i6 
LAND & WATER 
October 4, 19L7 
Why, if that is all wo count for. what is, the good of going back '. 
And just then tlie Abracadabra ga\e'avery gentle lurch forward. 
This was a fortunate thing'for, them, for it aroused theni 
to 'the fact that they had othe*!" problems beside the grand 
tragedy which had "been engaging theii" soiils. The ship 
was sinking. I-'or.a moment they were in " a state." as my 
friend put it. I think that is a very mild descriptii/n of most 
of us under similar circumstances. The sudden reaction 
from agonised thought took the form of running round the 
decks opening the life-belt lockers, lifting pieces of wood, 
looking hastily at each other and dashing off again. .\nd 
then they found the raft. 
Let me explain. If you serve or travel on a French. Italian, 
Greek or Portuguese vessel, you will find an abundance of 
unsinkable fiat rafts provided, fastened ready to float off 
from rails and shrouds as the ship founders. Hut on a British 
ship this would not do ai all. Tlie prevailing idea in a British 
ship seems to be that a few bottles of lime-juice and a minimum 
number of life-belts is all that is necessary in war-time to go 
all over the w.orld. There seems to be a feeling that it is 
bad form to worry about life-saving apparatus. I don't 
offer anv solution of the perplexity. There it is. There it 
was. The chief mate of the Abracadabra had managed to 
fashion some sort of clumsy top-heavy affair out of four 
oil-barrels and some old hatches lashed with rope. It had 
become an institution, a joke, a menace, a nuisance on deck. 
By some obscure miracle, during the battle with the sub- 
marine the previous voyage, this frowzy old makeshift es- 
caped without a scratch. And now the three castaways 
remembered it and hurried to the fore deck where it lay. 
As soon as they saw it they realised that it would take a dozen 
men to move it. And at that moment the Abracadabra gave 
another gentle lunge forward. In perfect silence they got upon 
the raft and prepared to, hold on. 
Of course it is simple enough in theory. The ship sinks 
and leaves you clinging to the raft and you are saved. In 
practice however there are complications. A ship does not 
sink on an even keel. You cannot float off a modern steamer's 
fore-deck as from a "billiard table. That fore-deck is' encum- 
bered with all sorts of things, winches, bollards, . anchors, 
snatch-blocks, booms, guis. slings, tackle, hawsers, ring-bolts, 
ventilators, steam-pipes, ladders and so on. And conse- 
quently our three adventurers, as they sat on that frowsy 
old raft ^and looked the winter sun in the eye as he came 
shouldering up out of his bed .of billowy morning ..vapour, 
regarded the immediate future' with some misgiving. • 
The Chief, a big heavy elderly man, gnawed iiis moustache 
and looked as if he were trying to remember where he had 
put something. My friend told me he felt " all of a sudden 
fed-up with it all." I imagine he would be, but he had no 
time for meditation, for the Abracadabra began to do strange 
things. She rolled. She righted. Then she dipped her 
lore-deck ever so little. Her centre of gravity was chang- 
ing at lightning speed all the time, like that of an intoxicated 
man. She was half-full. Suddenly a hatch burst open and 
flew into the air with a report like a si.\-inch gun. The Third 
let go of the raft, he was so startled. .And as he grasped it 
again the deck swam from under them and the raft surged to 
starboard, bringing up with a thump against the bollards. 
Then the water, cascading over the descending bulwarks, 
sent them with a rush against the winches. It was here that 
the Third got his leg against a wheel-guard and had a parallel 
strip of skin taken clean from hip to ankle-bone. 
Once, in the rapids that came pouring over them as the 
Abracadabra reeled in the agony of death, they had an an.xious 
moment — one of the ropes of the raft caught on a ventilator 
cowl. Yet they could do nothing, for the raft was so tender 
it turned over and over if they moved. Blinded and buffeted 
they hung on until they felt an upward rush of water as the 
ship sank over her brid.ge deck, an upward rush that flung 
them here, and spun them there, and finally left them gasp- 
ing in the easy swell of a fine morning in Mid-Atlantic. By 
some means they had hung on, and a trawler an hour later 
came upon them a:nd fished them off that frowsy, idiotic, 
invaluable raft ! 
None of these three gentlemen will ever get within a mile 
of the D.S.O., but do you know I really believe ^the con- 
-sciousnes's of having stood-by will in the course of years 
gradually obliterate from their minds the appalling shadow 
which hung o\er them when they came up that morning and 
saw the boats had gone. 
