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diff --git a/31953-h/31953-h.htm b/31953-h/31953-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..64b0263 --- /dev/null +++ b/31953-h/31953-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9304 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Merchantmen-at-Arms, by David W. Bone. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%;} + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 70%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 22%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align:baseline; + position: relative; + bottom: 0.33em; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + .cap:first-letter {float: left; clear: left; margin: -0.2em 0.1em 0; margin-top: 0%; + padding: 0; line-height: .75em; font-size: 300%; text-align: justify;} + .cap {text-align: justify;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Merchantmen-at-Arms, by David W. Bone + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Merchantmen-at-Arms + THE BRITISH MERCHANTS' SERVICE IN THE WAR + +Author: David W. Bone + +Illustrator: Muirhead Bone + +Release Date: April 11, 2010 [EBook #31953] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MERCHANTMEN-AT-ARMS *** + + + + +Produced by Tor Martin Kristiansen and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) In memory of Thomas A. Noster, +American Merchant Marine, from June 29, 1942-August 15, +1945. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 374px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="374" height="500" alt="Cover" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> + + +<h1>Merchantmen-at-Arms</h1> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-007.jpg" width="600" height="348" alt="Frontispiece MERCHANTMEN AT GUN PRACTICE" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>Frontispiece</i> MERCHANTMEN AT GUN PRACTICE</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> + +<h1>Merchantmen-at-Arms</h1> + +<h3>THE BRITISH MERCHANTS' SERVICE IN<br /> +THE WAR</h3> + +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>DAVID W. BONE</h2> + +<h3>DRAWINGS BY<br /> +<big>MUIRHEAD BONE</big><br /><br /><br /></h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 130px;"> +<img src="images/emblem.png" width="130" height="83" alt="Emblem" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='center'><br /><br /><br /><br /> +LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS<br /> +1919<br /></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='copyright'> +<i>All rights reserved</i><br /> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class='center'> +TO<br /> +<br /> +<big>ALGERNON C. F. HENDERSON</big><br /> +<br /> +AS REPRESENTING A SYMPATHETIC AND UNDERSTANDING<br /> +GOVERNANCE IN AN IMPORTANT SECTION<br /> +OF THE BRITISH MERCHANTS'<br /> +SEA SERVICE<br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><b><big>PART I</big></b></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I </td><td align='left'>THE MERCHANTS' SERVICE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Our Foundation</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Structure</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II </td><td align='left'>OUR RELATIONS WITH THE NAVY</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Joining Forces</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">At Sea</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Our War Staff</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III </td><td align='left'>THE LONGSHORE VIEW</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV </td><td align='left'>CONNECTION WITH THE STATE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Trinity House, our Alma Mater</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Board of Trade</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V </td><td align='left'>MANNING</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><br /><big><b>PART II</b></big></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI </td><td align='left'>THE COASTAL SERVICES</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Home Trade</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Pilots</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Lightships</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII </td><td align='left'>'THE PRICE O' FISH'</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VIII </td><td align='left'>THE RATE OF EXCHANGE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span>IX </td><td align='left'>INDEPENDENT SAILINGS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>X </td><td align='left'>BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI </td><td align='left'>ON SIGNALS AND WIRELESS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII </td><td align='left'>TRANSPORT SERVICES</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Interlude</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">'The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband'</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIII </td><td align='left'>THE SALVAGE SECTION</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Tidemasters</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">A Day on the Shoals</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Dry Dock</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV </td><td align='left'>ON CAMOUFLAGE—AND SHIPS' NAMES</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV </td><td align='left'>FLAGS AND BROTHERHOOD OF THE SEA</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'><br /><big><b>PART III</b></big></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVI </td><td align='left'>THE CONVOY SYSTEM</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVII </td><td align='left'>OUTWARD BOUND</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVIII </td><td align='left'>RENDEZVOUS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIX </td><td align='left'>CONFERENCE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XX </td><td align='left'>THE SAILING</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Fog, and the Turn of the Tide</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">'<span class="smcap">In Execution of Previous Orders</span>'</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXI </td><td align='left'>THE NORTH RIVER</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXII </td><td align='left'>HOMEWARDS</td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">The Argonauts</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="smcap">On Ocean Passage</span></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> </td><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">'<span class="smcap">One Light on all Faces</span>'</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIII </td><td align='left'>'DELIVERING THE GOODS'</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIV </td><td align='left'>CONCLUSION: 'M N'</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'> <br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>APPENDIX</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>INDEX</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Merchantmen at Gun Practice</span></td><td align='right'><i><a href="#Page_ii">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Clyde from the Tower of the Clyde Trust Buildings</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_xi">xi</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Gravesend: A Merchantman Outward Bound</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Bridge of a Merchantman</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Old and the New: The <i>Margaret</i> of Dublin and R.M.S. <i>Tuscania</i></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">In a Merchantman—Bomb-Thrower Practice</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A British Submarine detailed for Instruction of Merchant Officers</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The D.A.M.S. Gunwharf at Glasgow</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">Instructional Anti-Submarine Course for Merchant Officers at Glasgow</span></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Loss of a Liner</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Mersey from the Liver Buildings, Liverpool</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Master of the Gull Lightship writing the Log</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">At Gravesend: Pilots awaiting an Inward-Bound Convoy</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Transports leaving Southampton on the Night Passage to France</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Liverpool: Merchantmen signing on for Oversea Voyages</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Ruler of Pilots at Deal</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Heavily Armed Coasting Barge</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Lampman of the Gull Lightship</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Minesweepers going out</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Southampton Water</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">'Out-Boats' in a Merchantman</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Firemen standing by to relieve the Watch</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Queen's Dock, Glasgow</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Bridge-Boy repairing Flags</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Transport Embarking Troops for France</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Transports in Southampton Docks</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span><span class="smcap">The <i>Leviathan</i> docking at Liverpool</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Salvage Vessels off Yarmouth, Isle of Wight</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">In a Salvage Vessel: Overhauling the Insulation of the Power Leads</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">A Torpedoed Merchantman on the Shoals: Salvage Officers making a Survey</span></div></td><td align='right' valign='bottom'><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Torpedoed Ship in Dry Dock</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Dazzle</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">An Apprentice in the Merchants' Service</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Standard Ship at Sea</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Building a Standard Ship</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Thames Estuary in War-Time</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Dropping the Pilot</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Examination Service Patrol boarding an Incoming Steamer</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Dawn: Convoy preparing to put to Sea</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Evening: Plymouth Hoe</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Convoy Conference</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Old Harbour, Plymouth</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Convoy sailing from Plymouth Sound</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Inward Bound</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Transport Loading</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Convoy in the Atlantic</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Bows of the <i>Kashmir</i> damaged by Collision</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Mayflower Quay, the Barbican, Plymouth</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Evening: The Mersey from the Landing-Stage</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Steersman</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Work of a Torpedo</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Transports Discharging in Liverpool Docks</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Troop Transports disembarking at the Landing-Stage, Liverpool</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>'M N'</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-016.jpg" width="500" height="451" alt="THE CLYDE FROM THE TOWER OF THE CLYDE TRUST BUILDINGS" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE CLYDE FROM THE TOWER OF THE CLYDE TRUST BUILDINGS</span> +</div> + + + + +<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> + + +<div class='cap'>WRITTEN largely between the shipping crisis of 1917 and the surrender +of German undersea arms at Harwich on November 20, 1918, this +book is an effort to record a seaman's impressions of the trial through +which the Merchants' Service has come in the war.</div> + +<p>It is necessarily halting and incomplete. The extent of the subject is perhaps +beyond the safe traverse of a mariner's dead reckoning. Policies of governmental +control and of the economics of our management do not come within the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span> +scope of the book except as text to the diary of seafaring. Out at sea it is not +easy to keep the right proportions in forming an opinion of measures devised +on a grand scale, and of the operation of which we see only a small part. Our +slender thread of communication with longshore happenings is often broken, +and understanding is warped by conjecture.</p> + +<p>In pride of his ancient trade, the seaman may perceive an importance and +vital instrumentality in the ships and their voyages that may not be so evident +to the landsman. By this is the mariner constantly impressed: that, without +the merchant's enterprise on the sea—the adventure of his finance, his ships, his +gear, his men—the armed and enlisted resources of the State could not have +prevailed in averting disaster and defeat.</p> + +<p>The unique experiences of individual seamen—the trials of seafaring under +less favourable circumstances than was the writer's good fortune—the plaints +and grievances of our internal affairs—are but lightly sketched. Many brother +seamen may feel that the harassing and often despairing case of the average +tramp steamer has not adequately been dealt with; that—in "Outward Bound," +as an instance—the writer presents a tranquil and idyllic picture which cannot be +accepted as typical. The bitter hardship of proceeding on a voyage under war +conditions, with the same small crew that was found inadequate in peace-time, is +hardly suggested; the extent of the work to be overtaken is perhaps camouflaged +in that description of setting out. Reality would more frequently show a vessel +being hurried out of dock on the top of the tide, putting to sea into heavy weather, +with the hatchways open over hasty stowage, and all the litter of a week's harbour +disroutine standing to be cleared by a raw and semi-mutinous crew.</p> + +<p>Criticism on these grounds is just: but it was ever the seaman's custom to +dismiss heavy weather—when it was past and gone—and recall only the fine +days of smooth sailing. If the hard times of our strain and labouring are not +wholly over, at least we have fallen in with a more favouring wind from the +land. Conditions in the Merchants' Service are vastly improved since Germany +challenged our right to pass freely on our lawful occasions. Relations between +the owner and the seamen are less strained. Remuneration for sea-service is +now more adequate. The sullen atmosphere of harsh treatment on the one +hand, and grudging service on the other, has been cleared away by the hurricane +threat to our common interests.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span></p> + +<p>Throughout the book there are some few extracts—all indicated by quotation +marks—from the works of modern authors. The writer wishes to acknowledge +their use and to mention the following: "Trinity House," by Walter H. Mayo; +"The Sea," by F. Whymper; "The Merchant Seamen in War," by L. Cope +Cornford; "Fleets behind the Fleet," by W. Macneile Dixon; "North Sea +Fishers and Fighters" and "Fishermen in Wartime," both by Walter Wood; +the pages of the <i>Nautical Magazine</i>.</p> + +<p>The grateful thanks of writer and artist are tendered to Rear-Admiral Sir +Douglas Brownrigg, Chief Naval Censor, and to Lord Beaverbrook and Mr. +Arnold Bennett, of the Ministry of Information, for facilities and kindly assistance +in preparation of the work. The writer's indebtedness to his Owners for encouragement +and for generous leave of absence (without which the book could not +have been written) is especially acknowledged.</p> + +<p>Mr. Muirhead Bone's drawings reproduced in this book were executed during +the war for the Ministry of Information with the co-operation of the Admiralty. +They are now in the possession of the Imperial War Museum. With the +exception of the illustrations on pages <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, and <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, these drawings were +made on the spot.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +DAVID W. BONE<br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2>PART I</h2> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-022.jpg" width="500" height="347" alt="GRAVESEND: A MERCHANTMAN OUTWARD BOUND" title="" /> +<span class="caption">GRAVESEND: A MERCHANTMAN OUTWARD BOUND</span> +</div> + +<h2>I</h2> + +<h3>THE MERCHANTS' SERVICE</h3> + + +<h3><br />OUR FOUNDATION</h3> + +<div class='cap'>ALTHOUGH sea-interest of to-day finds an expression somewhat trite and +familiar, the spell of the ships and the romance of voyaging drew an +instant and wondering recognition from the older chroniclers. With a +sure sense of right emphasis, yet observing an austere simplicity, they preserved +for us an eloquent and adequate impression of the vital power of the ships. One +outstanding fact remains constantly impressed in their records—that our island +gates are set fast on the limits of tide-mark, leaving no way out but by passage +of the misty sea-line; there is no gangway to a foreign field other than the +planking of our vessels.