derek daventry's arrival at sableridge marine depot could hardly be described as imposing. it might have been picturesque, or at least bizarre.
upon alighting at fisherton station he learnt on enquiry that sableridge was a good six miles by road, lying, as it did, at the entrance to the extensive fisherton harbour. he waited for some time at the railway station in the hope that one of the r.a.f. motor-transport vehicles might put in an appearance. thwarted in that direction, he tried in vain for a taxi or even a "growler". finally he bargained with a sleepy youth in charge of a very ramshackle wagonette, who, in consideration of a pecuniary largess of ten shillings, condescended to drive the newly-joining officer to sableridge.
at a leisurely six miles an hour the wagonette set out on its journey. apart from the slow pace and the atrocious jolting, derek enjoyed the ride. compared with the devastated fields and villages of france the prospect looked entrancingly peaceful as the road wound round the eastern side of the harbour. the tide was in. there was little or no wind, so that the water had the appearance of a vast lake, studded with islands, and backed by numerous hills that culminated in a bold down of a height of six hundred feet or more.
then a rise in the road brought him in sight of sableridge, a long peninsula of what appeared to be hummocks of drifting sand clothed in places with coarse tufted grass. almost every hillock bore an architecturally picturesque house, while the red-tiled roofs of others were visible in the hollows between the dunes. at the far end, where the waters of fisherton harbour rush in at the rate of five knots to meet the waters of the english channel, was a large white building. at no very distant date it had been a popular hotel; now, as the white ensign floating from the gaff of a tall flagstaff indicated, it was a government building—the marine depot of the r.a.f.
having reported, derek was shown his quarters—a large, airy room on the first floor with a balcony from which views of the greater part of fisherton harbour could be obtained. this room, he found, he had to share with another lieutenant.
save for the latter's personal belongings, it was as bare as mother hubbard's cupboard, the officers being in unfurnished quarters, for which they drew the sum of half a crown a day.
his batman, having deposited derek's kit-bag on the floor, enquired whether he was to fetch the new arrival's equipment from the station; to which daventry had to reply that there was no more forthcoming at present.
left to himself, derek took stock of his surroundings. the room required but little attention, but the view without was enthralling. it was during working hours. motor-boats of all types and speeds were running to and fro. "skimmers", credited with a speed of fifty knots, and "hydro-glisseurs", weird-looking contraptions consisting of six floats lashed in pairs and driven by an aerial propeller, formed part of the r.a.f. flotilla; while, in acute contrast to the mosquito-like craft, there were two "drifters" lying at moorings and a third slowly "chugging" her way against the tide. these craft, like their more select sisters, bore the distinctive red, white, and blue circles of the r. a. f.
just beyond a little pier lay the "guard-ship", a subsidized coaster, painted grey, and provided with a towering superstructure. she, too, flew the white ensign in her r?le of guardian of the port.
then, in contrast to the war-time conditions, were the square-sterned fishing-boats, mostly painted white and carrying tanned sails. good, wholesome, weatherly boats they were, manned by greybeards and youths, who "carried on" while their respective sons and fathers were patrolling in armed merchant-cruisers and drifters to frustrate fritz's knavish tricks.
"in peace-time i should be paying three or four guineas a week for this room," thought derek. "now i'm being paid to occupy it, and am about to have sea trips free, gratis, and for nothing. this is some stunt."
at tea derek was introduced to his new comrades. there were eleven officers belonging to the permanent staff and fifteen others under instruction. the latter were for the most part youngsters in point of age, many of them joining up direct from school, but veterans in point of war service. most of them had been flying in the old r.n.a.s. and r.f.c., and their joint record covered every battlefront from heligoland bight to german west africa, and from mesopotamia to beyond the scillies—pilots who had faced death a hundred times and had cheated the grim messenger by crashing and surviving. and now they had exchanged the joy-stick for the wheel of a motor-launch and the zest of flying for the equally exhilarating lift of the ocean.
the meal over, the crowd of junior officers adjourned to the shore—the tide being low and the moon full—to play sand-cricket and rounders until it was time to change for mess. the meal over, there was a "liberty-boat" to the "beach"—the boat consisting of a motor-lorry, while the beach was the term used to denote the neighbouring seaside town of coombeleigh.
"ripping fine station!" commented blair, derek's room-mate. "i've been in a few stations in my time, but this is the one. by jove, if things continue as they are going, we'll have a top-hole time! the colonel? he's one of the best, but i pity the fellow who slacks. yes, the c.o. expects a high standard, and he'll get it, or there'll be trouble. an' the major's absolutely 'it': couldn't wish for a better. of course we aren't in full working order yet. there are only half the number of men here at present, and the majority of 'em are a scratch lot. we've got to lick them into shape as seamen, and it's a tough proposition, i can tell you. got your bedding yet?"
"no," replied derek. "i'll have to sleep rough to-night, but it won't be the first time."
"i'll take you to the stores officer," continued blair. "he'll fix you up with bed-boards and some blankets. give the batman a shout, and tell him to bring the gear along."
in a very short space of time derek's equipment was augmented by a couple of trestles and three boards. these formed the bed. on that were placed half a dozen blankets and a straw pillow—a spartan couch, but far better than many he had slept upon in damp and stuffy dug-outs in france.
hardly had derek settled his scanty belongings when he was sent for by the c.o. his first official task was to accompany the colonel and the major to a large private house adjoining, which had recently been commandeered for officers' quarters. the former occupiers—a lady and her daughter—still remained in possession of a room in the basement.
the colonel allotted the rooms, derek's duty being to pin a cardboard strip, bearing the various officers' names, on the doors. he was on the point of completing the work when the late owner spoke to him.
"i quite understand," said she, "that my house is taken over by the royal air force; but would you give my compliments to the colonel and tell him that i must object to having one of my best rooms turned into a wood and coal store."
somewhat mystified, derek asked to be shown the room referred to. he hadn't the faintest recollection of any room being given over as a fuel store.
"oh, yes, i can show you," rejoined the lady. "here you are."
she pointed to the door of a large room on the ground floor. on it was written "lieuts. woods and coles".
admirably concealing his desire to smile derek explained.
"i am so sorry," replied the evicted tenant apologetically. "i am rather short-sighted. i quite thought it was 'wood and coals'."
punctually at four bells derek turned in, and, notwithstanding the hardness of his plank-bed, he slept soundly, lulled by the murmur of the surf upon the sand. it was the end of his first day of home service in a new branch. to-morrow he was to start work in earnest as a motor-boat officer of the royal air force.
