February 28, 191 8 
Land & Water 
15 
Rosetta. She tell me I haf a baby, a bello bambino, a verra 
fine— — " 
" Confound your baby, what about the beer ? " 
" Yes, Sah, certainly, Sah. I say, Signor, I bring de beer to 
zis ship, and then what 'appen ? I tell you, Sah. Dat damfool 
Giuseppe he putta de beer on de after boiler-casing, and de 
heat it affect de beer, Sah, and de beer maka de pop-bang, 
and, Santa Maria; in a meenit he has gone ! It gives me great 
regret to tell you dis story, Signor. It never shall happen 
again." 
" You'll sack Giuseppe when we get back ' to Malta," 
announced Airmach. 
" Oh, Sah ! he verra good boy. His mother and my Rosetta 
are sistahs, Signor." 
" Oh get out of it, Carlo," Wearily remarked the Captain, 
and Signor Bimpcro, knowing J.ieutenant-Commander 
Airmach, deemed it advisable to withdraw. 
" No beer, no whiskey, no nothing. I'm going to repose 
in my cabin. Let me know if an}' ciphers come through." And 
with a colossal yawn the skipper left the sweltering ward room 
for the slightly cooler shelter .of his upper-deck cabin, on the 
forebridge. 
Lieutenant Clambos re-read La Vie Parisienne for the 
third time, cursed his lack of application to the study of 
the French language in the earlier days of his youth, cursed 
the heat, the flies, Gallipoli, and life in general, and then 
gently dropped off into an uneasy sleep. 
The perfect peace which brooded over the destroyer as she 
lay on the glassy surface of her base amidst half a dozen of her 
sisters was only broken by the low persistent rumble of the 
guns which rolled across from the blood-stained peninsula 
and echoed and re-echoed dully on the rocky and sun-dried 
shore of Rabbit Island. 
The whole ship's company seemed asleep, and though lier 
bare iron decks were unpleasantly hot to the hand, recumbent 
figures were scattered fore and aft in such shadow as her 
ventilators, funnels and torpedo tubes afforded. There was 
one notable exception to this state of slumber. 
The e\ception was Mr. Cocker, Gunner (T). This gentle- 
man was sitting in his cabin right aft. attired in a pair of duck 
trousers and a vest, and sweating profusely. Every few 
moments he absently-minded dabbed his forehead with a piece 
of Service blotting paper. His dampness was due to two 
causes: first the Gallipoli sun, secondly, he was writing a 
letter. When it is added that the letter was to a girl, much is 
explained. Mr. Cocker was a big man, and looking at him in 
his cabin one was irresistibly reminded of those model ships 
you see inside bottles, which are used to adorn so many public 
houses. 
On this very hot afternoon, Mr. Cocker was endeavouring 
to write a letter to a certain young lady in Plymouth for 
whom he had a deep and abiding affection. It was a lamen- 
table and deplorable fact, from Mr. Cocker's point of view, 
that this affection was not entirely reciprocated. The young 
lady's affections wavered between Mr. Cocker and Quarter- 
master-Sergeant Basher of the R.M.L.I., recently awarded 
the Military Medal for having throttled a Hun in a trench raid 
on the Western Front. It was this medal that seemed to lie 
like a shadow between Mr. Cocker and his adored one, as he 
savagely bit his pen in his tiny cabin ; for the young lady 
had intimated in a letter which lay before him that the 
■gallant Basher was pressing his claims per medium of field 
postcards, and that although she did not withdraw all hope 
from the more distant Alfred Cocker, yet her patriotism told 
her that his chances would be considerably improved were he 
to achieve some martial glory. " At least, Alf," she concluded, 
" if you really love me you will get mentioned in despatches. 
Bill has sent me his photo taken with the medal on. He looks 
a hero." 
" Blinkin' Turkey*; flat-footed grabby, that's what he 
is," muttered Air. Cocker as he continued to wrestle with the 
problem of convincing the damsel that he belonged to a service 
noted for its silence and in which potential V.C.s might blush 
unseen and unheard of. 
Mr. Cocker had been aware of the lady's partiality for heroes 
for some months, and when he had left England in the spring 
to join the " Bloodhound " he had registered a mighty oath 
to distinguish himself in some manner or other. 
The power of love is great, and in the two months he had 
been in the ship he had certainly distinguished himself, but 
not in a manner likely to bring a medal to his manly breast or 
even a mention in despatches. 
His first exploit had been to arrest and confine in the after- 
hold for three hours an individual who had strolled on board the 
ship at 4 p.m. one day in plain clothes in Malta Dockyard. 