</div> + +<p>Grandeur of the fleets, the might of sea-ordnance, the intense dramatic +decision of a landing, stand out in the great pieces the early writers and painters<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +designed. Brave kingly figures wind in and out against the predominant background +of rude hulls and rigging and weathered sails. The outline of the ships +and the ungainly figures of the mariners are definitely placed to impel our +thoughts to the distant sea-marches.</p> + +<p>Happily for us, the passengers of early days included clerks and learned men +on their pilgrimages, else we had known but little of bygone ship life. With +interest narrowed by bounds of the bulwarks, they noted and recorded a worthy +description. In the mystery of unknown seas, as in detail of the sea-tackle and +the forms and usages of the ship, they penned a perfect register: down to the +tunnage of the butts, we know the ships—to the 'goun of faldying' and the +extent of their lodemanage, we recognize the men.</p> + +<p>At later date we come on the seaman and his ships recorded and portrayed +with a loving enthusiasm. Richard Hakluyt—"with great charges and infinite +cares, after many watchings, toiles and travels, and wearying out" of his weak +body—sets out for us a wonderful chronicle of the shipping to his day. He grew +familiarly acquainted with the chiefest 'Captaines,' the greatest merchants, +and the best mariners of our nation, and acquired at first hand somewhat more +than common knowledge of the sea. He saw not only the waving banners of +sea-warriors and the magnificence of their martial encounters, but lauded +victory in far voyages, the opening to commerce of distant lands, the hardihood +of the Merchant Venturers. He realized the value of the seaman to the nation, +not alone to fight battles on the sea, but as skilful navigators to further trade +and intercourse. He was not ignorant "that shippes are to litle purpose without +skillfull Sea-men; and since Sea-men are not bred up to perfection of skill in +much lesse time than in the time of two prentiships; and since no kinde of +men of any profession in the commonwealth passe their yeres in so great and +continuall hazard of life; and since of so many, so few grow to gray heires; +how needful it is that . . . these ought to have a better education, than hitherto +they have had."</p> + +<p>His matchless patience and care and exactitude were only equalled by +his pride in the doings of the seamen and the merchants. With a joyful humility +he exults in the hoisting of our banners in the Caspian Sea—not as robber +marauders, but as peaceful traders under licence and ambassade—at the station +of an English Ligier in the stately porch of the Grand Signior at Constantinople, +at consulates at Tripolis and Aleppo, in Babylon and Balsara—"and which is +more, at English Shippes coming to anker in the mighty river of Plate." In +script and tabulation he glories in the tale of the ships, and sets out the names +and stations of humble merchant supercargoes with the same meticulous care +as the rank and titles of the Captain-General of the Armada.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<p>Alas! There was none to set a similarly gifted hand to the further course +of his lone furrow. Purchas tried, but there was no great love of his subject-matter +to spread a glamour on the pages. Perhaps the magnitude of the task, +ever growing and gathering, and the minute and unwearying succession of +Hakluyt's "Navigations and Traffiques," discouraged and deterred less ardent +followers. Of voyages and expeditions and discoveries there are volumes +enough, but few such intimate records as "the Oathe ministered to the servants +of the Muscovie company," or the instructions given by the Merchant Adventurers +unto Richard Gibbs, William Biggatt, and John Backhouse, masters of +their ships, have been written since Hakluyt turned his last page.</p> + +<p>As outposts to our field, roving bands on a frontier that rises and falls with +the tide, the seamen were ever the first to apprehend the mutterings of war. +With but little needed to set spark to the torch, they came in to foreign seaport +or littoral with a fine confidence in their ships and arms. Truculent perhaps, +and overbearing in their pride of long voyaging over a mysterious and threatening +sea, they were hardly the ambassadors to aid settlement of a dispute by +frank goodwill and prudence. Sailing outwith the confines of ordered government, +their lawless outlook and freebooting found a ready rejoinder in restraint +of trade and arbitrary imprisonment. Long wars had their seed in tavern brawls, +enforcement "to stoope gallant [lower topsail] and vaile their bonets" for a +puissant king or queen, brought a reckoning of strife and bloodshed.</p> + +<p>Although military sea-captains, the glory of their victories, the worthiness +of their ships and appurtenances, figure largely on the pages of subsequent sea-history, +not a great deal has been written of the sailor captains and their mates +and crews. Later chroniclers were concerned that their subjects should be +grand and combatant: there was little room in their text for trading ventures, +or for such humble recitals as the tale and values of hogshead or caisse or bale. +A line of demarcation was slowly but inevitably ruling a division of our sea-forces. +The service of the ships, devoted indifferently to sea-warfare or oversea +trading—as the nation might be at war or peace—was in process of adjustment +to meet the demands of a new sea-attack. The vessels were no longer merely +floating platforms from which a military leader could direct a plan of rude +assault and engage the arms of his soldiery, leaving to the masters and seamen +the duty of handling the way of the ship. A new aristocracy had arisen from +the decks who saw, in the pull of their sails, a weapon more powerful than shock +ordnance, and resented the dictation of landsmen on their own sea-province. +Sea-warfare had become a contest, more of seamanship and manœuvre, less of +stunning impact and a weight of military arms.</p> + +<p>In division of the ships and their service, it may quite properly be claimed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +that the Merchants' Service remained the parent trunk from which the new +Navy—a gallant growing limb—drew sap and sustenance, perhaps, in turn, +improving the growth of the grand old tree. Certainly their service was an +offshoot, for, since Henry VIII ordered laying of the first especial war keel, the +sea-battles to the present day have been largely joined by the ships and men +and furniture of the merchants, carrying on in the historic traditional manner +of a fight when there was fighting to be done, a return to trade and enterprise +when the great sea-roads were cleared to commerce. Stout old Sir John Hawkins, +Frobisher, Drake, Davis, Amadas, and Barlow were merchant masters, shrewd +at a venture, in intervals of, and combination with, their deeds of arms. Only a +small proportion of State ships were in issue with the merchants' men to scourge +the great Armada from our shores. Perhaps the existence of such a vast reserve +in ships and men delayed the progress of purely naval construction. Only with +the coming of steam was the line drawn sharply and definitely—the branch +outgrowing the interlock of the parent stem.</p> + +<p>With partial severance and division of the ships, the seamen—who had been +for so long of one breed, laying down sail-needle and caulking-iron to serve +ordnance and hand-cutlass or boarding-pike—had reached a parting of the ways, +and become naval or mercantile as their habits lay. The State war vessels, +built and manned and maintained for strictly military uses, increased in strength +and numbers. Their officers and crews developed a new seamanship and +discipline that had little counterpart on the commercial vessels. For a time +the two services sailed, if not in company, within sight and hail of one another. +On occasion they joined to effect glorious issues, but, with the last broadside +of war, courses were set that quickly swerved the fleets apart.</p> + +<p>Longer terms of peace gave opportunity for development on lines that were +as poles apart. The Naval Service perfected and exercised their engines of war, +and drilled and seasoned their men to automaton-like subservience to their +plans. A broadening to democratic freedom, quickened by familiar intercourse +with other nationals, had effect with the merchantmen in rousing a reluctance +to a resort to arms; they desired but a free continuance of trading relations. +Although differing in their operations and ideals, both services were striving to +enhance the sea-power of the nation. Thomas Cavendish, Middleton, Monson, +Hudson, and Baffin—merchant masters—explored the unknown and extended +a field for mercantile ventures, but that field could have been but indifferently +maintained if naval power had not been advanced to protect the merchantmen +in their voyaging.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a> +<img src="images/i-026.jpg" width="600" height="421" alt="THE BRIDGE OF A MERCHANTMAN" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE BRIDGE OF A MERCHANTMAN</span> +</div> + +<p>As their separation developed, relations grew the more distant between the +seamen. While certainly protecting the traders from any foreign interference,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +the new Navy did little to effect a community of interest with their sea-fellows. +Prejudices and distrust grew up. State jealousies and trade monopolies formed +a confusion of interests and made for strained relations between the merchants +and the naval chancelleries on shore. At sea, the arbitrary exercise of authority +by the King's officers was opposed by revolutionary instincts for a free sea on +the part of the merchants' seamen. Forcible impressment to naval service was +the worst that could befall the traders' men. For want of energy or ability to +carry through the drudgery of early sea-training, the naval officers took toll of +the practised commercial seamen as they came in from sea. Bitter hardship +set wedge to the cleavage. After long and perilous voyaging, absent from a +home port for perhaps two or three years, the homeward-bound sailor had little +chance of being allowed a term of liberty on shore—a brief landward turn to +dissolve the salt casing of his bones. Within sound of his own church bells, in +sight of the windmills and the fields and the home dwelling he had longed for, +he was haled to hard and rigorous sea-service on vessels of war. The records of +the East India Company have frequent references to this cruel exercise of naval +tyranny.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"On Thursday morning the Directors received the agreeable news of the +safe arrival of the <i>Devonshire</i>, Captain Prince, from Bengal. . . . Her men +have all been impressed by the Men-of-War in the Downs, and other hands +were put on board to bring her up to her moorings in the River."</p> + +<p>". . . On Sunday morning the Purser of the <i>William</i>, Captain Petre, +arrived in town, who brought advice of the said ship in the Downs, richly +laden, on Account of the Turkey Company: the Ships of War in the Downs +impressed all her men, and put others on board to bring her up."</p> + +<p>"Notwithstanding the Report spread about, fourteen days ago, that no +more sailors would be impressed out of the homeward-bound ships, several +ships that arrived last week had all their men taken from them in the Downs."</p></div> + +<p>Serving by turns, as his agility to dodge the gangs was rated, on King's ship +for a turn, then hauling bowline on a free vessel; forced and hunted and +impressed, the shipmen had perhaps sorry records to offer the historian, then +busy with the enthralling chronicles of fleet engagements and veiling with +glamour the toll of battles. Perhaps it was, after all, the better course to preserve +a silence on the traders' doings and leave to romantic conjecture a continuance +of Hakluyt's patient story.</p> + +<p>Since the date of naval offgrowth, the chronicles have not often turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +on our commercial path. Lone voyages and encounters with the sea and +storm are minor enterprises to the sack of cities and the clash of arms at +sea. Unlike the Naval Service, we merchants' men hold few recorded titles to +our keystone in the national fabric. The deeds and documents may exist, but +they are lost to us and forgotten in the files of musty ledgers. The fruits of +our efforts stand in the balances of commercial structure, and are perhaps more +enduring than a roll of record. But, if we are insistent in our search, we may +borrow from the naval charters, and read that not all the glory of our sea-history +lies with the thunder of broadsides and the impact of a close boarding. +Engagement with the elements—a contest with powers more cruel and implacable +than keen steel—efforts to further able navigation, the standard +of our seamanship—drew notable recruits to the humbler sea-life. The small +crews and less lavish gear on the freighters brought the essentials of the sea-trade +to each individual of the ship's company. Idlers and landsmen learned +quickly and bitterly that their only claim to existence on a merchant's ship lay +in a rapid acquisition of a skill in seamanship. The lessons and the threats +and enforcements did not come wholly from their superiors, to whose tyranny +they might expose a sullen obstinance, and gain, perhaps, a measure of sympathy +from their rude sea-fellows. Then—as later, in the keen sailing days of our +clipper ships—their hardest taskmasters were foremast hands, watchmates, the +men they lived with and ate with and worked with—bitter critics, unpersuadable, +who saw only menace and a threat to their own safety in the shipping of a man +who could not do man's work. On the decks and about the spars of a merchant +vessel, each man of the few seamen carried two lives—his own and a shipmate's—in +his ability to 'hand, reef, and steer.' There was no place on board for a +'waister,' a 'swabber,' longshoreman, or sea labourer. Every man had quickly +to prove his ability: the unrelenting sea gave time for few essays.</p> + +<p>Fertility of resource, dexterity to serve at all duties, skill at handling ship +and canvas, were the results of sea-ship training. In the merchantmen great +opportunities offered for advancement in all branches of the seaman's art. Long +voyaging was better exercise for a progression in navigation than the daily +pilotage of the war vessels. Blake, in his early days as a merchant supercargo, +learnt his seafaring on rough trading voyages, and his training could not have +been other than sound to persist, through twenty years shore-dwelling as a +merchant at Bridgwater, until he was called from his counting-house to command +our naval forces. Dampier was a tarry foremast hand in his day: whatever +we may judge of his conduct, we can have nothing but admiration for his seamanship. +Ill-equipped and short-handed, racked by sea-sores and scurvy, his +expeditions were unparalleled as a triumph of merchant sea-skill. James Cook<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +learned his trade on the grimy hull of an east-coast collier—to this day we are +working on charts of his masterly surveys.</p> + +<p>In later years the merit of the trading vessels as sterling sea-schools was +equally plain. During intervals of combatant service, or as prelude to a naval +career, training on the merchants' ships was eagerly sought by ardent naval +seamen who saw the value of its resource in practical seamanship, in navigation, +and weather knowledge. Great captains did not disdain the measure of the +instruction. They sent their heirs to sea in trading vessels to draw an essence +in practice from their sea-cunning. Hardy, Foley, and Berry had borne a hand +at the sheets and braces, and had steered a lading of goods abroad, before they +came to high command of the King's ships. Who knows what actions in the +victories of Copenhagen, the Nile, and Trafalgar (hinged on the cast of the winds) +were governed by Nelson's early sea-lessons, under Master John Rathbone, on +the decks of a West India merchantman?</p> + +<p>For long after, relations and interchange between the two Services were not +so intimate. Until coming of the Great War, with a mutual appreciation, we +had little in common. Our friend and peacemaker—the influence of seafaring +under square sail—languished a while, then died. In steam-power, with its +growth of development and intricacy of application, we found no worthy successor +to present as good an office. In the long span of a hundred years of sea-peace +we grew apart. The gulf between the two great Services widened to a breach +that only the rigours of a world-conflict could reconcile.