Authors: James Hanley
'Mr. Hump,' he said, as he heard the well-known step outside the door. 'Did you make the inventory of the seventy men on C deck?' He did not turn round to look at the second steward.
'Not yet, Mr. Walters. I've been going through papers all morning, in A deck, as the men for'ard are removing all the dead to D deck.'
Then, for Christ's sake go and get it done at once. Don't you know that Mr. Dunford is waiting for this report, and that he has all his work cut out to have the whole thing ready for the authorities at Alex., or wherever we're going?' He swung round in his chair, looking helplessly at Mr. Hump.
'I can't work any faster! From time to time I'm called away to B deck. You don't know what it's like, sir. Every minute, moans, groans. There aren't enough stewards, men are sick everywhere – I—'
'I know! I know!' Mr. Walters shouted. He was unnerved. 'I know all about it, Hump. But we'll all be clear in a day or two! It couldn't be helped. It wasn't anybody's fault. We're bloody lucky to be whole, I tell you. But what I don't understand is why this man above will do nothing about those bodies. God Almighty! does he expect they'll come to life again? Something will have to be done, by God, yes, the smell below there will be outrageous, and I've experienced some nasty things in my time. Now get below and get one of the stewards and make the inventory. You see once this is done that's the end of it. And Mr. Dunford might yet get back his sense of decency and bury those poor chaps. He must be mad.'
'They say Mr. Dunford's had no orders yet,' remarked Mr. Hump. His attitude was one of polite acceptance of the situation. He put one foot into the cabin.
'Orders be hanged! Whoever heard of the like before. I ask you, Hump?'
'I don't know, Mr. Walters. All I do know is that we were signalled to pick up wounded in the water, to get clear away and make for Alex. They might be the orders of crazy folk for all I know, but all the same I think it's a bloody good thing. We're out of that hell-hole. One of those other ships was holed. God alone knows what the scene looks like now. They reckon a mistake was made, and on top of that the moon showed up everything. And there they were – and there we were – and here we are now, Mr. Walters, clear of it, making for a more wholesome place. So far as I'm concerned I have no objection to smells so long as we can get into port. After all everybody has to think of himself, hasn't he? I'm not being callous, I assure you, but it would be a poor bloody man who didn't pat himself on the back now.'
'I don't want sermons, personal opinions, or anything else,' shouted Walters. 'I want a report, an inventory, a list of names, numbers, and regiments done of all the dead in A deck.' He pushed out his foot and slammed the door, Mr. Hump drawing out his foot in the nick of time.
A voice outside the door: 'I've laid lunch in the mess-room, sir.'
'Oh! Thank you. Very good, Marvel. Thank you! Inform Mr. Hump. You should find him on A deck.'
Mr. Walters got up, gathered his papers together, put them under his arm and went out to the mess-room.
'Hang these bloody flies!' he said. 'Confound the beastly things!' He sat down. The smell of roast beef, a bit too fresh, he thought, came up from the big silver dish on the table. Presently he was joined by Mr. Hump.
'Ah! There you are, Hump! Roast beef. Damme, we're lucky to be eating roast beef. Sweet potatoes, canned peas, a glass of burgundy. I feel much better. I always do at table.' He smiled down on the table.
Why, here was something of great significance. Had anybody ever noticed a something – a sort of indestructibility about a good solid table around which the world might flash and crash, and yet it remain impervious to all things, except its own importance, around which men sat and ate food, drank, smoked, laughed, chatted! A good, stout table, especially one in the mess of A.10, was the centre of everything. Here, right in the heart of A.10, was the pleasurable thing, and thoughts and vexations and orders and wires, all could go to the devil. Mr. Hump sat opposite Mr. Walters. They began lunch. Mention the inventory to Mr. Hump? Certainly not. Enjoy lunch, which was much better.
'Pass the mustard, Hump. Thank you! I've been wondering, Mr. Hump, whether you and I ought not to look for something else. Something with real money in it, something really alive, spectacular, something really worth while.'
Mr. Hump began digging at an elusive piece of meat with his fork. What were you thinking about?' asked Mr. Hump, before he swallowed the meat.
