcßean, thrusting a grimy visage through the manhole which gives entrance to the region of nether fires in which Mcßean and others of his ilk labour strenuously during their turns "on watch.”.. ‘‘.Away yonder," answers a signalman. “Gi© s a call when she’s alongside,” and Mcßean’s coaly features disappear for the time. But. for one face withdrawn, a dozen others show up. As though attracted that way by a magnet, all eyes turn towards the approaching vessel; our whole ship’s company is agog with excitement. If you want to know why the coming of this stranger arouses such interest. the answer is that she is the mail boat bringing our tetters from home—and-just what that means to the war-exiled sailor man, well, you have got to bo one of him to understand. During the wait for tho vessel’s arrival one overhears men wondering "What’s she got for met” Also plenty of chaffing remarks about "tailor’s ■bills," “breach of promise writs’* and other ■ unwanted things go “chivvying” around.. But in spite of this indiscriminate "jollying,’ which is merely, the spray on tho surface, everyone in his innermost soul. ' feels hotly anxious as to what there may ho for him in the bulging sacks which he see* piled upon the mail - boat’s decks. For the sailor, who sees home least of all men, loves it most of all.

A SOLEMN RITUALAt last the mails are alongside and willing hands hoist them inboard. Then comes a tense period of expectancy as the skipper sorts over the contents of the bags. Every man who can do so attends the distribution, and in the next few minutes one sees a picture worthy the brush of a great artist—that would, in fact, be a splendid subject for such a one. A little pile of official letters is pushed aside. They can wait until all the others have been given out. His own private ones the skipper lays apart as he comes to' them, promising himself a glorious half-hour in his cabin with these welcome companions as soon as he get away with them, and the higher the pile the happier he looks. "Petty Officer Sanders, * calls the skipPe “H>re, sir,” and a brawny hand shoots eut. The letters are thrust into it and Sanders turns joyfully away. _ "Simpson, A. 8..” and . another eager hand darts from. the waiting circle. 'Mcßean, stoker.” “Thhfs me, sir,” and into Mcßean s vilv paw a parcel is given. , „ "High tea in th mess to-night. Sandy, jocularly remarks a. messmate. "ATI see what's inside aiore I tells ye that,’*’ eannilr answers Sandy. And so the distribution goes on until the "post” is cleared. For one a bundle of papers and a letter from for another a parcel with some o mother's cooking” inside it. To wateh the faces of those whoi have received letters and are reading them affords an interesting study in expressions. As they go off with their treasures (real Measures. too. mind you, that will be care fullv preserved in ditty boxes, read and re-read dozens of times), their features fairly glow with varying emotions. And the countenances of those to whom the mail brings nothing! Well if ever one saw disappointment writ large it la upon them. ■ _ , , "Gimme your envelope, asks one sne-h of a chum who has just opened a lottei The envelope is handed over, and the recipient after reading the address from various angles, scans the postmark and tries ’to solace his longings by figuring out when the missive was posted and how long it took to reach its destination. Now you must know that to a sailor reading a letter from home becomes somewhat of a ritual. He does not like to do it in the usual fashion in vogue among shore folk. First he turns the envelope over and over,' feels its thickness, examines the postmark, and then carefully rips open the flap and for the next five minutes or so grows oblivious to all things around him. : "Listen, Bill,” exclaims a burly far as he proceeds to read out a passage describing something which "my little Maggie” has said or done. "She’s only a kid o’ five, y’ know.” he adds in a tone of proud fondness, which shows that to her far away daddy "Maggie” is the most wonderful little girl in the whole world. Thus encouraged. Bill retails a passage from his letter, and so the exchanges continue, the men who were lettterless gradually sidling up and listening with hungry ears to these tit-bits from home.

Frequently a sailor whose correspond, onco contains nothing of a very private nature will push it across to a messmate with a request "Take a read at that.” This the messmate will promptly do with is much interest as if the whole thing had been written to him personally. Barely does one find a man churlish -mbugln, to keep all the good things to himself, and this cood-natured "lending” of letters or publishing their contents goes far to mak© up for the slackness of less fortunate friends.

Sailors’ correspondents, especially of the gentler sex, frequently drop into poetry. “Hear this,” says a yenng A. 8.. rend irw from a letter from his girl. "She sez:—

‘‘ 'The skr is high, the sea is deep, A sailor's heart is hard to keep; For when you think you have him won. He’ll leav© you where vonr first begun,' ‘What d'you think of that, eh?” "P’raps ©he's heard o’ you cuttin' loose wi’ them Scorp gals in th’ Eock?” suggests Jim humorously, and the. A.B. grins. as he dips back into his letter. Only a sample, this, of the verso which such letters contain. Probably not )0 per cent, of the amatory ones are without some such effusion; though they are none the less welcome for that.

It goes without saying that the post does not always bring pleasant news, even to a sailor But viewed in its broad aspect mail day is joy day aboard ship. And this should have its lesson for the people at home. If only these would realise how anxiously the arrival of the mail boat is looked forward to, what extreme pleasure a letter from friends asore gives to the men in far-away seas fighting for the home they have not seen for probably over a couple of years, and may never see again, how even tha most inconsequential chit-chat is welcomed with avidity so long as it is about home, they would never omit to write.— "Daily Mail,"