</p> + +<p>As though exhausted by the indefinite sea-campaign of 1812, the Royal +Navy lay on their oars and saw their commercial sea-fellows forge ahead on a +course that revolutionized sea-transport and sea-warfare alike. The Lords of +the Admiralty would listen to no deprecation of their gallant old wooden walls: +steam propulsion was laughed at. To the Merchants' Service they left the risk +and the responsibility of venturing afar in the rude new ships. In this wise, +to us fell the honour of leading the State service to a new order of seafaring. +Iron hulls and steam propulsion came first under our hands. It was not long +before our new command of the sea was noted. Somewhat grudgingly, the +conservative sea-mandarins were brought to a knowledge that their torpor was +fatal. The Navy stirred and lost little time in traversing the leeway. They progressed +on a path of experiment and probation suited to their needs, striving +to construct mightier vessels and to forge new and greater arms. Exploring +every avenue in their quest for aid and material, every byway for furtherance +of their aims, they drew strange road-fellows within their ranks, new workmen +to the sea. The engines of their adoption called for crafty hands to serve and +adjust them. Steam we knew in our time and could understand, but auxiliary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +mechanics outgrew the limits of our comprehension; naval practice became +a science outwith the bounds of our sea-lore, a new trade, whose only likeness +to ours lay in its service on the same wide sea.</p> + +<p>Parted from the need to draw arms, secure in the knowledge of adequate +naval protection, the Merchants' Service developed their ships and tackle in the +ways of a free world trade. By shrewd engagement and industry in the counting-house, +diligence and forethought in the building-yards, keen sailing and efficiency +on the sea, the structure of our maritime supremacy was built up and maintained. +Monopolies and hindering trade reservations and restrictions barred the way, +but yielded to the spirit of our progress. Vested interests in seas and continents +had to be fought and conquered, and there was room and scope for lingering +combative instincts in the keen competition that arose for the world's carrying +trade. Other nations came on the free seas, secure in the peace our arms had +wrought, and entered the lists against us. The challenge to our seafaring we +met by skill and hardihood—keener and more polished arms than the weapons +of our sea-fathers. The coming of competitors spurred us to sea-deeds in the +handling of our ships and cargoes, dispatch in the ports, and activity in the +yards, that brought acknowledged victory to our flag. Every sense and thought +that was in us was used to further our supremacy. The craft and workmanship +of the builders and enterprise of the merchants provided us with the most +beautiful of man's creations on the sea—the square-rigged sailing ship of the +nineteenth century. With pride we sailed her. We, too, brought science to +our calling; rude, perhaps, and not readily defined save by a long, hard pupilage. +Not less than the calibre of the new naval ordnance was the measure of our +sail spread, not inferior to ironclad hulls the speed and beauty of our clippers—we +paralleled the roads of their strategy by the masterly handling of a cloud in +sail. With a regularity and precision as noted as our naval sea-brothers' advance +in gunfire, we served the trade and the mails, and spread the flood of emigration +to the rise and glory of the Empire.</p> + +<p>With the decline of square sail, a new way of seafaring opened to us. In +the first of our steam pioneering, we took our yards and canvas with us, as good +part of our sea-kit; a safe provision, as we thought, against the inevitable +failure we looked for in the new navigation. We were conservatively jealous +of our gallant top hamper, and scorned the promise of a power that only dimly +as yet we understood. But—the promise held. In a few years we became +converts to the new order, in which we found a greater security, a more definite +reliance, than in the angles of our sail plane. There was no longer a need for our +precious 'stand by,' and we unrigged the wind tackle and accepted our new +shipmate, the marine engineer, as a worthy brother seaman. It was not only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +the spars and the cordage and the sails we put ashore. With all the gallant +litter we unloaded, condemned to the junk-heap, went a part of our seamanship +as closely woven to the canvas as the seams our hands had sewn.</p> + +<p>In steam practice, new problems required to be studied and resolved; +challenges to our vaunted sea-lore came up that called for radical revision of +older methods and ideas. Changes, as wide and drastic as the evolutions of a +decade in sail, were presented in a swift succession of as many days. With eyes +now turned from aloft to ahead, we retyped our seamanship to meet the altered +conditions of the veer in our outlook. Unhelped, if unhindered, in our efforts, +we adapted our calling to the sudden and revolutionary innovations in construction +and power of the new ships. We grew sensible of gaps in our knowledge, +of voids in education that our earlier handicraft had not revealed. Severed, +by press of our sea-work, from the facilities for study that now offered advancement +to the landsman, we sought in alert and constant practice a substitute +for technical instruction. By step and stride and canter we jockeyed each new +starter from the shipyards, and studied their paces and behaviour on the vexed +testing courses of the open sea. If our methods were rude in trial, they settled +to efficiency in service. We paced in step with the rapid developments of the +shipwright's art, the not less active contrivance of the engineers. We kept no +man waiting for a sea-controller to his new and untried machine: there was no +whistling for a pilot on the grounds of our reaches. From oversea dredger and +frail harbour tug to the magnitude of an <i>Aquitania</i>, we were ever ready to board +her on the launching ways and steer her to the limits of her draught.</p> + +<p>A Hakluyt of the day would have a full measure for his enthusiasm in the +shear of our keels on every sea, the flutter of our flags to all the winds. By +virtue of worthy vessels and good seamanship, the Red Ensign was devoted to +a world service; by good guardianship and commercial rectitude the Merchants' +Service held charge of the world's wealth in transport—the burden of the ships. +All nations put trust in us for sea-carriage. The Spanish onion-grower on the +slopes of Valencia, the Java sugar merchants, the breeders of Plata, looked to +their harbours for sight of our hulls to load their products. Greek boatmen took +payment for their cases on a scrap of dingy paper; the tide-labourers of the +world demanded no earnest of their fees ere setting to work—our flag was their +guarantor. The incoming of our ships brought throng to the quay-sides of far +seaports; the outgoing sent the prospering merchants to the bank counters, +to draw value from our skill in navigation, our integrity, and sea-care.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><br />THE STRUCTURE</h3> + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">The</span> avalanche of war found us, if unprepared, not unready. The Merchants' +Service was in the most efficient state of all its long story. Bounteous harvests +had set a tide of prosperity to all parts of the world. Trade had reached the +summit of a register in volume and account. The transport of the world's +goods was busied as never before. With every outward stern wash went a full +lading of our manufactures—a bulk of coal, a mass of wrought steel; foam at +the bows—returning, brought exchange in food and raw materials, grist to the +mills of our toiling artisans—a further provision for continuation of our trading. +There were no idle keels swinging the tides in harbour for want of profitable +employment; no seamen lounging on the dockside streets awaiting a 'sight' +to sign-on for a voyage. Bulk of cargoes exceeded the tonnage of the ships, +and the riverside shipyards resounded to the busy clamour of new construction. +Advanced systems of propulsion had emerged from tentative stages, were fully +tried and proved, and owners were adding to their fleets the latest and largest +vessels that art of shipwrights and skill of the engineers could supply. We +were well built and well found and well employed in all respects, not unready +for any part that called us to sea.</div> + +<p>On such a stage the gage was thrown. Right on the heels of the courier +with challenge accepted, went the ships laden with a new and precious cargo—our +gallant men-at-arms. Before a shot of ours was fired, the first blow in the +conflict was swung by passage of the ships: throughout the length of it, only +by the sea-lanes could the shock be maintained.</p> + +<p>Viewing the numbers and tonnage of the ships, the roll and character of the +seamen, we were not uneasy for the sea-front. With the most powerful war +fleet in the world boarding on the coasts of the enemy, we had little to fear. +The transports and war-service vessels could be adequately safeguarded: the +peaceful traders on their lawful occasions could trust in international law of the +civilized seas, on which no destruction may be effected without cause, prefaced +by examination. Of raiders and detached war units there might be some +apprehension, but the White Ensign was abroad and watchful—it was impossible +that the shafts of the enemy could reach us on the sea. For a time we set +out on our voyages and returned without interference.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 404px;"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a> +<img src="images/i-034.jpg" width="404" height="600" alt="THE OLD AND THE NEW THE MARGARET OF DUBLIN AND R.M.S. TUSCANIA" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE OLD AND THE NEW<br /> +THE <i>MARGARET</i> OF DUBLIN AND R.M.S. <i>TUSCANIA</i></span> +</div> + +<p>Anon, an amazing circumstance shocked our blythe assurance. In a new +warfare, by traverse of a route we thought was barred, the impossible became +a stern reality! While able, by power of their ships and skill and gallantry of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +the men, to keep the surface naval forces of the enemy doomed to ignoble +harbour watch, the mightiest war fleet the seas had ever carried was impotent +wholly to protect us! Our Achilles heel was exposed to merciless under-water +attack, to a new weapon, deadly in precision and difficult to counter or evade. +Throwing to the winds all shreds of honour and conscionable restraint, all +vestiges of a sea-respect for non-combatants and neutrals, the pacts and bounds +of international law—the humane sea-usages that spared women and children +and stricken wounded—the decivilized German set up the banners of a stark +piracy, an ocean anarchy, to whose lieutenants the sea-wolves of an earlier age +were but feeble enervated weaklings.</p> + +<p>Piracy, gloried in and undisguised, faced us. Well and definite! We had +known piracy in the long years of our sea-history: we had dealt with their trade +to a full settlement at yard-arm or gallows. The course of our seafaring was +not to be arrested by even the deep roots and deadly poison of this not unknown +sea-growth: we had scaled the foul barnacles and cut the rank weeds before +in the course of sea-development. If our ways had become peaceful in the +long years of unchallenged trading, our habits were never less than combatant +throughout a life of struggle with storm and tide. Not while we had a ship +and a man to the helm would we be driven from the sea; our hard-won heritage +was not to be delivered under threat or operation of even the most surpassing +frightfulness. Jealousy for our seafaring, for our name as sailors, forbade +that we should skulk in harbour or linger behind the nets and booms. Our +work, our livelihood, our proud sea-trade, our honour was on the open sea. +Our pride was this—that, in our action, we would be followed by the seafarers +of the world. It was for no idle vaunt we boasted our supremacy at +sea. If we could take first place of the world's seamen in time of peace, our +station was to lead in war. We put out to sea—the neutrals followed. Had +we held to port, German orders would have halted the sea-traffic of the world. +With no shield but our seamanship, no weapon but the keenness of our eyes, no +power of defence or assault other than the swing of a ready helm, we met the +pirates on the sea, with little pretension in victory and no whining in defeat.</p> + +<p>Challenged to stand and submit, the <i>Vosges</i> answered with a cant of the +helm and hoist of her flag, and stood on her way under a merciless hail of shot. +Unarmed, outsped, there was little prospect of escape—only, in an obstinate +sea-pride, lay acceptance of the challenge. With decks littered by wreckage +and wounded, bridge swept by shrapnel, water making through her torn hull, +there was no thought to lay-to and droop the flag in surrender. When, at +length, the ensign was shot away, there were men enough to hoist another. In +hours their agony was measured, until, in despair of completing his foul work,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +the enemy gave up the contest. Reeking of the combat, the <i>Vosges</i> foundered +under her wounds. The sea took her from her gallant crew, but they had not +given up the ship—their flag still fluttered at the peak as she went down. <i>Anglo-Californian</i> +fought a grim, silent fight for four hours, matching the intensity of +the German gunfire by the dogged quality of her mute defiance. <i>Palm Branch</i> +turned away from galling fire at short range, double-banked the press in the +stokehold, and cut and turned on her course to confuse the ranges. Her stern +was shattered by shell, the lifeboats blown away; the apprentice at the wheel +stood to his job with blood running in his eyes. Fire broke out and added a +new terror to the situation. There was no flinching. Through it all the engines +turned steadily, driven to their utmost speed by the engineers and firemen. A +one-sided affair—a floating hell for seamen to stand by, helpless, and take a +frightful gruelling! But they stood to it, and came to port.</p> + +<p>If, under new and treacherous blows, our hearts beat the faster, there was +little pause, no stoppage, in the steady coursing of our sea-arteries. We fought +the menace with the same spirit our old sea-fathers knew. Undeterred by the +ghastly handicap against us—the galling fetters of a policy that kept us unarmed, +we pitted our brains and seamanship against the murderous mechanics of the +enemy. To the new under-water attack there were few adequate counter-measures +in the records of our old seafaring. We revised the standard manual, drew text +from old games, shield from the cuttlefish, models for our sweeps from discarded +sea-tackle. Special devices, new plans, stern services were called for; we +devised, we specialized—our readiness was never more instant. Out of our +strength we built up a new Service. Instruction and equipment came from the +Royal Navy, but the men were ours. In the throes of our exertions the +Merchants' Service repeated a tradition. The stout aged tree shot forth another +worthy limb—a second Navy—not less ardent or resourceful than the first +offshoot, now grown to be our guardian.</p> + +<p>Our branches twined and interlocked in service of a joint endeavour. Under +the fierce blast of war we swayed and weighed together in shield of our ancient +foundation. Within our ranks we had cunning fishers, keen, resolute sea-fighters +of the banks, to whom the coming of a strange mechanical devil-fish +offered a new zest to the chase, a famous netting. Enrolled to Special Service, +they engaged the enemy at his doorstep and patrolled the areas of his outset. +Undaunted by the odds, deterred by no risk or threat, they ranged and searched +the sea-channels and cleared the lanes for our safe passage. To detect, to warn, +to meet and counter-charge the submarine in his depths, to safeguard the +narrow seas from hazard of the mines, was all in the day's work of the +<i>Temporary</i> R.N.R.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> + +<p>Throughout all the enrolments, the divisions, the changes, and the training +for new and special duties, there was no easing of the engines: we effected our +adjustments and allotments under a full head of steam. All that the enemy +could do could not prevent the steady reinforcement of our arms, the passage +of our men, the transport of our trade. The long lines of our sea-communications +remained unbroken, despite our losses and the grim spectre of the raft and the +open boat. It could not be otherwise—and Britain stand. There could be no +halt in the sea-traffic. Only from abroad could we draw supplies to raise the +new leaguer of our island garrison; only by way of the sea could we retain and +renew our strength.</p> + +<p>In time the intolerable shackles of inactive resistance were struck from our +hands. Somewhat tardily we were supplied with weapons of defence and +instructed in their use and maintainance. We went to school again, under +tutelage of the Naval Service, and drew a helpful assistance from the tale of +their courses since we had parted company. We were heartened by the new +spirit of co-operation with the fighting service. Ungrudgingly they lent experts +to direct our movement. They turned a stream of their inventive talent in the +ways of gear and apparatus to protect our ships. They shipped our ordnance, +and supplied skilled gunners to leaven our rude crews. More, they helped to +strip the veneer of convention that hampered us—our devotion to standard +practice in rules and lights and equipment. We learned our lessons. Even +though the peaceful years had lessened our fighting spring, we had lost no aptitude +for service of the guns in defence of our rights, nor for measure to deceive +or evade. Armed and alert, we returned to the sea, confident in the discard of +a weight in our handicap. We could strike back, and with no feeble blow—as +the pirates soon learned.