Part 17 (2/2)
”You're in Willlamshaven,” the sailor told him, expressing no surprise at his experience.
”He's civilian,” said one of the men in oilskins. ”He's safe.”
”Mybe, and mybe not,” said the sailor; ”'ow old are yer?”
”Seventeen,” said Tom.
”Transports aren't civilian,” said the sailor.
”s.h.i.+p's boys are not naval in American service.”
”It's the ige of yer as does it,” the sailor answered. ”I'll wiger you me first package from 'ome 'e goes to Slopsgotten.”
”What is Slopsgotten?” Tom asked.
”It's the s.h.i.+p's boys' 'eaven.”
”I guess it ain't so good,” said the man.
”It's a grite big rice track,” said the sailor. ”Me cousin was there afore the Yanks came in. Mr. Gerard 'e got him exchinged. They got a 'ole army o' Yanks there now--all civilian.”
”Is it a prison camp?” said Tom.
”A bloomin' sailors' 'ome.”
”Were you captured?” Tom asked.
”We're off a bloomin' mine l'yer,” the sailor answered, including his companion; ”nabbed in the channel--'i, Freddie?”
”An' I 'ad tickets in me pocket to tike me girl to the pl'y in Piccadilly that night. Mybe she's witing yet,” responded Freddie.
”Let 'er wite. Hi, Fritzie, we're a-goin' to add four s.h.i.+llins' to the bloomin' indemnity, to p'y fer the tickets!”
Further conversation with this blithesome pair elicited the information that they had been taken by a German destroyer while in a small boat in the act of mine inspecting, and that the men in oilskins (the one who had spoken being an American) were captives taken from a sunken British trawler.
One by one these prisoners were pa.s.sed into an inner room where each remained for about five minutes. When the sailor came out, he held up a bra.s.s tag which had been fastened with a piece of wire to his b.u.t.tonhole.
”I got me bloomin' iron cross,” he said, ”and I'm a-goin' to mike me 'ome in Slops! Kipe yer fingers crossed w'en yer go in there, Yank; tike me advice!”
”I hope I go there too if you're going,” said Tom, ”'cause you make it seem not so bad, kind of, bein' a prisoner.”
”Hi, Fritzie!” the sailor called. ”I got me reward for 'eroism!”
But apparently the German soldier could not appreciate these frivolous references to the sacred iron cross, for he glowered upon the young Englishman, and turned away with a black look.
”Hi, Fritzie, cawrn't yer tike a joke?” the sailor persisted.
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