'I was thinking of the Atlantic route! You know all along I was given to understand that we were eventually proceeding in that direction. But it doesn't look like it. No. Far from it! We're going to run up and down and in and out. Excursions in the dark, and hushed voices. The bare limit in food, Mr. Hump
;
A mystery ship, you know. Cantankerous young officers – Empire-builders, pots of money and put it in handy, sir. Hump! I'm getting sick of it. I wouldn't mind if there was anything in it. But there isn't, and I tell you I'm determined to make – yes, sir, to make. And now is the time! Not out of these children, Lord, no, I have in view a large ship, a transport, to be precise, a transport sailing from New Brunswick or Montreal, even Halifax. Then there's a better chance. A chief steward aboard a ship like this, Mr. Hump, is an absolute nonentity! I've been on real liners in my time. And carrying people worth while, too! What do you think? Let's have the mustard again, Hump. Thanks, very much.' He put the blade of his knife in the pot, lifted out a large amount of mustard and deposited it on the edge of his plate.
'It's not a bad idea, Mr. Walters,' he said. 'But I shouldn't think chances are all so easy as that. A man gets a berth like that on the Atlantic route and he hangs on to it. Personally, I'm fairly satisfied where I am, though I reckon they ought to carry more men, Mr. Walters, and you'll agree with me there, after the last twelve hours on board this magnificent vessel. I keep telling myself how lucky I am to be alive, and when fellers are sick all over me, and the dead lying there, I just think of that. It's great being alive, Mr. Walters.'
The second steward raised his head, looked up at the deck-head. Mr. Walters looked up too, not at the deck-head, but at the second steward's face. Was that white face aglow – smiling? Yes. Mr. Hump was smiling. He glowed, in fact, at the very thought of being alive!
'I agree. It's a great thing to be alive, but living isn't just everything. Even your friend, Sherlock Holmes, would agree with me on that.'
They went on eating. A silence fell between them. Fresh air blew in through the open port-hole. The mess was oblong in shape. It had two doors, outsides were dark mahogany, inside they were painted white. The brass knob shone. The mahogany sideboard which stood behind Mr. Hump shone darkly, it threw up a dim reflection of the side of the bowl where the three dried apples had lain since leaving port. They were now hidden by flies. Mr. Hump loathed them, he would like to shut 'that bloody port-hole,' but Mr. Walters had no objection to flies, he liked fresh air when he could get it and he was patient, even forgiving. He continually waved his hand and swept the flies from the table.
'Well, you see, Mr. Hump, this is what put the idea into my head. This ship is going to stay out here, so it seems to me, for the duration. Mr. Dunford told me as much, though to be sceptical is to be on the level aboard this boat. I have a wife at home, a child. I don't aim to stay aboard a ship I begin to dislike! And from the moment I became a doctor, good God, a year's medical training has given me a status over-blown and preposterous, but since then I've got fed up. I don't mind a bandage here and there, but honestly, since those men were put below I've been everything except a bloody midwife. And I shouldn't do these things. There should be more stewards! And if they made us embark hundreds of wounded men, damn, they only did that when they realized the slaughter was a serious business, and turn us into a goddam hospital-ship, why didn't they have the nous to put an orderly or two aboard? And what chance have we, even now? True we haven't got a flaming red cross on our side, but we've an ugly-looking customer sitting on that poop.' Mr. Walters talked on, pausing every now and then to open his mouth wide for the morsel on the uplifted fork. This seemed to tremble in his hand as though it dreaded going into the cavernous mouth. Meanwhile, Mr. Hump ate prettily as he always did, and he listened most patiently and attentively to all that Mr. Walters said. But was the fat man in front of him simply talking for talking's sake, or was he really set on looking for a more lucrative berth?
'Sounds hopeful,' thought the Second Steward. 'But why should I go with him?' Yes. Why should he? Let him go! Why shouldn't he, Mr. Hump, take Mr. Walter's place?
They pushed their plates away at the same moment. Mr. Hump poured out a glass of burgundy and pushed it towards the chief steward. Then he filled one for himself. They leaned back in their chairs. Mr. Walters lit his pipe. Mr. Hump thought he would try a cheroot, a half-packet of which he discovered in Captain Percival's room when that boyish yet serious looking officer had got into the boat with his men. He lit this and its faint aroma hung about the mess.
Suddenly Mr. Hump said, 'If we
did
go back to England, Mr. Walters, I think there'd be a general clearance. The men wouldn't wait to watch the rats run down the ropes, and over the rat guards. I know that. Complaint after complaint has been dinned into my ears, all the trip across. Worked off their feet they said, and rotten accommodation, worse than the fo'c'sle, and that's saying something. I agree it was pretty lousy. Only one man to a section of three tables.'