</p> + +<p>There were scores to settle. <i>Palm Branch</i>, belying her tranquil name, took +a payment in full for her shattered stern and the blood running in the steersman's +eyes. Keen eyes sighted a periscope in time. The helm was put over +and the white track raced across the stern, missing by feet. Baffled in under-water +attack, the enemy hove up from his depths to open surface fire. He +never had opportunity. If look-out was good, gun action was as quick and +ready in <i>Palm Branch</i>. Her first shot struck the conning-tower, the second +drove home on the submarine, which sank. While all eyes were focused on +the settling wash and spreading scum of oil, a new challenge came and was as +speedily accepted. A shell, fired by a second submarine at long range, passed +over the steamer. Slewing round to a new target, the gunners kept up a steady +return, shot for shot. The submarine dropped farther astern, fearing the probe +of a bracket: he angled his course to bring both his guns in action. Two pieces<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +against the steamer's one! At that, he fared no better. Firing continuously, +eighty rounds in less than an hour, he registered not one hit.</p> + +<p>At length <i>Palm Branch's</i> steady, methodical search for the range had effect. +Her gunners capped the day's fine shooting by a direct hit on the submarine's +after-gun, shattering the piece. At evens again—the U-boat ceased fire and +drew off, possibly under threat of British patrols approaching at full speed, more +probably for the good and sufficient reason that he had had enough.</p> + +<p>Not all our contests were as happily decided. If—shirking the issue of the +guns, with no zest for a square fight—the German went to his depths, he had +still the deadly torpedo to enforce a toll. The toll we paid and are paying, +but there is no stoppage in the round by which the nation is fed and her arms +served. The burden is heavy and our losses great, but we have not failed. +We dare not fail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-040.jpg" width="500" height="396" alt="IN A MERCHANTMAN—BOMB-THROWER PRACTICE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">IN A MERCHANTMAN—BOMB-THROWER PRACTICE</span> +</div> + +<h2>II</h2> + +<h3>OUR RELATIONS WITH THE NAVY</h3> + + +<h3><br />JOINING FORCES</h3> + +<div class='cap'>AFTER an interval of a hundred years, we are come to work together +again, banded, as in the days of the Armada, to keep the seas against +a ruthless challenger. In view of a new blood-bond between us, it is +difficult to write coldly of the causes that have kept us apart. Only by preface +of an affirmation can it be made possible. Through all our differences, prejudices, +envies—perhaps jealousies—there ran at least one clear unsullied thread—our +admiration for the Navy, our glory in its strength and power, our belief in its +matchless efficiency.</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>We seamen, naval or mercantile, are a stout unmovable breed. Tenacity +to our convictions is deeply rooted. The narrow trends of shipboard life give +licence to a conservatism that out-Herods Herod in intensity, unreason—in +utter sophistry. We extend this atmosphere to our relationships, to the associations +with the beach, with other sea-services, with other ships—to the absurd +pretensions of the other watch. "A sailorman afore a landsman, an' a shipmate +afore all," may be a useful creed, but it engenders a contentious outlook, +an intolerance difficult to reconcile. In the fo'c'sle, the upholding of a 'last +ship' may lead to a broken nose; aft, the officers may quarrel, wordily, over +the grades of their service; ashore, the captain may only reserve his confidences +for a peer of his tonnage; over all, the distance between the Naval and Merchants' +Services was immeasurable and complete.</p> + +<p>If it was so to this date, it was perhaps more intense in the old days when +common seafaring had not set as broad a distinction, as widely divergent a +sea-practice, as our modern services shew. That such a contentious atmosphere +existed we have ample witness. After experience as a merchants' man, Nelson +wrote of his re-entry. "I returned a practical seaman with a horror of the +Royal Navy. . . . It was many weeks before I got the least reconciled to a +man-o'-war, so deep was the prejudice rooted!" We have no such noted +record of a merchant seaman re-entering from the Navy. Doubtless the laxity +and indiscipline he might observe would produce a not dissimilar revulsion.</p> + +<p>In the years that have elapsed since Nelson wrote, we have had few opportunities +to compose our differences, to get on better terms with one another. +The course of naval development took the great war fleets hull down on our +commercial horizon, beyond casual intercommunication. On rare and widely +separated occasions we fell into an expedition together, but the unchallenged +power of the naval forces only served to heighten the barriers that stood between +us. At the Crimea, in India, on the Chinese and Egyptian expeditions, during +the Boer War, we were important links in the venture, but no more important +than the cargoes we ferried. There was no call for any service other than +our usual sea-work. The Navy saw to it that our comings and goings were +unmolested. We were sea-civilians, purely and simply; there was nothing +more to be said about it.</p> + +<p>If little was said, it was with no good grace we took such a station. There +were those who saw that seafaring could not thus arbitrarily be divided. Other +nations were stirring and striving to a naval strength and power, drawing aid +and personnel from their mercantile services. Sea-strength and paramountcy +might not wholly come to be measured in terms of thickness of the armour-plating—in +calibre of the great guns. Auxiliary services would be required.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +The Navy could no more work without us than the Army without a Service +Corps.</p> + +<p>The Royal Naval Reserve came as a link to our intercourse. Certain of +our shipmates left us for a period of naval training. They came back changed +in many particulars. They had acquired a social polish, were perhaps less +'sailor-like' in their habits. As a rule they were discontented with the way +of things in their old ships; the quiet rounds bored them after the crowded +life in a warship. We were frequently reminded of how well and differently +things were done in <i>the</i> Service. Perhaps, in return, we took the wrong line. +We made no effort to sift their experiences, to find out how we might improve +our ways. Often our comrade's own particular shrewdness was cited as a reason +for the better ways of naval practice. We were rather irritated by the note +of superiority assumed, perhaps somewhat jealous. Had commissions been +granted on a competitive basis, we might have accepted such a tone, but we +had our own way of assessing sea-values, and saw no reason why we should +stand for these new airs. What was in it, what had wrought the change, we +were never at pains to investigate. It was enough for us to note that, though +his watch-keeping was certainly improved, our re-entered shipmate did not +seem to be as efficient as a navigator or cargo supervisor as once we had thought +him. All his talk of drills and guns and station-keeping considered, he seemed +to have quite forgotten that groundnuts are thirteen hundredweights to the +space ton and ought not to be stowed near fine goods!</p> + +<p>On the other hand, he might reasonably be expected to see his old shipmates +in a new light. Rude, perhaps. Of limited ideas. Tied to the old +round of petty bickerings and small intrigues. He would note the want of trusty +brotherhood. His sojourn among better-educated men may have roused his +ideas to an appreciation of values that deep-sea life had obscured. The lack +of the discipline to which he had become accustomed would appal and disquiet +him. In time he would be worn to the rut again, but who can say the same +rut? Unconsciously, we were influenced by his quieter manners. In self-study +we saw faults that had been unnoticed before his return. Reviewing our hard +sea-life, we recalled our exclusion from benefits of instruction that went a-begging +on the beach. We stirred. There might yet be time to make up the leeway.</p> + +<p>The influence of naval training was never very pronounced among the seamen +and firemen of the Merchants' Service who were attached to the R.N.R. Their +periods of training were too short for them to be permanently influenced by the +discipline of the Navy (or our indiscipline on their return to us may have blighted +a promising growth!) On short-term training they were rarely allotted to +important work. The governing attitude was rather that they should be used as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +auxiliaries, mercantile handymen, in a ship. If there was a stowage of stores, +cleaning up of bilges, chipping and scaling of iron rust—well, here was mercantile +Jack, who was used to that kind of work; who better for the job? Generally, +he returned to his old ways rather tired of Navy 'fashion' and discipline, and +one saw but little influence of his temporary service on a cruiser. Usually, he +was a good hand, to begin with: he sought a post on good ships: with his +papers in order we were very glad to have him back.</p> + +<p>In few other ways did we come in touch with the Navy. At times the misfortune +of the sea brought us into a naval port for assistance in our distress. +Certainly, assistance was readily forthcoming, a full measure, but in a somewhat +cold and formal way that left a rankling impression that we were not—well, we +were not perhaps desirable acquaintances. The naval manner was not unlike +that of a courteous prescribing chemist over his counter. "Have you had the +pain—long?" "Is there any—coughing?" We had always the feeling that +they were bored by our custom, were anxious to get back to the mixing of new +pills, to their experiments. We were not very sorry when our repairs were +completed and we could sail for warmer climates.</p> + +<p>With the outbreak of war the R.N.R. was instantly mobilized. Their outgoing +left a sensible gap in our ranks, a more considerable rift than we had +looked for. Example drew others on their trodden path, our mercantile seamen +were keen for fighting service; the unheralded torpedo had not yet struck home +on their own ships. Commissions to a new entry of officers were still limited and +capricious—the <i>Hochsee Flotte</i> had not definitely retired behind the booms at +Kiel and Wilhelmshaven, to weave a web of murder and assassination. For a +short term we sailed on our voyages, on a steady round, differing but little from +our normal peace-time trade.</p> + +<p>A short term. The enemy did not leave us long secure in our faith in civilized +sea-usage. Our trust in International Law received a rude and shattering shock +from deadly floating mine and racing torpedo. Paralysed and impotent to +venture a fleet action, the German Navy was to be matched not only against +the commercial fleets of Britain and her Allies, but against every merchant +ship, belligerent or neutral. There was to be no gigantic clash of sea-arms; +action was to be taken on the lines of Thuggery. The German chose his opponents +as he chose his weapons. Assassins' weapons! The knife in the dark—no +warning, no quarter, sink or swim! The 'sea-civilians' were to be driven +from the sea by exercise of the most appalling frightfulness and savagery that +the seas had ever known.</p> + +<p>Under such a threat our sea-services were brought together on a rapid sheer, +a close boarding, in which there was a measure of confusion. It could not have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +been otherwise. The only provision for co-operation, the R.N.R. organization, +was directed to augment the forces of the Navy: there was no anticipation +of a circumstance that would sound a recall. Our machinery was built and +constructed to revolve in one direction; it could not instantly be reversed. +Into an ordered service, ruled by the most minute shades of seniority, the finest +influences of precedence and tradition, there came a need to fit the mixed alloy +of the Merchants' Service. Ready, eager, and willing, as both Services were, +to devote their energies to a joint endeavour, it took time and no small patience +to resolve the maze and puzzle of the jig-saw. Naval officers detailed for our +liaison were of varied moulds. Not many of the Active List could be spared; +our new administrators were mostly recalled from fishing and farming to take +up special duties for which they had few qualifications other than the gold lace +on their sleeves. Some were tactful and clever in appreciation of other values +than a mere readiness to salute, and those drew our affection and a ready +measure of confidence. Others set up plumed Gessler bonnets, to which we +were in no mood to bow. Only our devotion to the emergency exacted a jerk of +our heads. To them we were doubtless difficult and trying. Our free ways did +not fit into their schemes of proper routine. Accustomed to the lines of their +own formal service, to issuing orders only to their juniors, they had no guide +to a commercial practice whereby there can be a concerted service without the +usages of the guard-room. They made things difficult for us without easing +their own arduous task. They objected to our manners, our appearance, to +the clothes we wore. Our diffidence was deemed truculence: our reluctance +to accept a high doctrine of subservience was measured as insubordination.</p> + +<p>The flames of war made short work of our moods and jealousies, prejudices, +and dislikes. A new Service grew up, the <i>Temporary</i> R.N.R., in which we were +admitted to a share in our own governance and no small part in combatant operations +at sea. The sea-going section found outlet for their energy and free scope +for a traditional privateering in their individual ventures against the enemy. +Patrolling and hunting gave high promise for their capacity to work on lines of +individual control. Minesweeping offered a fair field for the peculiar gifts of +seamanship that mercantile practice engenders. Commissioned to lone and +perilous service, they kept the seas in fair weather or foul. Although stationed +largely in the narrow seas, there were set no limits to the latitude and longitude +of their employment. The ice of the Arctic knew them—riding out the bitter +northern gales in their small seaworthy drifters, thrashing and pitching in the +seaway, to hold a post in the chain of our sea-communications. In the Adriatic +warmer tides lapped on their scarred hulls, but brought no relaxing variance +to their keen look-out. For want of a match of their own size, they had the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +undying temerity to call three cheers and engage cruiser ordnance with their +pipe-stems! A service indeed! If but <i>temporary</i> in title, there is permanence +in their record!</p> + +<p>Coincident with our actions on the sea—not alone those of our fighting cubs, +but also those of our trading seamen—a better feeling came to cement our +alliance. First in generous enthusiasm for our struggle against heavy odds, as +they came to understand our difficulties, naval officers themselves set about +to create a happier atmosphere. We were admitted to a voice in the league of +our defence. Administration was adjusted to meet many of our grievances. +Our capacity for controlling much of the machinery of our new movements was +no longer denied. The shreds of old conservatism, the patches of contention +and envy were scattered by a strong free breeze of reasoned service and joint +effort.</p> + +<p>We meet the naval man on every turn of the shore-end of our seafaring. +We have grown to admire him, to like him, to look forward to his coming and +association in almost the same way that we are pleased at the boarding of our +favoured pilots. He fits into our new scheme of things as readily as the Port +Authorities and the Ship's Husband. The plumed bonnets are no longer set up +to attract our awed regard: by a better way than caprice and petulant discourtesy, +the naval officer has won a high place in our esteem. We have borrowed +from his stock to improve our store; better methods to control our manning, +a more dispassionate bearing, a ready subordinance to ensure service. His talk, +too. We use his phrases. We 'carry on'; we ask the 'drill' for this or that; +we speak of our sailing orders as 'pictures,' our port-holes are become 'scuttles.' +The enemy is a 'Fritz,' a depth-charge a 'pill,' torpedoes are 'mouldies.' In +speaking of our ships we now omit the definite article. We are getting on +famously together.</p> + + +<h3><br />AT SEA</h3> + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Although</span> our experience of their assured protection is clear and definite, +our personal acquaintance with the larger vessels of the Navy is not intimate. +Saving the colliers and the oilers and storeships that serve the Fleet, few of us +have seen a 'first-rate' on open sea since the day the Grand Fleet steered north +to battle stations. The strength and influence of the distant ships was plain +to us in the first days of the war even if we had actually no sight of their +grey hulls. While we were able to proceed on our lawful occasions with not +even a warning of possible interference, the mercantile ships of the enemy—being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +abroad—had no course but to seek the protection of a neutral port, not again +to put out to sea under their own colours.