That will be better than any decoration ; for, as my 
friend put it : " If it hadn't been for that, it was a joke, 
man ! " 
ARE 
A' 
Old Mail! 
By Alec Waugh 
RE any of the follov\ing gentlemen in the mess, 
please. Mr. Ashworth, Mr. Kennedy, Mr. 
Terguson. . . ? " 
" Y'es, I'm here." 
" Sir, you arc to hold yourself in readiness to proceed up 
the line, and to report to the adjutant at twelve and eight 
till further orders." ^ ^ 
Mr. Ferguson, a very recently gazetted subaltern in the 
Machine Gun Corps, initialed the chit, and relapsed again 
into one of the many long wicker armchairs of the Base depot 
ante-room. He had been expecting to go up the line for 
several davs ; most of the fellows who had come over on draft 
with him had gone. He was not sorry. It was certainly 
])leasantly slack at the base, but it got boring after a bit. 
Yes, on the whole, he was jolly glad that he was moving. 
His preliminary training had taken a long time. 
At twelve o'clock he duly reported himself at the Orderly 
Room. 
" Oh, yes, you are Mr. Ferguson, aren't you ? " said the 
assistant adjutant. " You've been posted to the 305th 
M.G. Company. Have your kit ready by six to-morrow, 
and a lorry will take vou down to the station." 
" What shall I do then ? " 
" Oh. that's all right. They'll see about that there," said 
the adjutant, with vague and complacent optimism. 
I'or Military Administration is only a glorified game of 
" Old Maid," and the subject under discussion is the unlnckA' 
card, which each player in turn passes on to the next, hea\ ing 
a sigh of thanksgiving as soon as he is relieved of all further 
responsibility. In this case Second-Lieutenant Ferguson 
was old maid ; somehow he had to be got to the Head- 
quarters of the .josth M.G. Companv ; but each branch was 
only concerned with the job of getting him off its hands as 
quickly, and with as little trouble to itself as possible. 
Next day the game began in earnest. 
From six in the morning to seven at night he was hurried 
from one spot to another. He seemed to be in a continual 
slate of reporting to ^lajors with blue hat-bands. 
" Ah, yes," they would say. " The 305th M.G. Companv. 
That's the 131st Division. Well, you'd better go to Ambre- 
ville, and they'll put you right." 
And so for thirteen hours he travelled in the slowest of 
slow trains without the least idea of his eventual destination. 
1-rom time to time Mr. h'erguson, observing the rules of 
the game he was playing, changed trains, but the essential 
characteristics remained unaltered. Wearily he and the 
train and the day dragged through thirteen stuffy hours. 
But at last he reached the railhead. It was now seven 
o'clock ; and Mr. Ferguson had begun' to hope that he was at 
last somewhere near the end of his journey. It was almost 
with elation that he reported himself tw the R.T.O. 
" The 305th M.G. Company, sir ? " he queried with military 
severity. 
And now the R.T.O. broke the rules of the game. Perhaps 
the result seemed to him a foregone conclusion. Perhaps he 
had plaved the game before so often that it had ceased to 
interest him. But, whatever his motives, his action was 
clear. Instead of passing on the card to his next door neigh- 
bour, he dropped it beneath the table, and made an end of 
the business. 
With an air of genial benevolence, he despatched Mr. 
Ferguson to the Heaclquarters of his company, without worry- 
ing how he got there. 
"Yes, Mr. Ferguson, you are at Rideau. It's about nine 
kilometres off." 
" But how am 1 to get there ' 
" Well, on ordinary nights you'd have to walk ; but to- 
night the light-duty railway is running a carriage down there, 
and you can go back in that as far as Langeais. and then 
walk from there. Its quite simple. Any one will tell you 
the way. You're jolly lucky to have the railway." 
And With a kindly smile the R.T.O. turned his attention 
to the next claimant. 
Rather dubious about his good fortune. Mr. l-"erguson 
returned to the railhead, and sought out a military policeman, 
who informed him that the train was due any minute. 
" There's no time for me to get anything to eat, then ? " 
asked the famished subaltern, who had existed the whole day 
on nothing more substantial than the small packet of sand- 
wiches issued to him at the Base depot. 
" Oh, no sir, there be no time for that. Train's due any 
minute, and it's the only train to-night. You can't afford 
