"
"'Op! 'Op! 'Op! What about 'Op?" thundered Pyecroft.
"'Op? Oh, shame thing. Words t' that 'fect. Door shut. Nushin' more
transphired till 'Op comes out--nose exshtreme angle plungin' fire or--or
words 'that effect. Proud's parrot. 'Oh, you prou' old parrot,' I says."
Mr. Glass seemed to slumber again.
"Lord! How a little moisture disintegrates, don't it? When we had ship's
theatricals off Vigo, Glass 'ere played Dick Deadeye to the moral, though
of course the lower deck wasn't pleased to see a leatherneck interpretin'
a strictly maritime part, as you might say. It's only his repartees, which
'e can't contain, that conquers him. Shall I resume my narrative?"
Another drink was brought on this hint, and Mr. Pyecroft resumed.
"The essence o' strategy bein' forethought, the essence o' tattics is
surprise. Per'aps you didn't know that? My forethought 'avin' secured the
initial advantage in attack, it remained for the old man to ladle out the
surprise-packets. 'Eavens! What surprises! That night he dines with the
wardroom, bein' of the kind--I've told you as we were a 'appy ship?--that
likes it, and the wardroom liked it too. This ain't common in the service.
They had up the new Madeira--awful undisciplined stuff which gives you a
cordite mouth next morning. They told the mess-men to navigate towards the
extreme an' remote 'orizon, an' they abrogated the sentry about fifteen
paces out of earshot.
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