</div> + +<p>The operation of a threat to shipping—at three thousand miles distance—was +dramatic in intensity under the light of acute contrast. Entering New York +a few days after war had been declared, we berthed alongside a crack German +liner. Her voyage had been abandoned: she lay at the pier awaiting events. +At the first, we stared at one another curiously. Her silent winches and closed +hatchways, deserted decks and passages, were markedly in contrast to the stir +and animation with which we set about unloading and preparing for the return +voyage. The few sullen seamen about her forecastle leant over the bulwarks +and noted the familiar routine that was no longer theirs. Officers on the bridge-deck +eyed our movements with interest, despite their apparent unconcern. We +were respectfully hostile: submarine atrocities had not yet begun. The same +newsboy served special editions to both ships. The German officers grouped +together, reading of the fall of Liége. Doubtless they confided to one another that +they would soon be at sea again. Five days we lay. At eight o'clock 'flags,' our +bugle-call accompanied the raising of the ensign: the red, white, and black +was hoisted defiantly at the same time. We unloaded, re-loaded, and embarked +passengers, and backed out into the North River on our way to sea again. The +<i>Fürst</i> ranged to the wash of our sternway as we cleared the piers; her hawsers +strained and creaked, then held her to the bollards of the quay.</p> + +<p>Time and again we returned on our regular schedule, to find the German +berthed across the dock, lying as we had left her, with derricks down and her +hatchways closed. . . . We noted the signs of neglect growing on her; guessed +at the indiscipline aboard that inaction would produce. For a while her men +were set to chipping and painting in the way of a good sea-custom, but the days +passed with no release and they relaxed handwork. Her topsides grew rusty, +her once trim and clean paintwork took on a grimy tint. Our doings were plain +to her officers and crew: we were so near that they could read the tallies on the +mailbags we handled: there were no mails from Germany. Loading operations, +that included the embarkation of war material, went on by night and day: +we were busied as never before. The narrow water space between her hull and +ours was crowded by barges taking and delivering our cargo; the shriek of +steam-tugs and clangour of their engine-bells advertised our stir and activity. +On occasion, the regulations of the port obliged the <i>Fürst</i> to haul astern, to +allow working space for the Merritt-Chapman crane to swing a huge piece of +ordnance to our decks. There were rumours of a concealed activity on the +German. "She was coaling silently at night, in preparation for a dash to sea." . . . "German +spies had their headquarters in her." The evening papers had a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +new story of her secret doings whenever copy ran short. All the while she lay +quietly at the pier; we rated her by her draught marks that varied only with +the galley coal she burnt.</p> + +<p>At regular periods her hopeless outlook was emphasized by our sailings. +Officers and crew could not ignore the stir that attended our departure. They +saw the 'blue peter' come fluttering from the masthead, and heard our syren +roar a warning to the river craft as we backed out. We were laden to our marks +and the decks were thronged with young Britons returning to serve their country. +The Fatherland could have no such help: the <i>Fürst</i> could handle no such cargo. +For her there could be no movement, no canting on the tide and heading under +steam for the open sea: the distant ships of the Grand Fleet held her in fetters +at the pier.</p> + +<p>While the Battle Fleet opened the oceans to us, we were not wholly safe from +enemy interference on the high seas in the early stages of the war. German commerce +raiders were abroad; there was need for a more tangible protection to the +merchants' ships on the oversea trade routes. The older cruisers were sent out on +distant patrols. They were our first associates of the huge fleet subsequently +detailed for our defence and assistance. We were somewhat in awe of the naval +men at sea on our early introduction. The White Ensign was unfamiliar. Armed +to the teeth, an officer from the cruiser would board us: the bluejackets of his +boat's crew had each a rifle at hand. "Where were we from . . . where to . . . our +cargo . . . our passengers?" The lieutenant was sternly courteous; he was +engaged on important duties: there was no mood of relaxation. He returned +to his boat and shoved off with not one reassuring grin for the passengers lining +the rails interested in every row-stroke of his whaler. In time we both grew +more cordial: we improved upon acquaintance. The drudgery and monotony +of a lone patrol off a neutral coast soon brought about a less punctilious boarding. +Our <i>procès-verbal</i> had unofficial intervals. "How were things at home? . . . Are +we getting the men trained quickly? . . . What about the Russians?" The +boarding lieutenants discovered the key to our affections—the secret sign that +overloaded their sea-boat with newspapers and fresh mess. "A fine ship you've +got here, Captain!" We parted company at ease and with goodwill. The boat +would cast off to the cheers of our passengers. The great cruiser, cleared for +action with her guns trained outboard, would cant in to close her whaler. Often +her band assembled on the upper deck: the favourite selections were 'Auld +Lang Syne' and 'Will ye no' come back again'—as she swung off on her +weary patrol.</p> + +<p>Submarine activities put an end to these meetings on the sea. Except while +under ocean escort of a cruiser—when our relations by flag signal are studied and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +impersonal—we have now little acquaintance with vessels of that class. Counter-measures +of the new warfare demand the service of smaller vessels. Destroyers +and sloops are now our protectors and co-workers. With them, we are drawn to a +familiar intimacy; we are, perhaps, more at ease in their company, dreading no +formal routine. Admirals are, to us, awesome beings who seclude themselves +behind gold-corded secretaries: commodores (except those who control our +convoys) are rarely sea-going, and we come to regard them as schoolmasters, +tutors who may not be argued with; post-captains in command of the larger +escorts have the brusque assumption of a super-seamanship that takes no +note of a limit in manning. The commanders and lieutenants of the destroyers +and sloops that work with us are different; they are more to our mind—we +look upon them as brother seamen. Like ourselves, they are 'single-ship' +men. They are neither concerned with serious plans of naval strategy nor +overbalanced by the forms and usages of great ship routine. While 'the +bridge' of a cruiser may be mildly scornful upon receipt of an objection to her +signalled noon position, the destroyer captain is less assured: he is more likely +to request our estimate of the course and speed. His seamanship is comparable +to our own. The relatively small crew he musters has taught him to be tolerant +of an apparent delay in carrying out certain operations. In harbour he is frequently +berthed among the merchantmen, and has opportunity to visit the ships +and acquire more than a casual knowledge of our gear and appliances. He is +ever a welcome visitor, frank and manly and candid. Even if there is a dispute +as to why we turned north instead of south-east 'when that Fritz came up,' and +we blanked the destroyer's range, there is not the air of superior reproof that +rankles.</p> + +<p>In all our relations with the Navy at sea there was ever little, if any, friction. +We saw no empty plumed bonnet in the White Ensign. We were proud of the +companionship and protection of the King's ships. Our ready service was never +grudged or stinted to the men behind the grey guns; succour in our distress +was their return. Incidents of our co-operation varied, but an unchanging sea-brotherhood +was the constant light that shone out in small occurrences and +deathly events.</p> + +<p>Dawn in the Channel, a high south gale and a bitter confused sea. Even +with us, in a powerful deep-sea transport, the measure of the weather was +menacing; green seas shattered on board and wrecked our fittings, half of the +weather boats were gone, others were stove and useless. A bitter gale! Under +our lee the destroyer of our escort staggered through the hurtling masses that +burst and curled and swept her fore and aft. Her mast and one funnel were +gone, the bridge wrecked; a few dangling planks at her davits were all that was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +left of her service boats. She lurched and faltered pitifully, as though she had +loose water below, making through the baulks and canvas that formed a makeshift +shield over her smashed skylights. In the grey of the murky dawn there +was yet darkness to flash a message: "<i>In view of weather probably worse as +wind has backed, suggest you run for Waterford while chance, leaving us to carry on +at full speed.</i>" An answer was ready and immediate: "<i>Reply. Thanks. I +am instructed escort you to port.</i>"</p> + +<p>The Mediterranean. A bright sea and sky disfigured by a ring of curling +black smoke—a death-screen for the last agonies of a torpedoed troopship. +Amid her littering entrails she settles swiftly, the stern high upreared, the bows +deepening in a wash of wreckage. Boats, charged to inches of freeboard, lie off, +the rowers and their freight still and open-mouthed awaiting her final plunge. +On rafts and spars, the upturned strakes of a lifeboat, remnants of her manning +and company grip safeguard, but turn eyes on the wreck of their parent hull. +Into the ring, recking nothing of entangling gear or risk of suction, taking the +chances of a standing shot from the lurking submarine, a destroyer thunders +up alongside, brings up, and backs at speed on the sinking transport. Already +her decks are jammed to a limit, by press of a khaki-clad cargo she was never +built to carry. This is final, the last turn of her engagement. The foundering +vessel slips quickly and deeper. "Come along, Skipper! You've got 'em all +off! You can do no more! <i>Jump!</i>"</p> + + +<h3><br />OUR WAR STAFF</h3> + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Some</span> years before the war we were lying at an East Indian port, employed +in our regular trade. The military students of the Quetta Staff College were +in the district, engaged in practical exercise of their staff lessons. On a Sunday +(our loading being suspended) they boarded us to work out in detail a question +of troop transport. It was assumed that our ship was requisitioned in an +emergency, and their problem was to estimate the number of men we could +carry and to plan arrangement of the troop decks. Their inspection was to be +minute; down to the sufficiency of our pots and pans they were required to +investigate and figure out the resources of our vessel. The officer students were +thirty-four in number; at least we counted thirty-four who came to us for clue +to the mysteries of gross and register and dead-weight tonnage. In parties +they explored our holds and accommodation, measured in paces for a rough +survey, and prepared their plans. Their Commandant (a very famous soldier<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +to-day) permitted us to be present when the officers were assembled and their +papers read out and discussed. In general it was estimated that the work of +alteration and fitting the ship for troops would occupy from eight to ten working +days. Our quota—of all ranks—averaged about eleven hundred men.</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-050.jpg" width="500" height="348" alt="A BRITISH SUBMARINE DETAILED FOR INSTRUCTION OF MERCHANT OFFICERS" title="" /> +<span class="caption">A BRITISH SUBMARINE DETAILED FOR INSTRUCTION OF MERCHANT OFFICERS</span> +</div> + +<p>The work was sound and no small ingenuity was advanced in planning +adaptations, but the spirit of emergency did not show an evidence in their +careful papers. The proposed voyage was distinctly stated to be from Newhaven +to Dieppe, and it seemed to us that the elaborate accommodation for a +prison, a guard-room, a hospital, were somewhat ambitious for a six-hour sea-passage. +In conversation with the Commandant, we were of opinion that, to +a degree, their work and pains were rather needless. Carrying passengers +(troops and others) was our business; a trade in which we had been occupied +for some few years. He agreed. He regarded their particular exercise in the +same light as the 'herring-and-a-half' problem of the schoolroom: it was +good for the young braves to learn something of their only gangway to a foreign<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +field. "Of course," he said, "if war comes it will be duty for the Navy to supervise +our sea-transport." We understood that their duty would be to safeguard +our passage, but we had not thought of supervision in outfit. The Commandant +was incredulous when we remarked that we had never met a naval transport +officer, that we knew of no plans to meet such an emergency as that submitted +to his officers. It was evident that his trained soldierly intendance could not +contemplate a situation in which the seamen of the country had no foreknowledge +of a war service; it was amazing to him that we were not already drilled for +duties that might, at any moment, be thrust upon us. Pointing across the dock +to where two vessels of the Bremen Hansa Line were working in haste to catch +the tide, he affirmed that they would be better prepared: <i>their</i> place in mobilization +would be detailed, their duties and services made clear.</p> + +<p>We knew of no plans for our employment in war service; we had no position +allotted to us in measures for emergency. We were sufficiently proud of our +seafaring to understand a certain merit in this apparent lack of prevision: +we took it as in compliment to the efficiency and resource with which our sea-trade +was credited. Was it not on our records that the Isle of Man steamers +transported 58,000 people in the daylight hours of an August Bank Holiday. +A seventy-mile passage. Trippers. Less amenable to ordered direction than +disciplined troops. A day's work, indeed. Unequalled, unbeaten by any record +to date in the amazing statistics of the war. There was no need for supervision +and direction: we knew our business, we could pick up the tune as we marched.</p> + +<p>We did. On the outbreak of war we fell into our places in transport of troops +and military material with little more ado than in handling our peace-time +cargoes. The ship on which the Staff students worked their problems set out +on almost the very route they had planned for her, but with no prison or guard-room +or hospital, and sixteen hundred troops instead of eleven: the time taken +to fit her (including discharge of a cargo) occupied exactly four days. We saw +but little of the naval authority.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a> +<img src="images/i-052.jpg" width="600" height="352" alt="THE D.A.M.S. GUNWHARF AT GLASGOW" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE D.A.M.S. GUNWHARF AT GLASGOW</span> +</div> + +<p>Later, in our war work, we made the acquaintance of the naval transport +officer. Generally, he was not intimate with the working of merchant ships. +His duties were largely those of interpretation. Through him Admiralty passed +their orders: it devolved on the mercantile shore staff of the shipping companies +to carry these orders into execution. If, in transport services, our marine +superintendents and ships' husbands did not share in the honours, it was not +for want of merit. They could not complain of lack of work in the early days +of the war when the transport officer was serving his apprenticeship to the +trade. The absence of a keen knowledge and interest in commercial ship-practice +at the transport office made for complex situations; hesitancies and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +conflicting orders added to the arduous business. Under feverish pressure +a ship would be unloaded on to quay space already congested, ballast be contracted +for—and delivered; a swarm of carpenters, working day and night, +would fit her for carriage of troops. At the eleventh hour some one idly fingering +a tide-table would discover that the vessel drew too much water to cross the +bar of her intended port of discharge. (The marine superintendent was frequently +kept in ignorance of the vessel's intended destination.) Telegraph and telephone +are handy—"Requisition cancelled" is easily passed over the wires! <i>As you +were</i> is a simple order in official control, but it creates an atmosphere of misdirection +almost as deadly as German gas. Only our tremendous resources, the +sound ability of our mercantile superintendents, the industry of the contractors +and quay staffs, brought order out of chaos and placed the vessels in condition +for service at disposal of the Admiralty.