'Yes, I know! I know that, Hump! I'm not blind! But God Almighty, don't you understand the position! We were turned into a hospital at a moment's notice. It couldn't be helped. Up there—' he jerked his thumb towards the sea – 'up there they've been yelling for men for weeks.'
'Aye! And now, by God, they've got them!' exclaimed Mr. Hump.
Mr. Walters put on his old cap with the white cover and left the mess.
Mr. Hump finished his glass of burgundy, stumped out his cheroot and did likewise. He went to his room, put on a dingy white jacket, and an even dirtier cap. He felt suddenly miserable. There was something about A deck he did not like!
'Well, get it over,' he told himself. 'Get it over.' Aye! All was fair in love or war, as the saying went, but what a stupid pig Mr. Dunford was, carrying all those men to Alexandria. There was only one place for them, one place. Oh! the whole thing was disgusting. Still it was even worse for Marvel and the others. He had better keep telling himself that and also that he was alive, yes, still alive. Thus fortified, he could descend that ladder with a firm step. He could watch those sailors – turn them over and over, body after body, call out names and numbers, in between go into a dark corner for a smoke. Lucky. They were lucky. And that thoughtful-looking chap, the look-out man. It was a wonder indeed that he wasn't sitting on that fo'c'sle head ladder when the first shell struck her. A wonder! Sitting there with that large, pugnacious, innocent-looking, yet thoughtful mug turned to the bridge. Half-way down the ladder Mr. Hump paused, he heard approaching footsteps, deep breathings – somebody ascending. The bosun.
'Afternoon, Bosun. Where are we now?'
'SSW. of Stinktown,' the man said. And pushing his way past the tall lean figure of the second steward, stepped out on to the deck. 'All those men should be put overboard. Yes, sir! It's a living disgrace. Aye! But who was right – Who was wrong? Who cared a goddam – I don't know, beggar me, I don't!' And he took in fresh air to his lungs. 'Phew!' he said.
A deck is silent, somehow it seems to cower under the light, sickly looking, yellowish, that filters through the heavy air. The bulb was shaded. Purpose has given it a hood. It is still – caught in air. Once it swung, throwing enormous fantastic shadows across the hold. The iron deck looked wet. It had been newly brushed. There was a shimmer upon it. Shiny under the light. Mr. Hump sat down on the hatch-top. He saw figures moving about in the dark corner on the starboard side. He was not tired, no longer afraid, he smelt nothing. He just listened.
'Ah – and he saw three mouths, all torn like bloody, hungry wolves been at them, and he was sick. Sick as hell. An' Williams, here, he went to Walters, d'you see – asked him for a nip of brandy. Lousy bastard, says no! But that's nowt. They got that kid aft now. Goddam, that kid's winnick! I know what saw him! Aye, I know!'
'Goddam, we know that, but can't you put that blasted rag you got, that old pimple rag, put it in your pocket for Christ's sake. Talkin' through that, even if we was listenin'. There's Mr. Hump on the hatch. Dozy-Ozy that man.'
'Ah! I saw him – I was there first, anyhow! You see, when that last shell struck her, this kid he got blew in on the deck again. He was balmy, I reckon. He ran all ways, here and there, and nobody took no notice, everybody was too excited, and then we got orders to move around. There he was again. Aye! a nice lad he was, frizzy hair he had, and eyes like saucers, d'you know. Could he shout! God love me, Charlie! We had to catch hold on him he might have gone over the side, d'you see? – and I reckon there were enough fellers struggling about there! So we caught hold on him. Christ! he was strong. "Let me go! Let me go!" he kep' shouting all the while. "Let me go! I want to fight for my bloody King. Let me go! I want to defend my bloody King." So O'Neill, here, he knocked him out. It was lousy, but there you are, fancy a sailor having to knock out a mere kid. But he had to. Oh – aye, shut eye, up there, he saw it. Old Captain shouted "Put him out." We took him aft then, and Mr. Ericson came with us then. We slipped about in all kinds of muck and this kid he was deado. Knocked right out. So he can't fight for his bloody King, no more! We had a hell of a job when he come to in that cabin aft. It was bloody awful. But Mr. Ericson, he's clever, he's a cool'n, he just slipped the poor kid's arms into the jacket. And he gets beef-tea, and they have a fellow outside the door all the while. Well, here you are, easy, mate. "Ready, Mr. Hump."
'