On Patrol. Bower John Graham

      A tale is told of a captain bold

      Of E-boat Seventy-two;

      She steered to eastward – pitched and rolled, and Poulson swore at her, damp and cold,

      As E-boat captains do.

      And off the mouth of the German Bight,

      With Borkum on the bow,

      She saw the smoke of a German fleet – MIND YOUR FINGERS – SEVENTY FEET!

      We're in for business now…

      (For enemy ships are hard to find —

      You have to take them quick;

      So copy the Eastern vulture's rule, that waits for days for an Army mule —

      Always ready to click.)

      Out to the west from Helgoland

      The big grey cruiser steered,

      And the glinting rays of a rising sun flashed on funnel and mast and gun,

      And – Admiral Schultz's beard.

      Down the wind the E-boat came

      And passed the searching screen;

      Nobody guessed the boat was there, till they heard the wallop and saw the flare —

      Where the pride of the fleet had been.

      'Twixt white and green of dancing waves

      The racing tracks were seen,

      And Poulson watching them get there, cried — Hold the crockery – Starboard side!

      For the kick of a magazine!

      The escort ran and the cruisers ran

      At the thought of an English snare;

      Scattered and spread to left and right, to the friendly arms of the German Bight,

      And left the ocean bare.

      Then the coffee was spilt, the E-boat rolled

      To a deuce of a shaking bang;

      To the sound of the hammer of Aser-Thor, victory-song of Naval War,

      The hull of the E-boat rang.

      And Poulson swinging the eye-piece round,

      Lifted eyebrows high,

      For far aloft, when the smoke had cleared, he saw the flash of a golden beard

      Against the empty sky.

      "Admiral over! Surface, lads!

      He's flying a belted sword;

      Pipe the side or stern or bow, stand to attention smartly now —

      Wherever he comes aboard."

      The Admiral landed Cabré-wise

      And high the fountains burst —

      (What is the meaning of Cabré-wise? To men of the air it signifies —

      His after-end was first).

      They piped the side, and still they stood

      To watch him struggle and heave,

      As he fought the slope of the rounded deck (for none could pull at an Admiral's neck

      Without the Admiral's leave).

      They took him below, and sat him down

      On the edge of the Captain's bed, —

      Treatment vile for a foemen caught, they gave him a bottle of Navy Port —

      Fiery, dark, and red.

      They landed him at a Naval Base,

      With S. two-twenty D.

      Supplied – a large and bearded Hun: Grosse Admirals, angry, One —

      For draft to Admiraltee.

      And Grosse-Admiral Schultz von Schmidt,

      Graf von Hansa-Zoom,

      Faded away to Donnington Hall, to an English park with a guarded wall

      – To an elegant private room.

      And there he paced the carpet up,

      And paced the carpet down,

      "Alte Himmel!" – the prisoners cried – "Some one's trod on the German pride,

      And dared the Hansa frown!"

      The Admiral called for a fountain pen

      And Reference Sheets1 galore,

      And silence fell on the smoking-room – for Grosse-Admiral Hansa-Zoom

      Was throwing a Gage of War.

      "Can I believe your Lordships mean

      To stand so idly by —

      When a young lieutenant of twenty-four, pleading the need of Naval War,

      Shall make an Admiral fly?

      Never shall I believe it true

      That I should have to fall

      On an icy sea with an awful spank, by the act of one of a junior rank,

      I – Schultz, of Donnington Hall."

      Their Lordships read – and bells were heard

      That woke the echoing past;

      And Scouts and messengers jumped and fled – till all was still as a world of dead

      Beneath the wireless mast.

      My Lords in solemn conclave drew

      Behind a bolted door,

      Threshing it out in full debate – "Is it a case for an Acting Rate?

      Or use of Martial Law?"

      At four o'clock in the afternoon,

      With tea-cups clattering past,

      Along the echoing Portland floor the whisper passed from door to door —

      "They've settled it all at last!"

      And I have the word of a lady fair

      In Room Two Thousand B —

      (A perfect peach, I beg to state), who typed the letter in triplicate

      And passed it on to me.

      "We find the Enemy Admiral's Note

      Is based on Service Law —

      That disrespect to a Flag afloat has sullied the fame of Poulson's boat

      Despite the Needs of War.

      But he erred unknowing – so we shall mask

      His breach of Service pomp, —

      We'll make him an Admiral, D.S.B. 2 – Acting – payless – biscuit free,

      In

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