</p> + +<p>Despite all blunders and vacillations our expedition was not unworthy of +the emergency. How much better we could have done had there been a considered +scheme of competent control must ever remain a conjecture. Four +years of war practice have improved on the hasty measures with which we met +the first immediate call. Sea-transport of troops and munitions of war has +become a highly specialized business for naval directorate and mercantile executant +alike. Ripe experience in the thundering years has sweetened our relations. +The naval transport officer has learnt his trade. He is better served. He has +now an adequate executant staff, recruited largely from the Merchants' Service. +With liberal assistance he relies less on telegraph and telephone to advance his +work: our atmosphere is no longer polluted by the miasma of indecision, +and by the chill airs of the barracks.</p> + +<p>Of our Naval War Staff, the transport officer was the first on the field, but +his duties were only concerned with ships requisitioned for semi-naval service. +For long we had no national assistance in our purely commercial seafaring. +Our sea-rulers (if they existed) were unconcerned with the judicious employment +of mercantile tonnage: some of our finest liners were swinging the tides in +harbour, rusting at their cables—serving as prison hulks for interned enemies. +Our service on the sea was as lightly held. We made our voyages as in peace-time. +We had no means of communication with the naval ships at sea other +than the universally understood International Code of Signals. Any measures +we took to keep out of the way of enemy war vessels, then abroad, were +our own. We had no Intelligence Service to advise us in our choice of sea-routes, +and act as distributors of confidential information. We were far too +'jack-easy' in our seafaring: we estimated the enemy's sea-power over-lightly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>In time we learned our lesson. Tentative measures were advanced. Admiralty, +through the Trade Division, took an interest in our employment. Orders +and advices took long to reach us. These were first communicated to the War +Risks Associations, who sent them to our owners. We received them as part +of our sailing orders, rather late to allow of considered efforts on our part to +conform with their tenor. There was no channel of direct communication. +When on point of sailing, we projected our own routes, recorded them in a sealed +memorandum which we left with our owners. If we fell overdue Admiralty +could only learn of our route by application to the holders of the memorandum. +A short trial proved the need for a better system. Shipping Intelligence Officers +were appointed at the principal seaports. At this date some small echo of our +demand for a part in our governance had reached the Admiralty. In selecting +officers for these posts an effort was made to give us men with some understanding +of mercantile practice; a number of those appointed to our new staff were +senior officers of the R.N.R. who were conversant with our way of business. +(If they did, on occasion, project a route for us clean through the Atlantic ice-field +in May, they were open to accept a criticism and reconsider the voyage.) +With them were officers of the Royal Navy who had specialized in navigation, +a branch of our trade that does not differ greatly from naval practice. They +joined with us in discussion of the common link that held few opportunities for +strained association. Certainly we took kindly to our new directors from the +first; we worked in an atmosphere of confidence. The earliest officer appointed +to the West Coast would blush to know the high esteem in which he is held, a +regard that (perhaps by virtue of his tact and courtesy) was in course extended +to his colleagues of a later date.</p> + +<p>The work of the S.I.O. is varied and extensive. His principal duty is to +plan and set out our oversea route, having regard to his accurate information +of enemy activities. All Admiralty instructions as to our sea-conduct pass +through his hands. He issues our confidential papers and is, in general, the +channel of our communication with the Naval Service. He may be likened to +our signal and interlocking expert. On receipt of certain advices he orders the +arm of the semaphore to be thrown up against us. The port is closed to the +outward-bound. His offices are quickly crowded by masters seeking information +for their sailings: with post and telephone barred to us in this connection, we +must make an appearance in person to receive our orders. A tide or two may +come and go while we wait for passage. We have opportunity, in the waiting-room, +to meet and become intimate with our fellow-seafarers. It is good for +the captain of a liner to learn how the captain of a North Wales schooner makes +his bread, the difficulties of getting decent yeast at the salt-ports; how the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +schooner's boy won't learn ("indeed to goodness") the proper way his captain +shows him to mix the dough!</p> + +<p>On telegraphic advice the arm of the semaphore rattles down. The port is +open to traffic again. The waiting-room is emptied and we are off to the sea, +perhaps fortified by the S.I.O.'s confidence that the cause of the stoppage has +been violently removed from the sea-lines.</p> + +<p>Under the pressure of ruthless submarine warfare we were armed for defence. +Gunnery experts were added to our war complement. A division for organization +of our ordnance was formed, the Defensively Armed Merchant Ships Department +of the Admiralty. We do not care for long titles; we know this division +as the "Dam Ships." Most of the officers appointed to this Service are R.N.R. +They are perhaps the most familiar of the war staff detailed to assist us. Their +duties bring them frequently on board our ships, where (on our own ground) +relations grow quickly most intimate and cordial. The many and varied patterns +of guns supplied for our defence made a considerable shore establishment necessary, +not alone for the guns and mountings, but for ammunition of as many +marks as a Geelong wool-bale. In the first stages of our war-harnessing, the +supply of guns was limited to what could be spared from battlefield and naval +armament. The range of patterns varied from pipe-stems to what was at one +time major armament for cruisers; we had odd weapons—<i>soixante-quinze</i> and +Japanese pieces; even captured German field-guns were adapted to our needs +in the efforts of the D.A.M.S. to arm us. Standardization in mounting and +equipment was for long impossible. Our outcry for guns was cleverly met +by the department. We could not wait for weapons to be forged: by working +'double tides' they ensured a twenty-four-hour day of service for the guns +in issue, by a system that our ordnance should not remain idle during our stay +in port. Incoming ships were boarded in the river, their guns and ammunition +dismounted and removed to serve the needs of a vessel bound out on the same +tide. The problem of fitting a 12-pounder on a 4.7 emplacement taxed the +department's ingenuity and resource, but few ships were held in port for failure +of their prompt action.</p> + +<p>With the near approach to standardization in equipment (a state that came +with increased production of merchant-ship arms) the division was able to +reorganize on more settled lines. New types of armament were issued to them +and there was less adaptation for emplacements to be considered. With every +ship fitted, the pressure on their resource was eased, the new ships being constructed +to carry guns as a regular part of their equipment. While their activities +are now less confused by the new methods, there is no reduction in their employment. +Other defensive apparatus has been placed in their hands for issue and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +control, and their principal port establishments have grown from small temporary +offices to large well-manned depots. To the surface guns have been added +howitzers, bomb-throwers, and depth-charges for under-water action: smoke-screen +fittings and chemicals form a part of their stock in trade: they issue +mine-sinking rifles, and even control the supply of our zigzag clocks. The range +of their work is constantly being extended. Their duties include inspection to +ensure that darkening ship regulations may not fail for want of preparation in +port. Makeshift screening at sea is dangerous.</p> + +<p>Their establishments are at the principal seaports, with branch connections +and transport facilities for reaching the smaller harbours. The gun-wharves +may not present as splendid a spectacle as the huge store-sheds of our naval +bases, but they have at least the busy air of being well occupied, a brisk appearance +of having few 'slow-dealing lines' on the shelves. Their permanent +staff of armourers and constructional experts are able to undertake all but very +major repairs to the ordnance that comes under their charge. By express delivery—heavy +motor haulage—they can equip a ship on instant requisition with +all that is scheduled for her armament: down to the waste-box and the gun-layer's +sea-boots, they can put a complete defensive outfit on the road almost +before the clamour of a requesting telephone is stilled.</p> + +<p>Another of our staff is the officer in charge of our 'Otter' installation, an +ingenious contrivance to protect us against the menace of moored mines. For +deadly spheres floating on the surface we have a certain measure of defence in +exercise of a keen look-out, but our eyes avail us not at all in detecting mines +under water moored at the level of our draught. Our 'Otters' may be likened +to blind sea-dolphins, trained to protect our flanks, to run silently aside, fend +the explosive charges from our course, bite the moorings asunder, and throw +the bobbing spheres to the surface.</p> + +<p>The 'Otter' expert is invariably an enthusiast. He claims for his pets every +virtue. They run true, they bite surely: they can speak, indeed, in the complaint +of their guide-wires when they are not sympathetically governed. While it is +true that we curse the awkward 'gadgets' in their multitude of tricks, denounce +the insistence with which they dive for a snug and immovable berth under our +bilge keels—those of us who have come through a hidden minefield share the +expert's affection for the shiny fish-like monsters. We cannot see their operation: +we have no knowledge of our danger till it is past and over, a dark shape +with ugly outpointing horns, turning and spinning in the seawash of our wake.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a> +<img src="images/i-058.jpg" width="600" height="264" alt="INSTRUCTIONAL ANTI-SUBMARINE COURSE FOR MERCHANT OFFICERS AT GLASGOW" title="" /> +<span class="caption">INSTRUCTIONAL ANTI-SUBMARINE COURSE FOR MERCHANT OFFICERS AT GLASGOW</span> +</div> + +<p>Adoption of the convoy system has brought a host to our gangways. Our +war staff was more than doubled in the few weeks that followed the sinister +April of 1917. If, at an earlier date, we had reasonable ground for complaint<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +that our expert knowledge of our business was studiously ignored by the +Admiralty, apparently they did not rate our ability so lightly when this old +form of ship protection was revived. The additions to our staff included a +large proportion of our own officers, withdrawn from posts where their knowledge +of merchant-ship practice was not of great value. In convoy, measures were +called for that our ordinary routine had not contemplated. The shore division +of our new staff aid us in adapting our commercial sea-gear to the more instant +demands of war service. They 'clear our hawse' from turns and twists in +the chain of our landward connections. Repairs and adjustments, crew troubles, +stores—that on a strict ruling may be deemed private matters—became public +and important when considered as vital to the sailing of a convoy. In overseeing +the ships at the starting-line, indexing and listing the varying classes and +powers of the vessels, the convoy section have no light task. To the longshore +division, who compose and arrange the integrals of our convoys, we have +added a sea-staff of commodores, R.N. and R.N.R., who go to sea with us and +control the manœuvres and operations of our ships in station. For this, not +only a knowledge of squadron movements is required: the ruling of a convoy +of merchantmen is complicated as much by the range of character of individual +masters as by the diverse capabilities of the ships.</p> + +<p>It was not until the spring of 1917 that Admiralty instituted a scheme of +instruction in anti-submarine measures for officers of the Merchants' Service. We +were finding the defensive tune difficult to pick up as we marched. The German +submarine had grown to be a more complete and deadly warship. Sinkings had +reached an alarming height: a spirit almost of fatalism was permeating the +sea-actions of some of our Service. Our guns were of little avail against under-water +attack. Notwithstanding the tricks of our zigzag, the torpedoes struck +home on our hulls. If our luck was 'in,' we came through: if we had bad +fortune, well, our luck was 'out'! A considerable school—the bold 'make-a-dash-for-it-and-chance-the-ducks' +section of our fellows—did not wholly +conform to naval instructions. In many cases zigzag was but cursorily maintained; +in darkening ship, measures were makeshift and inadequate.</p> + +<p>Schools for our instruction were set up at various centres, in convenient seaport +districts. At the first, attendance was voluntary, but it was quickly evident +to the Admiralty that certain classes of owners would give few facilities to their +officers to attend, when they might be more profitably employed in keeping +gangway or in supervising cargo stowage. (The fatalistic spirit was not confined +to the seagoers among us.) Attendance at the classes of instruction was made +compulsory; it became part of our qualification for office that we should have +completed the course.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<p>Although our new schooling occupies but five days, it is intensive in its scope +and application. The cold print of our official instructions has its limitations, +and Admiralty circulars are not perhaps famous for lucidity. More can be done +by a skilled interpreter with a blackboard in a few minutes than could be gathered +in half an hour's reading. At first assembly there is perhaps an atmosphere of +boredom. Routine details and a programme of operations are hardly welcome +to masters accustomed to command. In a way, we have condescended to come +among our juniors, to listen with the mates and second mates to what may be +said: we assume, perhaps, a detached air of constraint.</p> + +<p>It is no small tribute to the lecturer that this feeling rarely persists beyond +the opening periods. Only the most perversely immovable can resist the interest +of a practical demonstration. The classes are under charge of an officer, R.N., +who has had deep-sea experience of enemy submarine activities. Often he is +of the 'Q-ship' branch, and can enliven his lectures with incidents that +show us a side of the sea-contest with which not many are familiar. If we are +informed of the deadly advantage of the submarine, we are equally enlightened +as to its limitations. In a few minutes, by virtue of a plot on the blackboard, +the vantage of a proper zigzag is made clear and convincing. Points of view—in +a literal sense—are expounded, and not a few of us recall our placing of look-outs +and register a better plan. Following the officer in charge, a lieutenant +of the Submarine Service dissects his vessel on the blackboard, carefully detailing +the action in states of weather and circumstance. The under-water manœuvres +of an attack are plotted out and explained in a practical way that no handbook +could rival. The personal magnetism of the expert rivets our attention; +the routine of under-seafaring gives us a good inkling of the manner of man we +have to meet and fight at sea; we are given an insight to the mind-working of +our unseen opponent—the brain below the periscope is probed and examined +for our education.</p> + +<p>Nothing could be better illustrative of the wide character of our seafaring +than the range of our muster in the lecture-hall. Every type of our trade +appears in the class that assembles weekly to attend the instructional course. +We have no grades of seniority or precedence. We are sea-republicans when +we come to sit together in class. Hardy coasting masters, commanders of +Royal Mail Packets, collier mates, freighter captains, cross-Channel skippers, +we are at ease together in a common cause; on one bench in the classroom +may be seafarers returned from foreign ports as widely distant as Shanghai and +Valparaiso.</p> + +<p>For instruction in gunnery and the use of special apparatus we come under +tuition of a type of seaman whom we had not met before. If the backbone of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +the Army is the non-commissioned man, the petty officer of the Royal Navy is +no less the marrow of his Service. Unfortunately, we have no one like him in +the Merchants' Service. As Scots is the language of marine engines, the South +of England accent may be that of the guns. That liquid ü! "Metal adapters, +genelmen, lük. Metal adapters is made o' alüminium bronze. They are bored +hoüt t' take a tübe, an' threaded on th' hoütside t' screw into th' base o' th' +cartridge case—like this 'ere. Genelmen, lük. . . ." His intelligent demonstration +of the gear and working of the types of our armament possesses a peculiar +quality, as though he is trying hard to reduce his exposition to our level. (As +a matter of plain fact, he is.)