SIR GALAHAD.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XL, Issue 1, 4 January 1908, Page 20

SIR GALAHAD.

(By JOHN BARTON OXFORD.) It was with something distinctly in the nature of a shock that I recognised, after a close scrutiny of the battered figure which hailed me hilariously from one of the benches in the little park, the grinning features of “Pink” Mulvill. One arm dangled in a sling; a green eye-shade covered his badly swollen and discoloured left eye; and as he rose to greet me, he hobbled stiffly forward with the aid of a cane. “In heaven’s name, what now!” I said, as he grasped my hand and wrung it effusively. Mulvill drew me towards the bench chuckling at my perplexity. “ ’Tis a rare fine mornin’ to be loafin’ in the sun,” said he. “Sit here with me for a bit, if you’ve nothin’ better to do, an’ I’ll give you all the harrowin’ details.” I sat down on the bench, and Mulvill gingerly engineered himself into a seat beside me, not without sundry twistings of his face and many half smothered groans, which plainly bespoke a great weariness of the flesh. Once finally settled, he turned to regard me, a rueful smile curving his lips and a quiet twinkle showing in his undamaged eye. “The beginnin’ of it all,” quoth he, “goes back to the day of the Outin’ Club’s picnic. We was cornin’ back on the boat, band playin’, corks poppin’ an’ everybody overflowin’ with the joy of the occasion. Me an’ Annie Coogan was sittin’ together in a quiet nook aft by the flagstaff on the upper deck, watchin’ the lights of the island grow fainter an’ fainter astern, an’ lookin’ at the reflection of the stars in the water. “What with the fine night that it was, the band playin’ waltz music on the lower deck an’ Annie there beside me, lookin’ pretty as a flower in her white duck dress, the tongue of me loosened up, an’ I began talkin’ very earnest to her, an’ once I was started, the more I talked the earnester I got. “She sat there listenin’ very quiet, her chin in her two little hands an’ her eyes lookin’ out over the w’ater, while I rattled on, goin’ in deeper every minute, till all at once I saw her shoulders shake once or twice, an’ at that I rung off. “ ‘This is where she gives me the haha,’ thinks I, ‘an’ it served me darned well right? An’ 1 pulls out a cigarette an’ lights it, very cosual, my mind made

up to pass it off as a joke when she threw me. “ ‘Gets to your funny-bump, don’t it?’ says I, not meanin’ to let her start the merry-makin’. “She turns round to me, very slow, an’ I saw there was somethin’ shinin’ in her eyes. Say, that got me, right off. I was that unprepared for it I near swallered the cigarette, for I’d never figured I’d have a ghost of a chance with Annie. I grabbed the rail with both hands; my head wa» so light I was afraid I’d float off the deck. “ ‘Mike, says she, sorter pleadin’, ‘if you was only diff’rent? “ ‘l’ll be diff’rent, says I, the heart of me bangin’ my ribs like a trip-hammer. “She shrugged her shoulders. ‘lf I could only b’lieve you really meant it,’ she goes on. ‘lf I thought you’d cut out that wild crowd you travel with, an’ brace up an’ get a decent job, an’ be half a man— ’ “Just then that sawed-off Casey person, who lives in the same block she does, come along to claim her for a waltz on the lower deck, an’ with a little laugh she got up an’ walked off with him, leavin’ me there, too dazed to think of wringin’ the neck of him for buttin’ in. “Say, the rest of the trip up, I was a dirigible balloon, for fair. I walked about like a man in a trance, an’ I spilled the milk of human kindness promiscuous wherever I went. I didn’t even file any objections when the Casey person saw her home from the boat, after we’d got in, for while they was walkin’ off together, she turned to me an’ sung out. ‘Don’t forget, Mike,’ an’ give me a meanin’ nod that sent me soarin’ again. “An* that is how I come to light out next mornin’, with the soul of me that virtuous it seemed out of place, an’ my eye peeled for any job that would show I was willin’ to work if I got the chance. “But ’twas an off season for jobs just then, an’ never a one could I get near enough to make friends with, though I pulled every string that was hangin’ out and went the rounds thorough, from