On Airmach's return from the club at 7 p.m. he had instantly 
ordered the release of the prisoner, and a dishevelled apparition, 
.smelling strongly, of tar, paint, and new ropfe, had emerged 
. * Sailors' nickname for a marine. 
from the manhole. Wlien it could speak, it transpired that 
Lieutenant-Commander Airmach had entertained unawares 
a highly respectable Member of Parliament, on a commission 
travelhng through Malta to the Far East. 
This episode was but the first of a series culminating in an 
awful /(7«r pas at a military dinner, which cannot be described 
even here, and lastly he had only the night before committed 
the belise of adhering strictly to the letter of. the regulations 
in a matter concerning a flag-officer. At 6 p.m. Mr. Cocker 
completed his labours and took to his bunk, there to revolve 
in his active brain fresh schemes whereby he might impress his 
captain with a proper sense of Alfred Cocker's efficiency 
* * * * * 
The next day at dawn, as ordered, the " Bloodhound " 
weighed anchor and proceeded towards the peninsula. 
At 6 a.m. Mr. Cocker came up to relieve Clambos, who 
warned him before turning over that it had been definitely 
established that German submarines had arrived, and a 
look-out was to be kept accordingly. Mr. Cocker's face lit 
up on the instant, and who shall say what visions flitted through 
his optimistic mind. Imagine then, if it be possible, what his 
feelings were when at 6.30 a.m., distant half a mile on the 
port bow, he sighted a small dark projection apparently 
standing up about a foot above the water. To ring " Full 
speed ahead " and starboar^ his helm was the work of an 
instant. 
At ever-increasing speed the " Bloodhound " bore down on 
the suspicious object. Trembling with excitement, Mr. Cocker, 
with glasses glued_to his eyes, prayed the object would not dip. 
When they had but three hundred yards to go Mr.~ Cocker 
dropped his glasses in amazement, "then, staring wild-eyed, 
shrieked out at the top of his voice: " Submarine with four 
periscopes right ahead." 
As Airmach reached the bridge the " Bloodhound " reached 
her quarry, and there was a slight bump and a perceptible 
rep>ort. 
" We got her. I got her. We got her ! " exulted Mr. Cocker, 
executing a species of war-dance round the bridge. 
" Got what, Mr. Cocker ? " 
" Submarine, Sir ! With four periscopes. Four of 'em, Sir ! 
Saw 'em with my own eyes. Must be one of their latest. 
Rammed her fair and square." 
" Nonsense," said the captain. 
" But didn't you feel the bump ? " indignantly demanded 
the Gunner. * 
" Yes, I did feel something," admitted Airmach. " Turn 
the ship round at once," he concluded. 
" Did you see anything, Johnson ? " queried Airmach, 
addressing the coxswain. 
" Yessir ! I see four hobjects, a sticking up in the water, 
and we 'it 'em fair and square. Likewise I felt the blow and 
'eard a noise, a kind o' underwater bang like." 
" Great Scott ! What an appalling stench ! " remarked 
Clambos, who arrived on the bridge at this juncture. 
" Heavens ! what on earth is it ? " said the captain, as a 
fearful odour began to pervade the atmosphere. 
The next instant everyone who had a handkerchief was 
applying it to his nose. After a few moments- of agony, 
Clambos muttered through his handkerchief, " It seems to 
come from fore'ard. Sir." 
An A.B. was despatched to explore, and cautiously making 
his way on the fo's'cle, leant over the side. 
He speedily withdrew his head, and speaking with difficulty 
was understood to shout that " we've gone and got the innards 
of an adjectival animaul round our bows." 
It was at this juncture that Mr. Cocker really established 
his reputation. Without hesitating for an instant, he jammed 
both telegraphs to full speed astern. The "-Bloodhound" 
came to rest, and then slowly gathered stern-way. 
As she did so the honoured remains detached themselves 
from the bows and the Mediterranean absorbed the carcass of 
a mule which had died for his country some weeks previously 
on the Gallipoli Peninsula, and had been drifting about with 
his legs in the air ever since. 
As a result of this adventure Mr. Cocker had a long inter- 
view with Lieutenant-Commander Airmach. The Gunner 
emerged therefrom wreathed in smiles ; exactly what trans- 
pired was never officially published, but it may be noted that 
at the date of writing Lieutenant-Commander Airmach is a 
godfather in the Cocker family, that Mrs. Cocker cherishes an 
official " strictly private " letter from Lieutenant-Commander 
Airmach which speaks in glowing terms of her husband's 
unremitting attention to duty and his stupendous zeal. It also 
insinuates that it was only Mr. Cocker'-s extraordinary modesty 
that stood in the way of his being recommended for a V.C. 
Mr. Cocker is still serving with Lieutenant-Commander 
Airmach, so it may be presumed that his zeal has abated 
somewhat. 
Quartermaster-Sergeant Basher is still throttling Huns in 
France with added viciousness. 
