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Admiral Sir George Reece, K.C.B., was an ideal Commander-in-Chief, loved and duly feared by the men under his command. He possessed all the qualities that go to make a good sailor, and that is saying a very great deal.

It seems impossible, however, for a human being to be ‘great’ in any capacity without having a few weaknesses to balance the account, and Sir George was no exception to this rule.

Prominent among his smaller failings was a rather absurd attention to minute details of drill and equipment. The slightest deviation from any course of procedure laid down, or the smallest deficiency in a ship’s gear was sufficient to bring down the torrent of his wrath on the miserable offender.

So when the time for annual inspection was approaching a feeling of nervous apprehension pervaded the fleet, and men who had fought in the Battle of Jutland without the quiver of an eyelash began to feel a weakness in the knees which was quite out of proportion to the risks involved, but is inexplicably common, both in the Navy and the Army, at such crises.

Captain Bolter, commanding H.M.S. Thunderbolt, contemplating the approaching ordeal, was seized with a severe attack of ‘inspection fever’ which, being notoriously infectious, soon spread through the wardroom and the gun-room to the occupants of the lower deck. The whole ship was quaking with an indefinable sense of some approaching doom.

Some ten days before the date notified for the Admiral’s visit Captain Bolter proceeded to check through the latest regulations on the subject of equipment, and was pleased to find everything in order until his eye lit on a peculiar item in a list only recently received:

“Shove Wood!”

He chewed the end of his pencil as he ruminated: “Shove Wood? Shove Wood? What the devil’s a Shove Wood?”

The item appeared to be of particular importance because this supplementary list was headed with the ominous words:

“The C.-in-C. will expect to see all these articles at his next inspection.”

Captain Bolter sent for the Commander, and put the matter before him.

“Have we all the articles specified on this list?”

“I haven’t checked the list through yet, sir, but I will have it done at once.”

The Commander retired to carry out his investigations and returned in a short time to report that all items were correct except a ‘Shove Wood!’

Captain Bolter frowned. He was on the verge of confessing that he didn’t know what a Shove Wood was, but checked himself in time. He felt that he ought to know what this article was, and to betray his ignorance would be an undermining of his authority.

So he contented himself with saying: “Have a search made, and if it cannot be found it will be easy to have one made up in time for the inspection. Give the necessary orders to have this done.”

The Commander rather wanted to ask what a Shove Wood was but checked himself in time. He felt that he ought to know what this article was, and to betray his ignorance would bring down the vials of the Captain’s wrath on his head.

So he merely saluted and proceeded to carry out his instructions.

In this way the matter of this Shove Wood descended from grade to grade until it eventually reached bedrock in the shape of the Carpenter’s Mate. Each particular individual through whom the affair passed wanted to ask what a Shove Wood was, but each checked himself in time, fearing that a betrayal of his ignorance would expose him to the rage of a superior or the scorn of an inferior.

But with the Carpenter’s Mate, a solid and fearless type from Plymouth, it was a different matter. He feared neither rage nor scorn, but he had a reputation to maintain and he had an unbroken record of never being at a loss.

“There’s an item missing on this list,” said the Commissioned Shipwright. “A Shove Wood. It must have been omitted in the indent. The Admiral’s got to see it when he comes round. Just set to and get one made up.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” responded the carpenter. “I’ll have one made up. Just what was it you were asking for?”

“A Shove Wood.”

“Yes. A Shove Wood. I’ll see to it.”

On the withdrawal of the Commissioned Shipwright all hands in the carpenter’s shop took part in an honest discussion of the subject. No one hesitated to admit that he hadn’t the least idea what a ‘Shove Wood’ was.

“Sounds like something to shove wood with,” said one.

“Of course it sounds like that. We don’t want to know what it sounds like. We want to know what the hell it is.”

“Well, just something to shove wood with.”

“Gorblimy, mate, you’re the one for bright ideas. If you want to shove wood, where would you shove it on board ship? Overboard? A lot of b——y use that would be. And if you want to shove wood, you just shove it. Don’t want to make an apparatus for that.”

Not much benefit was derived from this rather negative discussion, but the Carpenter’s Mate’s reputation was at stake and he was not to be baffled.

After a great deal of scratchings of the head and profound meditation he got out his pencil and a bit of paper and began to evolve plans for the construction of such an implement as a person might employ for the shoving of wood, assuming that for some unimaginable reason he did not want to use his hands and feet in the ordinary way.

The article was built to his design and duly approved on the day before the inspection.

It was something like a snow-plough on a small scale. A V-shaped bow flush with the deck, two handles aft like the handles of a wheelbarrow, and two small wooden rollers on the struts below’ the handles.

When pushed in the ordinary way it glided smoothly over the deck and would certainly serve admirably to shove any wood that might lie in its path.

The Captain was informed that the article had been made up, and had intended to have a private look at it himself before the inspection so that he could pride himself on really knowing what a Shove Wood was, but it slipped his memory till the actual moment of the inspection when the Admiral was about to enter the regions that contained the equipment noted on list No. 4063A. He caught sight of it, however, the moment they came within range, and in response to his lifted eyebrow the Commander whispered, “That’s the Shove Wood, sir.”

The Admiral, making a minute inspection of each article in turn, found himself suddenly confronted with the infernal machine.

He almost staggered as his eye fell on it, and he gasped, “What the devil’s that?”

“That, sir,” proudly responded Captain Bolter, “is a Shove Wood, sir.”

“A what?”

“A Shove Wood, sir. The next article on the list.”

The Admiral rather wanted to ask what a Shove Wood was but checked himself in time. He felt that he ought to know what this article was, and to betray his ignorance would be an undermining of his authority.

So he bluffed the matter by pretending an intimate acquaintance with Shove Woods.

“Are you satisfied with it, Captain Bolter? Does it work all right?”

“Only recently received, sir. Not yet taken into use.”

“Well, I’ve seen better ones in my time. These new patterns are not as good as the old. If not satisfactory send in a report.”

“Yes, sir.”

The inspection being satisfactorily concluded, both Admiral Sir George Reece and Captain Bolter found themselves haunted with the spectre of this weird implement, and their minds were tortured with the failure to answer the question, “What the devil is a Shove Wood for?”

The mail received two days later elucidated the mystery.

At precisely the same moment the Admiral and the Captain each opened an official envelope which contained a small printed slip:

Errata

List No. 4063A.

Item 35.

For “Shove Wood 1.”

Read “Shovel Wooden 1.”