</p> + +<p>The instructional course closes on a note of confidence. We learn that even +'inexorable circumstance' has an opening to skilled evasion. We go afloat +for a day and put into practice some measure of our schooling. At fire-control, +with the guns, we exercise in an atmosphere of din and burnt cardboard, aiming +at a hit with the fifth shot in sequence of our bracket. (An earlier bull's-eye +would be bad application of our lectures.) A smoke-screen is set up for our +benefit, and we turn and twist in the artificially produced fumes and vapours +in a practical demonstration of defence. A sea-going submarine is in attendance +and is open to our inspection. Her officers augment the class instruction by +actual showing. Every point in the maze of an under-water attack is emphasized +by them in an effort to impress us with the virtue of the counter-measures +advised. It must be hard indeed for the submarine enthusiast (and they are +all enthusiasts) to lay bare the 'weaknesses' of his loved machine. We feel +for them almost as if we heard a man, under pressure, admit that his last ship +was unseaworthy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-063.jpg" width="500" height="310" alt="THE LOSS OF A LINER" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE LOSS OF A LINER</span> +</div> + +<h2>III</h2> + +<h3>THE LONGSHORE VIEW</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>EARLY in November 1914, on return from the sea, I was invited to join +His Majesty's Forces.</div> + +<p>". . . An' I can tell you this, mister," said the sergeant . . . "it +ain't everybody as I asks t' join our corps. . . . Adjutant, 'e ses t' me +this mornin', 'Looka here, Bates,' 'e ses, 'don't you go for to bring none +o' them scallywags 'ere! We don't want 'em! We won't 'ave 'em at +any price,' 'e ses!. . . 'Wot we wants is proper men—men with chests,' +'e ses!"</p> + +<p>I felt somewhat commended; I trimmed more upright in carriage; he was +certainly a clever recruiter. I told him I had rather important work to do. +He said, with emphasis, that it must be more than important to keep a <span class="smcap">man</span> +out of the Army—these days! In sound of shrieking newsboys—"<i>Ant—werp +fallen! British falling back!</i>"—I agreed.</p> + +<p>I asked him what he did with the men recruited. He was somewhat surprised +at my question, but told me that, when trained, they were sent across to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +Front—he was hoping to <i>return</i> himself in the next draft. He thought all this +talk was needless, and grew impatient. I mentioned that the men couldn't +very well swim over there. He glared scornfully. "Swim? . . . Swim!. . . +'Ere! Wot th' hell ye gettin' at? You gotta hellova lot t' say about it, +anyway!"</p> + +<p>I explained that my business was that of putting the troops and the guns +and the gear o' war across; that the drafts couldn't get very far on the way +without our assistance. He glanced at my soft felt hat, at my rainproof coat, +my umbrella, my handbag—said, "<i>Huh</i>" and went off in search of a more +promising recruit. His broad back, as he strode off swinging his cane, expressed +an entire disapproval of my appearance and my alleged business.</p> + +<p>Good honest sergeant! His course was a clear and straight one. He would +hold no more truck with one who wouldn't take up a man's job. His "Huh" +and the swing of his arm said plainly to me, "Takin' th' boys across, eh? +A —— fine excuse, . . . a rare —— trick! Where's yer uniform? Why ain't +ye in uniform, eh? You can't do me with that story, mister! I'm an old +Service man, I am. I been out t' India. I been on a troopship. I seen all +them gold-lace blokes a-pokin' their noses about an' growsin' at th' way th' +decks wos kep! <i>Huh!</i> A damn slacker, mister! That's wot I think o' +you!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The sergeant's attitude was not unreasonable. Where was our uniform? +Where was any evidence of our calling by which one could recognize a seaman +on shore? A sea-gait, perhaps! But the deep-sea roll has gone out since bilge-keels +came to steady our vessels! Tattoo marks? These cunning personal +adornments are now reserved to the Royal Artillery and officers of the Indian +Army! Tarry hands? Tar is as scarce on a modern steamer as strawberries +in December! Sea-togs? If there be a preference, we have a fondness for +blue serge, but blue serges have quite a vogue among bankers and merchants +and other men of substance! Away from our ships and the dockside waterfront, +we are not readily recognizable; we join the masses of other workers, +we become members of the general public. As such, we may lay claim to a +common liberty, and look at our seafaring selves from an average point of longshore +view.</p> + +<p>. . . The sea? Oh, we know a lot about it! It is in us. We pride ourselves, +an island race, we have the sea in our blood, we are born to it. Circumstances +may have brought us to counting-house and ledger, but our heart is +with the sea. We use, unwittingly, many nautical terms in our everyday life. +We had been to sea at times, on a business voyage or for health or pleasure. We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +knew the captain and the mates and the engineers. The chief steward was a +friend, the bos'n or quartermaster had shown us the trick of a sheepshank or a +reef-knot or a short splice. Their ways of it! Port and starboard for left and +right, knots for miles, eight bells, the watches, and all that! We returned from +our sea-trip, parted with our good friends, feeling hearty and refreshed. We +hummed, perhaps, a scrap of a sea-song at the ledgers. We regretted that our +sea-day had come so quickly to an end. Anyway, we felt that we had got to +know the sea-people intimately.</p> + +<p>But that was on their ground, on the sea and the ship, where they fitted to +the scheme of things and were as readily understood and appreciated as the little +round port-holes, the narrow bunks, the cunning tip-up washstands, the rails +for hand-grip in a storm. Their atmosphere, their stories, their habits, were +all part of our sea-piece. Taken from their heaving decks and the round of a +blue horizon, they seemed to go out of our reckoning. On shore? Of course +they must at times come on shore, but somehow one doesn't know much about +them there. There are our neighbours. . . . Yes! Gudgeon's eldest boy, he +is at sea—a mate or a purser. He has given over wearing his brass buttons +and a badge cap now: we see him at long intervals, when he comes home to +prepare for examinations. A hefty sort of lad—shouldn't think he would do +much in the way of study; a bit wild perhaps. Then Mrs. Smith's husband. +Isn't he at sea, a captain or a chief engineer, or something? He comes among +us occasionally; travels to town, now and then, in our carriage. A hearty man—uses +rather strong language, though! Has not a great deal to say of things—no +interest in politics, in the market, in the games. Never made very much +of him. Don't see him at the clubs. Seems to spend all his time at home. At +home! Oh yes; wasn't it only the other day his small daughter told ours her +daddy was <i>going</i> home again on Saturday!</p> + +<p>In war, we are learning. There are no more games; contentious politics +are not for these days; the markets and business are difficult and wayward. +We are come to see our dependence on the successful voyages of Mrs. Smith's +husband. His coming among us, from time to time, is proof that our links +with the world overseas are yet unbroken, that there may still be business to +transact when we turn up at the office. Strangely, in the new clarity of a war +vision, we see his broad back in our harvest-fields, as we had never noticed it +before. He is almost one of our staff. He handles our goods, our letters, +our gold, our securities, our daily bread. His business is now so near to us +that——</p> + +<p>But no! It cannot properly be done. We recall that there <i>is</i> one way for +our ready recognition when we come on shore these days. We cannot appropriate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +a longshore point of view, we cannot conceal our seafaring and merge +into the crowd. There <i>is</i> a mark—our tired eyes, as we come off the sea! True, +there are now, sadly, many tired eyes on the beach, but few carry the distant +focus, the peculiar intentness brought about by absence of perspective at +sea. We cannot adopt a public outlook owing to this obliquity in our vision, +we are barred by the persistence of that vexed perspective in our views +on shore.</p> + +<p>Still, the point may be raised that only in our actual seafaring are we recognized. +We are poor citizens, nomads, who have little part with settled grooves +and communal life on shore. The naval seaman is a known figure on the streets. +His trim uniform, the cut of his hair, the swing of a muscular figure, his high +spirits, are all in part with a stereotyped conception. He is the sailor; Mercantile +Jack has lost his tradition in attire and individuality, he has vanished from the +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'hard'">herd</ins> with his high-heeled shoes, coloured silk neckerchief, and sweet-tobacco +hat.</p> + +<p>In the round of shore communications there is exercise for assessing a measure +of the other man's work: a large proportion of success hinges on easy fellowship, +on an understanding and acquaintance not only with the technics of another's +trade, but with his habits and his pursuits. All trades, all businesses, all professions +have relations, near or distant, with the sea, but to them our grades +and descriptions are dubious and uncertain. For this we are to blame. We are +bad advertisers. We are content to leave our fraternization with the beach to +the far distant day when we shall retire from the sea-service, 'swallow the +anchor,' and settle down to longshore life. We cannot join and rejoin the +guilderies on shore in the intervals of our voyaging. We preserve a grudging +silence on our seafaring, perhaps tint what pictures we do present in other lights +than verity. The necessary aloofness of our calling makes for a seclusion in +our affairs: we make few efforts to remedy an estrangement; in a way, we +adopt the disciplinary scourge of the flagellants, we glory in our isolation. If +we share few of the institutions that exist for fellowship ashore, we have +made no bid for admittance: if the tide of intercourse leaves us stranded, +we have put out no steering oar on the drift of the flood. We are somewhat +diffident. Perhaps we are influenced by a certain reputation that is +still attached to us. Are we the prodigals not yet in the mood to turn unto +our fathers?</p> + +<p>Stout old Doctor Johnson enlarged on the sea-life—of his day—with a determination +and no small measure of accuracy. "Sir," he said, "a ship is worse +than a gaol. There is in a gaol better air, better company, better conveniency +of every kind; and a ship has the additional disadvantage of being in danger.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +When men come to like a sea-life they are not fit to live on land. . . . Men go +to the sea before they know the unhappiness of that way of life; and when they +have come to know it, they cannot escape from it, because it is then too late +to choose another profession." At least he admitted the possibility of some of +us coming to <i>like</i> a sea-life, though his postulate conveyed no high opinion of +our intelligence in such a preference.</p> + +<p>We have travelled far since the worthy Doctor's day. Not all his dicta +may stand. There is still, perhaps, greater danger in a ship than in gaol, but +Johnson himself admitted that "the profession of sailors has the dignity of +danger"! For the rest, our air has become so good that invalids are ordered to +sea; our conveniences are notably improved, our ships the last word in strength +and comfort. Our company? Our company fits to the heave of our sea. If +we have middling men for the trough, we have bold gallants for the crest. We +draw a wide range to our service. The sea can offer a good career to a prizeman: +we can still do moderately well with the wayward boy, the parents' 'heart-break,' +the lad with whom nothing can be done on shore. Steam has certainly +given a new gentility to our seafaring, but it cannot wholly smooth out the +uneven sea-road. If we lose an amount of polish, of distinguished association, +of education in our recruitment, we may gain just that essence that fits a man +for our calling. Our company is, at any rate, stout and resolute, and, without +that, we had long since been under German bondage.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a> +<img src="images/i-068.jpg" width="600" height="454" alt="THE MERSEY FROM THE LIVER BUILDINGS, LIVERPOOL" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE MERSEY FROM THE LIVER BUILDINGS, LIVERPOOL</span> +</div> + +<p>The war has brought a new prominence to our sea-trade. The public has +become interested not alone in our sea-ventures, but in our landward doings. +The astonishing fact of our civilian combatance has drawn a recognition +that no years of peace could have uncovered. Not least of the revelations that +the world conflict has imposed is the vital importance of the ships. Our naval +fleets were ever talked of, read of, gloried in, as the spring of our national power, +but not many saw the core of our sea-strength in the stained hulls of the +merchants' ships. They were accepted without enthusiasm as an existing trade +channel; they were there on a round of business and trade, not dissimilar to +other transport services—the railways, road-carriage, the inland canals, the +moving-van, the messengers. They were ready to hand for service; so near +that their vital proportions were not readily apparent. Perhaps the greatest +compliment the public has paid to the Merchants' Service lay in this abstract +view. One saw an appreciation, perhaps unspoken, in the consternation that +greeted the first irregularity in delivery of the oversea mails. Then, indeed, +the importance of the ships was brought sharply home. It was incredible: +it was unheard of. Mercantile practice and correspondence had outgrown all +duplications and weatherly precautions; the service was so sure and uninterrupted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +that no need existed for a second string to the bow. Bills of exchange, +indents, invoices, the mail-letter, had long been confided to sea-carriage on one +bottom. Pages could be written of the tangled skeins, the complex situations, +the confusion and congestion that were all brought about by extra mileage of +an ocean voyage. Fortunes, not alone in hulls and cargo, lie with our wreckage +on the floor of the channels.</p> + +<p>The sea-front suddenly assumed an importance in the general view, as the +drain on our tonnage left vacant shelves in the bakehouse. Commodities that, +so common and plentiful, had been lightly valued, were out of stock—the ships +had not come in! Long queues formed at the shop doors, seeking and questioning—their +topic, the fortunes of the ships! The table was rearranged in keeping +with a depleted larder. Anxious eyes turned first in the morning to the list of +our sea-casualties; the ships, what of the ships? The valiant deeds of our +armies, the tide and toll of battles, could wait a second glance. Not all the +gallantry of our arms could bring victory if our sea-communications were +imperilled or restrained; on the due arrival of the ships centred the pivot of +our operations.</p> + +<p>Joined to the fortune of the ships, interest was drawn to the seamen. A +new concern arose. Who were the mariners who had to face these deadly perils +to keep our sea-lines unbroken? Were they trained to arms? How could +they stand to the menace that had so shocked our naval forces? Daily the +toll rose. Savagery, undreamt of, succeeded mere shipwreck: murder, assassination, +mutilation became commonplace on the sea. Who were the mercantile +seamen; of what stock, what generation?</p> + +<p>To a degree we were embarrassed at such new attention. The mystery of +sea-life, we felt, had unbalanced the public view. Our stock, our generation, +was the same as that of the tailors and the candlestick-makers who were standing +the enemy on his head on the Flanders fields; we differed not greatly from the +haberdasher and the baby-linen man who drove the Prussian Guard, the proudest +soldier in Europe, from the reeking shambles of Contalmaison. Indeed, we had +advantage in our education for a fight. Our training, if not military, was +at least directed to mass operations in contest with power of the elements: +torpedo and mine were but additions to the perils of our regular trade. +If the clerk and the grocer could rise from ordered peaceful ways and set the +world ringing with his gallantry and heroism, we were poltroons indeed to +flinch and falter at the familiar conduct of our seafaring. We felt that our +share in warfare was as nothing to the blaze of fury on the battle-fronts, our +sea-life was comparative comfort in contrast to the grisly horrors of the +trenches.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>With universal service, opportunity for acquaintance with our life and our +work was extended beyond the numbers of chance passengers. The exodus +oversea of the nation's manhood brought the landsman and the seaman together +as no casual meeting on the streets could have done. Millions of our country-men, +who had never dreamed of outlook on blue water bounded by line of an +unbroken horizon, have found themselves brought into close contact with us, +living our life, assisting in many of our duties, facing the same dangers. In +such a firm fellowship and communion of interest there cannot but be a bond +between us that shall survive the passage of high-water mark.