“If you’d ever been properly eddicated,” said Bill, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, “you’d know as the best discoveries ’ave been made by haccident, same as when the feller invented the steam-engine along of an apple tumblin’ on ’is ’ead.  That’s ’ow it is with this ‘ere submarine business, an’ no macaroni about it an’ no cheese neither.

“Sailormen gets a deal o’ presents sent ’em nowadays, rangin’ from wrist-watches an’ cottage-pianners to woolly ’ug-me-tights in double sennit.  But the best present we ever ’ad—­well, I’ll tell you.

“An old lady as was aunt or godmother or something o’ the sort to our Navigatin’ Lootenant sent him a present of an extra large tin of peppermint ’umbugs.  Real ’ot uns, they was, and big—­well, I believe you!  I’ve ‘ad a deal o’ peppermints in my time, but this ’ere consignment from the Navigator’s great-aunt fairly put the lid on.  You’d ha’ thought all ‘ands was requirin’ dental treatment the day the Navigator shared ’em out, an’ when the steersman come off duty, ‘e give the course to the feller relievin’ the wheel as if ’e’d got an ’ot potato in ’is mouth.

“Well, the peppermints was in full blast an’ the ship smellin’ like a bloomin’ sweet factory when the look-out reported a submarine on our port bow.  O’ course we was all cleared for haction, an’ beginnin’ to feel our Iron Crosses burnin’ ’oles in our jumpers, when we begun to see as there was something funny about ’er.

“Naturally we was lookin’ for ’er to submerge—­but not she!  There she sat, waitin’ for us, an’ all ‘er crew was pushin’ an’ fightin’ to get their ’eads out of ’er conning tower.  We was right on top of ’er in two twos, and all as we ’ad to do was to pick up the officers and crew as if they was a lot o’ wasps as ‘ad been drinkin’ beer, an’ tow the submarine—­which was in fust-rate goin’ order, not a month out o’ Kiel dockyard—­’ome to a port as I’m not at liberty to mention.”

“But ’ow?” began the baker.

“I thought as I’d made it middlin’ plain,” said Bill severely, “but seein’ as some folks wants winders lettin’ into their ’eads I suppose I’d better make it plainer.  I daresay you’ve ’eard as they’re very short o’ sweet-stuff in Germany.”

“I ’ave,” said the baker triumphantly, “I read it in my paper.”

“Well,” said Bill, “there was a wind settin’ good and strong from us towards the submarine, an’ when one of ’em as ‘appened to be takin’ the air at the time got a sniff of us ’e just couldn’t leave off sniffin’.  Then ‘e passed the word down to the others, an’ the hodour of the peppermints was that powerful it knocked ’em all of a ’eap, the same as food on an empty stummnick.  See?  That’s the real reason o’ the sugar shortage.  There’s ‘arf-a-dozen factories workin’ night an’ day on Admiralty contracts, turnin’ out nothin’ at all only peppermint ’umbugs.

“Simple, ain’t it?” Bill concluded, as he paid for his beer and reached for his bundle.  “Anyway, it does as well as anything else to tell a lot o’ folks as can’t let a decent sailorman spend ‘is bit o’ leaf in peace an’ quietness without tryin’ to get to know what ’e’s got no business to tell ’em nor them to find out.”