by Bartimeus
*XIV.*
*"C/O G.P.O."*
The bell above the door of the village post-office tinkled and thePostmistress looked up over her spectacles.
"Is it yourself, Biddy?"
A barefooted country girl with a shawl over her head entered and shylytendered an envelope across the counter.
"Can you tell me how much it will be, Mrs Malone?" she queried. Therewas anxiety in the dark-blue eyes.
The Postmistress glanced at the address. "Sure, it'll go for a penny,"she said reassuringly.
"That's a terrible long way for a penny," said the girl. "Sure, it's aterrible long way."
From under her shawl she produced a coin and stamped the envelope. Ittook some time to do this, because a good deal depended on the exactangle at which the stamp was affixed. In itself it carried a message tothe recipient.
"It's grand writin' ye've got," said the Postmistress, her Celticsympathy aroused. "An' himself will be houldin' it in his hands a monthfrom now."
The girl blushed. "Father Denis is after learnin' me; an' please for abit o' stamp-paper, Mrs Malone," she pleaded softly, "the way no onewill be after opening it an' readin' it in them outlandish parts." Itwas the seal of the poor, a small square of stamp-paper gummed over theflap of the envelope.
As she was concluding this final rite the bell tinkled again. Afair-haired girl in tweeds, carrying a walking-stick, entered with aspaniel at her heels.
She smiled a greeting to both women. "A penny stamp, please, MrsMalone." She stamped a letter she carried in her hand, and turned theface of the envelope towards the Postmistress. "How long is this goingto take getting to its destination?"
The Postmistress beamed. "Sure, himself--" she began, and recollectedherself. "A month, me lady--no more." Outside, the girl with the shawlover her head was standing before the slit of the post-box; the othergirl came out the next moment, and the two letters started on their longjourney side by side. As the two women turned to go, their eyes met foran instant: the country girl blushed. They went their way, each with alittle smile on her lips.
* * * * *
The Destroyer, that for three hours had been slamming through a headsea, rounded the headland and came in sight of the anchored Fleet.
The Yeoman of Signals on the Flagship's bridge closed his glass with asnap. "She's got mails for the Fleet," he called to the LeadingSignalman. "I'll report to the Flag-Lieutenant." As he descended tothe quarterdeck he met the Officer of the Watch.
"Destroyer coming in with mails, sir." The Lieutenant's facebrightened; he called an order to the Boatswain's Mate, who ran forwardpiping shrilly. "A-wa-a-ay picket-boat!" he bawled.
The Flag-Lieutenant was reading in his cabin when the Yeoman made hisreport. Snatching up his cap, he hastened in to the Admiral'sapartments. "Destroyer arriving with mails for the Fleet, sir." TheAdmiral glanced at the calendar. "Ah! Eight days since we had thelast. Thank you."
The Flag-Lieutenant poked his head inside the Secretary's Office. "Nowyou fellows will have something to do--the mail's coming in!"
"Thank you," replied the Secretary's Clerk. "But, Flags, _try_ not tolook quite so inanely pleased about it. She's probably forgotten allabout you by now."
The Destroyer with rime-crusted funnels drew near, and men working onthe upper decks of the Fleet ceased their labours to watch her approach.One of the side-party, working over the side in a bowline, jerked hispaint-brush in her direction. "If I don't get no letter this mail--so'elp me I stops me 'arf pay," he confided grimly to a "Raggie," and spatsententiously. In the Wardroom the married officers awoke from theirafternoon siesta and began to harass the Officer of the Watch withinquiries. The news spread even to the Midshipmen's Schoolplace, andthe Naval Instructor found straightway that to all intents and purposeshe was lecturing on Spherical Trigonometry to deaf adders.
With the eyes of the Fleet upon her, the Destroyer anchored at last, andthe Flagship's picket-boat slid alongside to embark the piles of bloatedmail-bags. As she swung round on her return journey the Yeoman on theFlagship's bridge glanced down at a signal-boy standing beside theflag-lockers, and nodded. Two flags leaped from the lockers and sped tothe masthead. Instantly an answering flutter of bunting appeared oneach ship.
"Send boats for mails." The Flagship had spoken.
* * * * *
In Wardroom and Gunroom a rustling silence prevailed. Each new-comer ashe entered rushed to the letter-rack and hurriedly grabbed his pile ofletters: there is a poignant joy in seeing one's name on an envelopetwelve thousand watery miles away from home, no matter whose hand pennedthe address. In some cases, though, it mattered a good deal.
The Flag-Lieutenant retired to his cabin like a dog with a bone, andbecame engrossed with closely-written sheets that enclosed severalamateur snapshots. One or two portrayed a slim, fair-haired girl intweeds; others a black spaniel. The Flag-Lieutenant studied themthrough a magnifying-glass, smiling.
The Admiral, busy over his private correspondence, was also smiling. Hehad been offered another group of letters to tack after his name (he hadfive already). The agent of his estate at home had a lot to say aboutthe pheasants.... His wife sprawled an account of life at Aix acrosseight pages. He had been invited to be the executor of one man's willand godfather to another's child. But a series of impressionistsketches by his youngest daughter (_aetat._ 5), inspired by a visit tothe Zoo, was what he was actually smiling over.
Up on the after-bridge the Yeoman of the Watch leaned over the rail andwhistled to the signal-boy. "Nip down to my mess an' see if there's aletter for me."
The boy fled down the ladder and presently returned with a letter. TheYeoman took it from him and turned it over in his hands, scanning italmost hungrily.
The stamp was cryptically askew and the flap of the envelope ornamentedby a fragment of stamp-paper.
"An' what the 'ell are _you_ grinnin' at?" he began. The boy turned andscampered down the ladder into safety. The Yeoman of Signals stoodlooking after him, the letter held in his hand, when a bell rang outsidethe signal-house. He put his ear to the voice-pipe. TheFlag-Lieutenant was speaking.
"Yes, sir?"
"Make the following signal to the Destroyer that brought our mails--
"To Commanding Officer. Admiral requests the pleasure of your companyto dinner to-night at eight o'clock."
"Aye, aye, sir." He turned away from the voice-pipe. "_An'_ 'e could'ave my tot on top o' that for the askin'."
