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Naval Occasions, and Some Traits of the Sailor-man

Chapter 4 NOEL!

Word Count: 1382    |    Released on: 01/12/2017

seeing the occupant of the bunk stir slightly, withdrew from the cabin. For a little while longer the

led from the rack overhead that contained his gun and golf-clubs, down over the chest of drawers with its freight of battered silver cups, photographs, and Japanese curios, to the deck where a can of hot w

e reme

ut of the scuttle into the gloom. It was snowing, and the re

y minutes later, as he was sitting in his bath, the curtain across the door

r cut the caroller short, and the sounds of strife and expostulation

on by the Marine duty-servant. Him the First Lieutenant, entering at that moment, drove wrathfully on

the long row of chairs, for every one "spared by the exigencies of the Service" was on leave, the heads of depa

as a guinea!" was his greeting to the Junior Watch-keeper (recently a soj

uality hitherto unrecognised by the most advanced

ntly gave way to general conversation. Pipes were lit, and the fire coaxed into a more urbane frame of mind. The Junior Watch-keeper was seen to transfer stealthily from a letter to

ell, I'm blessed! And a Christmas card from Aunt Selina to dear Guss

n bells," announced the First Lie

ow-powdered quarterdeck, and then, following the immemorial custom of the Service, the Wardroom made a tour of the

ceeded to empty his cap of lumps of "figgy-duff," cigarettes, and walnuts. "Bless their hearts," he murmured, "I love them and I love their figgy-duff, but there are limits-here, Jess!" He whistled gently, and a

jolly good f

e replied, smiling. He had lost a wife and child as a young lieutenant,

lently to the Young Doctor, "I don't mind if you do wish me a happy Christmas, you benighted body-snatcher." But the Surgeon was

*

ne another sorrowfully over the tea-table. You can't drink ch

ngineer-Lieutenant, gloomily buttering a p

dded the A.P. He mused awhile reminiscently. "Ch

ght. I don't feel as if it were Christmas da

ave him and his missus to supper. He'll motor in, and"-he referred again to the note-"he's brin

ed the Day-on, visions of childhood fleeting through his mind. "Santa Claus!" murmured the Young Doctor, already mentally revi

miral Superintendent's garden, and their guests arrived to find the Mess transformed. No sooner was supper over than the First Lieutenant vanished, and they entered the smoking-room to find a genuine Santa Claus, with snowy beard and gruff voice, dispensing gifts from the magic tree. There were miraculous presents for all: Zeiss bino

ight astride the champing Junior Watch-keeper. It figured further in the tiger-shoot conducted from the howdah of an elephant-a noble beast

ch of its tethered quarry (Jess, the bored and disgusted terrier), you would never have kno

y sang the old, memory-haunted Christmas hymns, the woman's contralto and children's

dn't sing. The fire nee

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