Butch Devine down. “At last in despair I went down to Terry Cronin’s. ’Twas a forlorn hope, an’ I didn’t count on anything cornin’ of it. Terry heard me through, an’ shook his head. “ ‘The only thing I know of? says he. ‘is some advertisin’ dodge that Noonan is workin’ up. You might go an’ see him. ’Twould be no harm done, at any rate. Here's the address? An’ he passes it to me. “So off I goes hot-foot an’ digs up Noonan. ‘Sure, I can give you a job,’ says Noonan, when I’d found him, ‘but it’ll be nothin’ that you’ll be wantin’? “ ‘What’s the nature of it?’ says I. “ ‘We want a man to dress up in armour an’ ride round town, to advertise our coffee,’ says he. ‘“How much is there in it?’ I asks. He told me. “ ‘All right, I’ll take it? says I. ‘When shall I start?’ “He looks me over, incredulous. ‘What do you want of a job, anyway?’ says he. ‘What’s the matter with the game? Don’t they bite now?’ “ ‘l’ve cut it? says I, ‘an’ I’m takin’ a job for me soul’s good? “‘The h— you are!’ says he, laughin’. ‘Well, if you really want it, be up to Johnson’s stables at eight in the mornin’. I’ll have your traps up there for you. You ain’t kiddin’, are you?’ he asks, suspicious. “ ‘Dead sure I ain’t? says I. ‘l’m much obliged for the chance. An’ I blows out an’ writes a note to Annie, tellin’ her I’ve got a job, which, while it ain’t just what I’m lookin’ for, I shall hold down till I get something better. “Next mornin’ at eight I goes up to the stables, an’ there I finds a young duffer waitin’ for me. “ ‘Hello? says he, ‘this must be Sir Galahad? “ ‘l’m the victim, if that’s his name? says I. “ ‘All right, come on? says he. An’ he leads the way into an empty stall, in one corner of which was what looked like a pile of tin. “‘I take it that’s the armour?’ says I quizzical. “ ‘That’s the answer? says he. ‘Now then, let’s get you into it? “I off with my coat an’ vest, an’ at it-b otwae uaf!o dd!w, fiojdo of shrr it we went. In ten minutes you’d ’a’ needed a can-opener to get a squint at me. The feller buckled an’ strapped an* laced, an’ when he at last had me done, he stood off an’ looked at me grinnin’.

“ ‘You're a winner,’ says he. ‘Ho, there, varlets! The steed V Two hostlers brought out the horse, which was all covered up with a sort of fly-cloth, except for two holes which was cut out for his eyes. All over it in big red letters was the words: DRINK SIR GALAHAD COFFEE. Then between ’em, the armour bein' too heavy for me to mount alone, they boosted me to the high-backed saddle. “ ‘Now’ for your good lance an’ your trusty shield, an’ you’ll be all ready,’ says the feller. An’ he goes into the stall an’ comes out, carrying a long lance, with a red pennon flappin' at the top of it, an’ a big shield with a lion painted on it. Under the lion in red letters was the motto: My strength is as the strength of ten, because my Mocha and Java are pure. “ ‘Keep to the main streets an’ avenues,’ says the feller, passin’ the shield an’ the lance up to me. ‘Get your lunch whenever you like, an’ be back here at half-past five. Now then, my bold knight, off you go!’ “He gave the horse a playful smack with the flat of his hand, an’ away we went —armour clankin’, pennon wavin’, an’ everybody near cranin’ their necks out to get a glimpse at us as we went by. “All that mornin’ I rode about, up one street, down another —sometimes at a walk, sometimes at a gallop —but wherever we went we was the centre of attraction all right. “About noon I found we were close to the block where Annie Coogan lived, an' it came to my mind ’twould be a good idea to show her I wasn’t afraid to take Mie first job I could lay my hands on. So I turned the horse into the alley that led back of the block. Sure enough, there she was, waterin’ her geraniums on the fire-eseape in the third story. I struck spurs to the horse, galloped down the alley, an’ drew up with a flourish beneath her windows. “ ‘What ho, damsel ?’ I sings out, loud an’ jubilant. ‘Behold your unworthy knight ?’ “I waves my lance an’ pushes back the visor of my helmet, expectin’ to hear her laugh that ripplin’ laugh of hers; but when I looked up, there she stood, clutchin’ the railin’ of the fire-escape in both hands, her eyes throwin’ sparks an’ her face white with anger. “‘So that’s your job, is it?’ she says in a low voice. ‘I expected you to do a man's work, not a monkey’s. I might have known better.’ With that, she made as if to step through the open window behind her. “‘Aw, wait a minute, Annie!’ says I ‘l’ve got a couple of tickets to the Firemen’s Ball to-night, an’ I come round to ask you if you’d go with me.’ “ ‘Thanks,’ says she, cold as an lets* berg, ‘but Mr. Casey has given me an invitation, which I shall accept.’ “Before I could say anything more, she stepped inside, an’ the window was shut with a bang. ’Twas a good two minutes before I come out of the trance that she’d thrown me into, but when I did, I clapped the spurs to the beast, an’ we went out of the alley at a pace that brought heads out of every window in the block. Down the street we went at a mad gallop, an* turned into the avenue. “People on the crossin’s broke right an’ left an’ run screamin’ to shelter; carriages and trucks pulled close to the curb to give us plenty of room; two cops jumped at the horse’s head, but both missed it an’ went sprawlin’ on the pavements. “ ‘Here,’ says I to myself, ‘is where my job comes to a finish, an’ if I come to a finish with it, so much the better!’—• for I was crazy mad, an’ all I wanted w’as trouble of one sort or another. “Along we sped, me prickin’ the brute with the spurs at every other step, an’ he tearin’ along as if he’d lost his senses. Ahead of me I saw a jam of trucks an’ carriages, so I swung him into a cross street, an’ presently we come to the water-front. “All at once I heard a great yellin’ an’ cussin’. I looked up. Before us at the gates at one of the piers was an ugly mob, swingin’ clubs an’ howlin' their throats out. As I watched ,they made a rushed for the closed gates an’ done their best to bust ’em open. Behind the fence I could hear someone screamin’ ‘Turn the hose on ’em! Get the hose!’ “In a flash it came to me what it meant. All the stevedores along the water-front was on a strike. Some scabs was evidently tryin’ to load or unload a steamer, an' here was a mix-up, for fair. Say, I felt as if a ton of lead had

been lifted off me, for here was just what 1 was lookin’ for. All 1 wanted was a chance to mix in. Which side I took was all one to me, so long as I got plenty of trouble. “1 let out a yell, an’ rode straight for the crowd at the gate. You’d oughter seen ’em scatter. We went through ’em like a clown through a paper hoop. They tumbled right an’ left to get out of the way, an’ the yells they let off was somethin’ blood-curdlin’. We went clean through the bunch an’ up to the gate, an’ I was intendin’ to go back through ’em once more, just for luck, when someone hove a brick that landed on the horse’s neck. Down went his head an’ up went his heels, an’ off I tumbled, right into the middle of the row. “I picked myself up an’ backed up against the gate. The horse went tearin’ off, an’ the crowd closed in on me. Say, that was an ill-natured push, all right. Bricks an’ clubs an’ fists were so thick round me that I couldn’t get a breath between jabs. I remember two or three tried to kick me, but when their toes landed against the armour, they went limpin’ back off the firin’ line. “There was some hot doin’s while it lasted. I put one feller out with a blow on the ear, an’ another went howlin’ off with his scalp laid open where my mailed fist had come down on it. A minute later my helmet was busted in by a blow from a club, an’ immediately followin’, a well-aimed brick caught me in the chest an’ sent me to my knees. Before I could get up, they was on me like a pack of wolves, an’ a dozen of ’em was walkin’ most careless over my countenance. . . “Then I heard a clang of gongs an’ the rumble of wheels. There was a wild yell of ‘Cops!’ All around where 1 lay, the gang was tumblin’ over each other in their haste to get away. Someone trod on my face, an’ ’twas the birdies for me after that. “The next mornin’, as I lay in a cot at the hospital, wonderin’ how I got there an’ tryin’ to remember what had happened, up comes a nurse, an’ with her was Annie Coogan. She drew a chair to the bed, an’ sat down beside me. “ ‘Mike,’ she says, her eyes shinin', ‘Oh, Mike, it was fine!’ “‘What was fine?’ says I, not knowin’ what to make of it. “ ‘What you done,’ says she. ‘Haven’t they shown you the papers? Look!’ ’ “She held up a clippin’, an’ I read the headin ’ : GALAHADgTO THE RESCUE. Holds Police Arrives. “ ‘The feller that wrote it thinks he’s very says, with a sniff, ‘but I understand, all the same, Mike. ’Tis ■more than a man’s work, to face a mob .gjike that single-handed.’ 3®' “‘E only done my duty as I saw it,’ says I, which perhaps wasn’t exactly the truth, considerin’ the fact that I wasn’t in the least particular which side I done it for.’’ Mulvill paused to adjust the green eye-shade. “But there’ll be time enough to tell her that after the weddin’, he chuckled. “ ’Tis set for Thursday week.’’ The Day’s Work and Wages. HOW THE NAVAL OFFICER LIVES ON HIS PAY. By an “N. 0. It lias been pointed out that under the present regulatiohs an Army officer lias no more prospect of living on his pay than he had in the past, notwithstanding the notable augmentation of his duties. It is satisfactory to turn to the senior service and find that, with reasonable economy and yet in decent comfort, a man eau live without drawing on his “people” and without runniifg into debt. As in the Army, so in the Navy the conditions of life have become more strenuous in the last decade. Of course the ‘‘N.O.’’—to give him the title which he himseif uses—is always on duty unless he has asked and obtained leave to be otherwise engaged. While he is on board he is in uniform, and the regulations still state that the wearing of plain clothes is a privilege extended to officers ashore for exercise and recreation. . 1 aking the lieutenant as a representative rank, he works “in four watches” as a rule. This means that the twentyfour hours of day and night are shared

between the four watch-keeping lieutenants, giving each of them six hours duty, during which he must wear his belt and carry his telescope, keeping ilia eyes skinned for the instant notioe of auy occurrence, be it so great as the shoving off of an admiral’s barge flying the flag or so small as the surreptitious hanging up of his washing in an unauthorised place by the ship's cook’s mate. ON THE BRIDGE. At sea his place is on the bridge, in supreme command as the captains representative, and responsible for the safety of the ship. And unless and until one has shared the middle watch—say approaching the Channel in a November night with a fine West-country drizzle drifting up from windward ana a long swell abeam, with a fishing fleet ahead spreading nets half a mile long, and a stumpy old sailing ship trying to cut across the bows —until then one does not realise that watch-keeping is no sinecure and no picnic. Our lieutenant has kept his watch, let us say "the first,” from 8 p.m. to midnight. He must finish breakfast by a quarter to nine, or he will not get auy, since at nine everything must be cleared up for divisions. When the buglers sound oti “Divisions” our friend and his doggie, or attendant midshipman, muster their special division of the ship’s coiupauy on deck. The roll is called, and causes of absence are investigated on the spot. The ranks are opened out, and each man is inspected, lest perchance he be dirty or untidy or unkempt. The lieutenant is a capable head-nurse. Divisions over, the ship’s company double aft to quarter-deck for prayers, which are sensibly short, practical, and intelligible. After prayers things begin to move. If you are in a smart ship of a smart fleet, you have to fight daily for your reputation, for every “evolution” is timed on board the flagship, and the order of merit is signalled to the fleet with appropriate and energetic comment by the “old man.” TENSE SILENCE. So, as the little bundles creep up to the flagship’s yard-arm and are broken into orders, there is a tense silence preceding pandemonium. The bugles blare out “General quarters,” or “Out nets,” or “Exercise action”; there is a wild stampede of all hands to their stations, a stampede that hides a preconcerted anil ordered activity; and two minutes later there is silence again, denoting that every man is at his post. Meantime our lieutenant has probably dived headlong into the fore barbette, where his twin 12-inch guns live. He has counted his gun’s crew, found the second captain