Convoy Page #2

From the Admiralty, sir.

Hello, Bates, how's yourself?

I'm as well as can be expected,

thank you, sir.

I see.

Tell the commander

to muster all hands aft.

I usually offer anyone joining a drink,

but I think we can dispense

with that formality.

I quite agree, sir. Shall I go?

Just a minute.

Did you apply to come to my ship?

No, sir. I think someone at the

admiralty developed a sense of humour.

You'll be transferred

as soon as it can be arranged.

Thank you, sir.

Apart from duty, I suggest

we keep out of each other's way.

Naturally, sir.

- Hey, Snotty.

- Sir?

- What's your name?

- Howard, sir.

Mine's Cranford.

Where's the wardroom?

I'll show you, sir. Was that the order

for leave you brought aboard?

I don't know,

Mr Churchill didn't tell me.

The First Lord,

you actually know him?

Winnie? One of my oldest friends.

I help him with his hats.

You're pulling my leg, sir.

I wish they'd make up their minds

about leave, it's damned unsettling.

Unsettling?

That means a girl.

Well, of course, sir, she's only

a friend, there's nothing definite yet.

That's why you're anxious about leave.

Yes, and it's just my luck,

I'm on watch tonight.

Perhaps we can fix something.

I might take over for you.

They'd never let you, sir.

- It may be irregular but we can try.

- Thanks, awfully.

Down this way, sir.

Don't mention anything about my girl,

you know what it's like in the gunroom,

I'd rather keep it to myself.

My dear fellow,

I'll be as silent as the grave.

Three.

Wrong, old son.

- Four.

- (All laugh)

- They're on you, Dot.

- A pleasure, Sandeman.

- Make doubles now the anchor's down.

- Very good, sir.

- Here you are, sir.

- Thank you. Come in.

No, sir, not in here.

- Come on, have a drink.

- Thank you, sir.

- My name's Cranford, I've just joined.

- I'm glad to know you, Cranford.

- I'm Sandeman.

- How do you do?

- This is guns.

- How do you do?

Torps, surgeon commander...

- How do you do?

And Dot and Cary,

our heroes of the sky.

I'm happy to meet you all,

and to forestall the inevitable,

I haven't the slightest idea

when you'll get leave.

I suppose everybody on the ship's

been asking you that.

Do you know what I'd like to do?

Hop in my little bus, fly her to town,

Take her on top of the Ritz,

and make a parachute drop

into the American bar.

With rows and rows of gleaming bottles

and fairy lights twinkling though them.

Instead of Peacock's ugly mug

leering at you over pink gins,

there'd be a wonderful popsie.

With a full set of everything.

Bottoms up.

Here we go.

Hello, sir, you're just in time

to meet the new arrival.

We know each other.

Well, you seem to have

made yourself at home very quickly.

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