"You don\'t look particularly happy over the news, old man," remarked one of the officers on the pier-head. "P\'raps, like old Mouldy here, you think that you\'ll be out of a job very soon. Cheer up, the war\'s not over yet."
Derek made no reply. As a matter of fact he was thinking more about the loss of the sea-plane than the news that Germany had thrown up the sponge. The two, taken in conjunction, might make things rather unpleasant for him, since it was evident that the navy, army, and air force must be drastically reduced after the cessation of hostilities —and Derek Daventry had not had enough of life in the R.A.F. He wanted to remain.
Just then someone slapped him vigorously on the back. Turning, he found himself face to face with his old flying-chum, John Kaye.
"What in the name of goodness brings you down here?" asked Derek.
"Joined the Marine Branch at Sableridge yesterday," replied Kaye. "Of course you took jolly good care to be out of the way when I wanted a pal to take me by the hand and show me the ropes. So when your two packets were sighted coming over the bar I came down to the pier to give you my candid opinion of your perfidious desertion. Had a good time?"
"Just so so," answered Derek.
"Then we\'re in for a lively evening, old thing," chipped in another officer. "We\'ve packed up for the rest of the day. There\'s a football match on this afternoon, and to-night we all go to the theatre and let \'em know what an armistice means. So cut and shift, you salt-encrusted ancient mariner."
But there was work to do before Derek could be at liberty. The spare gear had to be taken out of the boats; the boats themselves had to be moored to their respective buoys; the crews had to be marched off, and their officer had to satisfy himself that they were able to obtain a belated dinner. Then there was his report to be made out and submitted to the C.O.
Greatly to his surprise and satisfaction the report was favourably received. In view of the circumstances, it was conceded that the officer in charge of the boats had extricated himself with skill and determination. The loss of the sea-plane was considered to be unavoidable, and, as a telegram had been received from the coast-guards at Thorbury Head saying that she had drifted ashore practically uninjured, the work of salvage had to be undertaken at the first favourable opportunity.
Armistice night was, to quote the general consensus of opinion, a topping rag. Earlier in the evening all the men who could be spared were taken into the town by "liberty-boats", otherwise three large motor-lorries. Shortly afterwards the officers followed, every available motor-vehicle on the station being pressed into service. Derek and Kaye, together with seven other kindred spirits, crowded into and upon a car normally constructed to hold five, including the driver, two officers riding on the footboard, while another perched himself upon the bonnet.
Fifty yards behind came another similarly-laden car, followed by a third, and possibly it was solely tolerance on the part of the local police that every officer of the depot was not summoned to appear before the Bench for exceeding the speed limit.
Upon approaching the limits of the town the speedy cortège reduced its pace considerably. Through crowds of wildly-excited people the cars threaded their way. No one yet knew the terms of the Armistice. They were perfectly convinced in their own minds that the war was virtually over and that the Allies were top dog. It was an occasion for jollification, and the opportunity was seized.
"Some crowd, eh, what?" remarked Kaye.
"Rather," agreed Derek. "But what strikes me most is the display of street lamps. After years of almost total darkness at night one can hardly recognize the town in its blaze of light. Hallo! here we are."
The cars came to a standstill outside the theatre. Into the first two rows of the stalls trooped the Royal Air Force contingent, determined to have, at all costs, a topping rag. It was a dull play, but the audience amply atoned for its shortcomings. The members of the orchestra were invited to partake of bitter lemons, to the discomfiture of the wind-instrumentalists; the principal actors were presented with huge bouquets of cabbages and carrots; the manager was bombarded with requests for a speech, and was unmercifully ragged when he responded to the vociferous invitation. The pièce de résistance was the appearance upon the stage of His Worship the Mayor, who did his level best to deliver a patriotic harangue, at the conclusion of which he was solemnly presented with a titanic replica of a gorgeous jewel (tinselled cardboard) purporting to be the O.B.E.
Then, at the conclusion of the impromptu performance, the R.A.F. contingent filed out into the crowded street, to make their way to an hotel to enjoy a sumptuous supper in the unwonted setting of a brilliantly-lighted room with uncurtained windows. It was merely one way of bidding defiance to D.O.R.A., but it was symbolical of the beginning of a new regime.
During the ensuing week there was very little serious work done at the depot. It was a period of rejoicing, to which was added the disquieting consideration that sooner or later demobilization would bring its disturbing influence to bear upon efficiency. Followed a series of congratulatory calls between the officers of the various naval and military establishments in the district.
One of these was a visit to the Coastal Airship establishment at Downbury. Why the motor-cars on the return journey took a wrong turning and did not arrive at Sableridge till two o\'clock in the morning was never satisfactorily explained, but upon returning the Adjutant discovered that he had left behind his favourite stick, fashioned from the blade of an air-propeller, with a top turned from the fuse-cap of a Boche shell that, fortunately for the present owner, had failed to explode.
Enquiries on the telephone next morning elicited the information that the stick was left in the mess at Downbury, and would be sent during the day.
Just before eleven two large coastal airships were seen making over Sableridge. Manoeuvred with a skill acquired by long practice, the huge gasbags began to circle over the depot, one of their crew actually attempting to remove the Colonel\'s flag from the masthead of the flagstaff outside the officers\' quarters. By means of semaphore a lively exchange of compliments passed between the airmen up aloft and the airmen on the ground, while the former continued to show their stunt turns in a manner that caused the onlookers to anticipate a collision with the chimney-pots. Then, describing a curve over the harbour, one of the airships dropped an object to which was attached a bunch of streamers. With a splash the thing struck the water and floated vertically. It was the missing stick. Promptly a motor-boat pushed off from the pier and retrieved the returned property, then, with a final exchange of compliments, the two Blimps flew back to their sheds.
Next morning the signal officer\'s face looked grave. A letter, purporting to be an official document, had been handed to him. It was signed "Senior Naval Officer, Fisherton", and requested an explanation why a White Ensign, the jealously-guarded emblem of the pukka Royal Navy, was flown from the gaff of the flagstaff of a Royal Air Force establishment.
The whole thing was a hoax on the part of Dixon, the Lieutenant, R.N.V.R., commanding the guard-ship at Sableridge, and the R.A.F. signal officer "bit it badly". It was not until a reply had been drafted and submitted to the Commanding Officer of the depot that Dixon let the cat out of the bag. It was the first round of a friendly contest between the R.N. and the R.A.F., and the former was "one up".
When the men fell in parade that next morning the White Ensign was not flying. In its place da............