to be on the sick-list, and appointed a substitute. He and the engineer-lieutenant have tested valves and circuits and contacts, got the hydraulic pressure on, seen that the ammunition party are standing by in the magazine, and finally made the report: “Fore barbette all ready, sir!” And so the forenoon goes. There may or may not be an hour’s "stand easy” before lunch at noon, but there will almost certainly be some bags to inspect, to ensure that Tom Bowline, A. 8., has really at last got his supply of underclothing complete. Or he may have to attend “defaulters,” that daily petty sessions where a long-suffering commander investigates “personally and publically and in the presence of the accuser and accused” all breaches of discipline, good order, and morals. Then, nominally at noon, but really at 12.30, so as to give him a lunch-time, he goes on watch again till four. DOG WATCHES. The routine of watches is varied by means of the “first dog” and “second dog.” An ordinary watch is four hours, and usually four officers share the watches, so that a man’s duties would recur daily were not the 4 to 8 p.m. watch halved. The halves are the dog watches, and this arrangement shifts a man’s watch forward by one step each day. Thus our lieutenant gets one night’s undisturbed sleep out of four, and is on duty one afternoon out of four. Ten shillings a day—£lB2 10s. per annum, less Income-tax —that has been the lieutenant’s pay any time this hundred years. And he lives on it. There is an old yarn, which may bear re-telling, of the hostess welcoming two small shy midshipmen who appeared as sole representatives of a gun-room mess. “How do you decide who comes?" "Oh, we toss for it, you see.” “Then you two won?” “No, we loet.”

And, lastly, in the Navy, mess bills are strictly scrutinised by a committee of three experienced officers. Accounts cannot be left unpaid. If necessary, the captain cun order the paymaster to pay debts and debit the amount against an officer’s pay. In fact, all gun-room accounts are paid through the office, and the midshipmen receive only the balance as his pocket-money for the month. The youngsters are limited to Ills, a month wine-bill find las. a month extras over and above their messing, which is only 30s. a month. The three senior officers of the gun-room are by regulation responsible that the mess is conducted on a scale commensurate with the pay of the juniors, and the three auditing officers have to satisfy themselves that there are no internal debts, and that no officer has incurred any extravagant expenses, signing a formal declaration to this effect and handing it to the captain, who himself produces it to the admiral at inspection. In the ward-room mess the same routine is followed. The generous amount of £5 a mouth is fixed by custom as the limit of a wine-bill, and it is quite certain that even the plea of hospitality will not excuse an officer who exceeds it. But it is also as certain that anyone who attempts to “soak’’ within that limit will find himself subject to reprimand. An ordinary battleship messbill will run somewhat as follows, where a man neither stints himself nor indulges in any luxuries out of season. Mess funds (band; library, furniture, games, etc.). £2; messing, £3; extras and wine and moderate entertaining £3; servant and washing, £2. The balance is £5, which may be increased by whatever can be saved out of the £3 allowed for luxuries- in which category entertaining is placed. All ordinary mess entertainments are provided for by a special subscription included in mess funds. The writer, being a poor man and “indifferent honest,” was able without any wearisome economy to keep his extras, etc., down to £ 1 a month while serving in a smart battleship which played her proper part in the social life of Malta, and allotted £2 a month through the paymaster to his outfitter. A £7O outfitter’s bill was thus cleared off' in a three year’s commission without the loss being felt. There may be two dozen men in the service whose private incomes exceed £ 1,000 a year, and out of a mess of twenty, perhaps two have an allowance of more than £lOO from their people. But the great majority rub along with an occasional £lO note on birthdays or at Christmas.