SHIPS THAT PASS

New Zealand Times, Volume XLIV, Issue 10331, 14 July 1919, Page 2

SHIPS THAT PASS

NOBBY DEMOBILISED PROM THE NAVY. H.M.S. PERMANGANATE. ‘'You needn’t worry about your baggage,” said the-station master. “Nobby’s home! I’ll send him up with it.” “Not dear old Nobby!” I exclaimed; and as I watched the tail-lights of the train vanish into the night I strove to recall the gentleman referred to. “Yes, old Nobby!” he repeated. “Got his papers last week, and came back to the old job on Monday. . . . Pourpenoo ha’penny excess, and some idiot’s given me his return half. . . . He was in the Reserve, you know. I lay ho finds portering a bit tame after four years of Navy.” Ten minutes I s.at on my trunk, and then out of the night came Nobby, with a jubilant song on his lips and still more jubilant feet. But whether ho had been in the sun or was suffering from demob on the brain I could not discover. “Come aboard, sir!” he bellowed, and dumped his barrow by p, lamp-post. “We’ll put thq big trunk so, and the little 'un so, and then she’ll trim bettor. Now then, forward all! Paddle!” And we went down the station slope at a rate of knots.' ■ “Stabbard a trifle!” shouted Nobby at the corner, “In oars! 'Way enough I” The barrow stopped dead. “I can’t get the hang of it somehow,” said the ex-sailor. “She steers wild, and, if you ask me, we’re down by the head more than’s good for us. Bettor stow that big. box amidships.” WATER-CART ADMIRAL. We covered about a hundred yards in, slow time, then rested for a little while. Nobby sat on the shafts and told me the story of his life, twice; how at the age of four he had run away to sea, hut lost his way; how he subsequently saw the error of his ways and became an acolyte at St. Bridget’s round the corner; and how at 18 he obtained a post as admiral on a watercart under tho flag of the district council. “I’ve always had a hankering after the sea,” he said. “That why X became a railway porter. Folkestone’s on our line, you know.” “And I’ll-tell you another thing”— the barrow stopped dead once more — “a little hit of secret history of the war * ! . “D’you know —now, you won t let this go any further; - D’you know why between you and me this is—why stationmasters never grow whiskers? You don’t?, Well, now, you watch! They never do. ’ You never sec a stationmaster with whiskers. A little thin pointy beard, p’raps, but not whiskers. Not fine bunchy stuff with birds’ nests in it. . “And why?” asked Nobby. ‘ Why? Because a stationmaster never knows when the King’s coming through his station. And when he does he gets_ a tiepin. And what’s the good, of a tiepin with whiskers ?’’ Nobby stepped back a pace and put a cautionary finger on his lips. , “That’s why!” he said. ‘Between you and mo. But not a word, mind! I promised, and for the length of two streets the barrow went well, so long as 1 kept a watchful eye on what Nobby called “the gunnel.’’ As we turned a sharp corner the ex-sailor suddenly gasped, swore, and stopped dead. . __. _ LIGHTS AHEAD.

“Back water,” he whispered fiercely. “Helm hard over, for the love of Mike, and hold her for all you’re worth. Uo hung desperately to the handles, panting with excitement. ' . . “That was a near onel ho said. “Nearly Davy Jones for us. Wish la put my lifebelt on. ... Dock a her I Light cruiser dead ahead and bung in the fairway.” _ 1 ~ He pointed towards the end of the road; where- red and green lights shone out of the darkness. ' , “That’s all right,” I said. Let s get a move on. I want to go to bed. its only a, chemist’s shop.’ “Light cruiser,” said Nobby. “Chemist's shop,” I repeated. “Where they sell you bile beans and tooth brushes and dill water.” “Don’t yon l>oliov© it, s&id .Nobby* “Four years I’ve been fighting the Hun on the East Coast, with a spyglass, and I know him. It’s a trap. They’re luring ns on. . . . But we’U do ’em yet,” he chuckled. “Leave it to me. We’ll do ’em. .• . What is it the Admiralty order says? Creen to green and red to red—How does it g o jj—Q u t the traces and sit on head. .. . No, that’s wrong. i'vo got it mixed. “Green to green and red to red“Push the old .barrow and get home to bed,” I suggested. “Pull yourselt together, Nobby. That’s a chemist s shop.” ‘ ‘lt’s a trap,’ suggested Nobby. “And we’ve got to get round it somehow. Let me think. Red to red and green to green. Bust her in two and. go between. Green to green and red to rod, stop whofo you are or you'll soon bo dead. That’s me. Well sit tight until the danger’s past, and then in the morning we’ll go round Whitehall and draw our Albert Medals with the barrow.” “SINKING FAST,” With which Nobby perched himself on that vehicle and lit a cigarerto. Fourteen times X told him it was a chemist’s shop, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “Look here,” I said at last. 1 m going forward to see what it really is,” I sprinted up the road and dashed into the shop, where the apothecary was mixing a potion behind the screen. “It’s all right,” I said. “There’s nobody dead—yet. What time do you shut?’,' "Ten,” said the chemist, and I dashed out again. It wonted five minutes of that hour. “You wore quite right,” I told Nob by. It’s a light cruiser, H.M.S. Permanganate, broken down with engine trouble. But it’ll be all right wv a few minutes. She’s sinking fast.”’ “Told you so,” said Nobby, trium phantly. “Four years I’ve been ni the Navy, on the East Coast, all among the bunny rabbits; and there isn’t much I don’t know about it. 1 suppose wo can’t help ’em. . . . .” But even as ho spoke the lights ol the chemist’s shop, the big red and green bottles, faded slowly as the gas was turned down behind them and slowly died. Nobby stared spellbound. “She’s gone,” ho muttered. “Broke her hack and gone. Heaven save us all from a death like this on the reef of Norman’s Woo. . . . But what a night 1 What a dreadful night 1” _ He slowly’ moistened his hands, gripped the barrow, and began to shove. . “And then they want to know what the Navy’s doing!” ho said—-F. W. Thomas, in London “Daily Nerva.”