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-072.jpg" width="500" height="347" alt="THE MASTER OF THE GULL LIGHTSHIP WRITING THE LOG" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE MASTER OF THE GULL LIGHTSHIP WRITING THE LOG</span> +</div> +<h2>IV</h2> + +<h3>CONNECTION WITH THE STATE</h3> + + +<h3><br />TRINITY HOUSE, OUR ALMA MATER</h3> + +<div class='cap'>OF all trades, seafaring ever required a special governance, a unique +Code of Laws, suited to the seaman's isolation from tribunal and land +court, to the circumstance of his constant voyaging. On sea, the +severance from ordered government, from reward as from penalty, was irremediable +and complete. No common law or enactment could be enforced on +the wandering sea-tribesmen who owned no settled domicile, who responded only +to the weight of a stronger arm than their own, who had an impenetrable cloak +to their doings in the mystery of distant seas. The spirit and high heart that +had called them to the dangers and vicissitudes of a sea-life would not brook +tamely the dominance and injunction of a power whose authority was, at sea, +invisible—and even under the land, could carry but little distance beyond high-water<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +mark. To the bold self-enterprise of the early sea-venturers, the unconfined +ocean offered a free field for a standard of strength, for a law of might alone. +Kings and Princes might rule the boundaries of the land, but the sea was for +those who could maintain a holding on the troubled waters. Were the 'Rectores' +not Kings on their own heaving decks, their province the round of the horizon, +their subjects the vulgar 'shippe-men,' their slaves the unfortunate weaker seafarers, +whom chance or the fickle winds had brought within reach of their sea-arms? +The sea-rovers were difficult to bridle or restrain. <i>Spurlos versenkt</i> +might well have been their motto—as that of later pirates. No trace! The sea +would tell no tales. They were alone on the breadth of the ocean, no ordered +protection was within hail, the land lay distant under rim of the sea-line. Blue +water would wash over the face of robbery and crime: the hazards of the sea +could well account for a missing ship!</div> + +<p>Reverse the setting and the same uncharity could similarly be masked. In +turn, the humanity the seamen contemned was denied to them. Driven on +shore, wrecked or foundered on coast or shoal, the laws they scorned were powerless +to shield or salve the wreckage of their vessels, to save their weary sea-scarred +bodies. 'No trace' was equally a motto for the dwellers on the coast: blue +water would wash as freely over their bloody evidence, the miserable castaways +could be as readily returned to the pitiless sea: an equal hazard of the deep could +as surely account for missing men!</p> + +<p>Only special measures could control a situation of such a desperate nature, +no ordinary governance could effect a settlement; no one but a powerful and +kingly seafarer could frame an adjustment and post wardens to enforce a law +for the sea. When Richard Cœur de Lion established our first Maritime Code, +he had his own rude sea-experience to guide him. On perilous voyaging to the +Holy Land, he must have given more than passing thought to the trials and +dangers of his rough mariners. Sharing their sea-life and its hardships, he noted +the ship-measures and rude sea-justice with a discerning and humane appreciation. +In all the records of our law-making there are few such intimate revelations +of a minute understanding as his Rôles d'Oléron. The practice of to-day +reflects no small measure of his wisdom; in their basic principles, his charges +still tincture the complex fabric of our modern Sea Codes. Bottomry—the +pledging of ship and tackle to procure funds for provision or repair; +salvage—a just and reasonable apportionment; jettison—the sharing of +another's loss for a common good; damage to ship or cargo—the account +of liability: many of his ordinances stand unaltered in substance, if varied +and amplified in detail.</p> + +<p>The spirit of these mediæval Shipping Acts was devoted as well to restrain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +the lawless doings of the seamen as to check the inhuman plunderings of the +coast dwellers. The rights and duties of master and man were clearly defined: +in the schedule of penalties, the master's forfeit was enhanced, as his was assumed +to be the better intelligence. For barratry and major sea-crimes, the penalty +was death and dismemberment. All pilots who wrecked their charges for benefit +of the lords of the sea-coast were to be hung on a gibbet, and so exhibited to +all men, near the spot where the vessels they had misdirected were come on shore. +The lord of the foreshore who connived at their acts was to suffer a dire fate. +He was to be burned on a stake at his own hearthstone, the walls of his mansion +to be razed, and the standing turned to a market-place for barter of swine! +Drastic punishment! Doubtless kingly Richard drew abhorrence for the +wrecker from his own bitter experience on the inhospitable rocky coast of Istria!</p> + +<p>Little detail has come down to us of the means adopted to enforce these just +acts. Of the difficulties of their enforcement we may judge a little from the +character of the seamen as presented by contemporary chronicles. . . .</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"<i>Full many a draught of wyn had he drawe</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>From Burdeux-ward, whil that the chapman sleep.</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>Of nyce conscience took he no keep.</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>If that he foughte, and hadde the heigher hand,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>By water he sent hem hoom to every land.</i>"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>. . . Thus Chaucer; but Chaucer was a Collector of Customs, and would possibly +assess the stolen draught of Bordeaux as a greater crime than throwing prisoners +overboard! From evidence of the date, Richard's shipping laws seem to have +been but lightly regarded by the lords of the foreshore. In the reign of King +John, wrecking had become a practice so common that prescriptive rights to +the litter of the beaches was included in manorial charters, despite the Rôle +that . . . "the pieces of the ship still to belong to the original owners, notwithstanding +any custom to the contrary . . . and any participators of the said +wrecks, whether they be bishops, prelates, or clerks, shall be deposed and deprived +of their benefices, and if lay people they are to incur the penalties previously +recited."</div> + +<p>It was surely by more than mere chance the churchmen were thus specially +indicted! Perhaps it was by a temporal as well as a spiritual measure that Stephen +Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury, strove to remove a reproach to the Church. +He founded a Guild of sea-samaritans, a Corporation</p> + +<div class="blockquot">"of godly disposed men, who, for the actual suppression of evil disposed +persons bringing ships to destruction by the shewing forth of false beacons,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +do bind themselves together in the Love of our Lord Christ, in the name +of the Masters and Fellows of Trinity Guild to succour from the dangers +of the sea all who are beset upon the coasts of England, to feed them when +ahungered and athirst, to bind up their wounds, and to build and light +proper beacons for the guidance of mariners."</div> + +<div class='unindent'>An earnest and compassionate Charter: a merciful and honourable Commission.</div> + +<p>In this wise was formed our Alma Mater, the ancient guild of shipmen and +mariners of England. Subsequent charters advanced their titles as they enlarged +their duties and charges. In 1514, Henry VIII confirmed their foundation +under style of . . . "Master, Wardens, and Accistants of the Guild or +Fraternity of the Most Glorious and Undivided Trinity, and of St. Clement, +in the Parish of Deptford Strond, in the County of Kent." Some years later, +the 'accistants' were subdivided as Elder and Younger Brethren, the Foundation +being familiarly referred to as the Corporation of Trinity House.</p> + +<p>In early days, their efforts were directed in charity to stricken seafarers, +in humane dispensation, in erection and maintenance of sea-marks, in training +and provision of competent sea and coast pilots—a line of endeavour directed +by the Godly Primate, in his Commission. Beacons were built on dangerous +points of the coast, keepers appointed to serve them, watchers detailed to observe +the vessels as they passed and restrain the activities of the wrecker. The +magnitude of the task, the difficulties of their office, the powerful counter-influences +arrayed against their beneficent rôle, may be judged by an incident +that occurred as late as little over a hundred and twenty years ago. . . . "When +Ramsgate Harbour, as a port of refuge from storm and stress, was intended, and +the business was before Parliament, a petition from the Lord of the Manor +tended to accelerate matters. He represented to the House, while the Bill +was depending, that, <i>as the wrecks on the coast belonged to him and formed a +considerable part of his property, he prayed that the Bill would not pass!</i> "</p> + +<p>Established in charity for the guardianship of the coasts, the Brethren of +Trinity passed to a supervision of the ships and the seamen. Although a closely +guarded Corporation, qualifications for entry were simply those of sea-knowledge. +The business of shipping, if more hazardous and difficult on the sea, +was less complicated in its landward connections than is its modern conduct. +The merchants were well content to be guided in their affairs by their sea-partners, +the men who actually commanded and sailed the ships. The voyages, +ship construction, refitment and victualling were matters that could only +be advised by the skilled seamen. Jealous for professional advancement, +the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Brethern'">Brethren</ins> of Trinity held their ranks open only to skilled master seamen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +and to kindred sea-tradesmen—the shipwrights and rope-makers. While attracting +leaders and statesmen to the higher and more ornamental offices, +control was largely vested in the Elder and Younger Brethren—technical advisers, +competent to understand sea-matters.</p> + +<p>In no small measure, the rise and supremacy of our shipping is due to their +wise direction and control. They were the sole machinery of the State for control +of the ships and the seaman. Survey and inspection of sea-stores, planning +and supervision of ship construction, registry and measurement of vessels, had +their beginning in the orderly efforts of the Brethren. Examination of the competence +of masters was part of their duties—as was their arbitration in crew +disputes. They licensed and supplied seafarers of all classes to the 'King's +Ships,' tested their ordnance and examined the ammunition. Their reading of +the ancient charter of their foundation was wide and liberal in its scope—"<i>to +build, and light proper beacons for the guidance of mariners</i>" was their +understanding. In construction and equipment and maintenance of sea-marks, +in licence and efficient service of their coastal pilots, they carried out to the letter +the text of their covenant; in spirit, they understood a guidance that was +less material if equally important. Their beacons were not alone standing +structures of stone and lime, but world-marks in precept and ordinance, in study +and research. They held bright cressets aloft to illuminate the difficult seaways +in the paths of navigation and science of the seafarer. They placed +facilities for the study of seamanship before the mariners and sought to advance +the science of navigation in line with the efforts of our sea-competitors. The +charts and maps of the day—most of them being rude Dutch draft sheets—were +improved and corrected, and new surveys of the coastal waters were undertaken at +charge and patronage of the Brethren. Captain Greenville Collins, Hydrographer +to Charles II, bears witness to their high ideals in presenting to the Corporation +the fruits of his seven years' labour in survey and charting of the coast. The +preface to his work is made noteworthy by his reference to the practice of the +day—the haphazard alterations on the charts that brought many a fine ship to +grief.</p> + +<div class="blockquot">". . . I then, as in Duty bound (being a Younger Brother) did acquaint +you with it, and most humbly laid the Proposals before you; whereupon +you were pleased not only to approve of them, but did most bountifully +advance towards the charge of the work. . . . I could heartily wish that +it might be so ordered by your Corporation, that all Masters of Ships, both +using Foreign and Home Voyages, might be encouraged to bring you in their +Journals, and a Person appointed to inspect them; which would be a great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +Improvement of Navigation, by imparting their Observations and Discoveries +of the true Form and Prospect of the Sea Coast . . . and other +dangerous Places. . . . And that those Persons who make and sell Sea +Charts and Maps, were not allowed to alter them upon the single Report +of Mariners, but with your approbation; by which means our Sea Charts +would be more correct and the common Scandal of their Badness removed."</div> + +<p>In all her enactments and activities, our Alma Mater ever preserved a worthy +pride in her sons. Enthusiasm for a gallant profession, patronage for advancement +in sea-skill and learning, a keen and studied interest in whatever tended +to elevate and ennoble the calling of the sea, were her inspiring sentiment. Even +in wise reproof and cautionary advice, her words were tempered by a brave note +of pride—as though, under so many difficulties and serious dangers, she gloried +in our work being worthily undertaken. In charge to the seaman, Captain +Collins continues his kindly preface:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"It sometimes happens, and that too frequently, that when Ships which +have made long and dangerous Voyages, and are come Home richly laden, +have been shipwrecked on their native Coast, whereby both Merchants, +Owners, and Mariners have been impoverished. All our neighbours will +acknowledge, that no Nation abounds more with skilful and experienced +Seamen than our own; none meeting a Danger with more Courage and +Bravery . . . so a Master of a ship has a very great Charge, and ought +to be a sober Man, as well as a skilful Mariner: All Helps of Art, Care, +and Circumspection are to be used by him, that the Lives of Mariners (the +most useful of their Majesties' Subjects at this juncture) and the Fortunes +of honest Merchants under his Care may be preserved."</p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a> +<img src="images/i-078.jpg" width="600" height="472" alt="AT GRAVESEND: PILOTS AWAITING AN INWARD-BOUND CONVOY" title="" /> +<span class="caption">AT GRAVESEND: PILOTS AWAITING AN INWARD-BOUND CONVOY</span> +</div> + +<p>For over three hundred years, our Alma Mater flourished as the spring of +our seafaring—a noble and venerable Corporation, concerned solely and alone +with the sea and the ships and the seamen. The Brethren saw only one aim +for their endeavours—the supremacy of the sea-trade, the business by which +the nation stood or fell. Nor was theirs an inactive part in all the long sea-wars +and crises that reacted on our commerce. Before a navy existed, the stout +old master-seamen of Deptford Strond were charged with the sea-defences of +the capital. The new naval forces came under their control at a later date, +and we have the record of an efficiency in administration that showed prevision +and thought well in advance of that of their landward contemporaries. Piracy, +privateering, the restraints of rulers and princes, were dealt with in their day. +At critical turns in the courses of our naval conduct, it was to the steersmen of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +Trinity that the Ministers of the State relied for prompt and seamanlike action. +The 'sea to the seamen' was the rule. Adapting their resources to the needs +of the day, the Brethren were held fast by no conventional restraint. They +assisted peaceful developments in trade in the quieter years, but could as readily +mobilize for war service under threat of invasion, or turn their skilled activities +to removal of the sea-marks to prevent the sailing of a mutinous fleet. In the +long and stormy history of Trinity House there were many precedents to guide +the action of the Brethren on the outbreak of war. As guardians of the sea-channels +and the approaches to our coasts, they manned these misty sea-trenches +on the outbreak of war in 1914. Weaponless, by exercise of a skill in pilotage and +a resolution worthy of great traditions, the Trinity men have held that menaced +line intact. That little has been said about their great work is perhaps a tradition +of their service.</p> + +<p>We are parted now. The Merchants' Service is no longer a studied and valued +interest of the ancient corporation. In an assured position as arbiters between +the State and the shipping industry, the Trinity Brethren could combine a just +regard for the merchants' interest with a generous and understanding appreciation +of the seamen's trials and difficulties. If for no other reason than the record +of past endeavours, they should still control the personnel of the Merchants' +Service, in regulating the scheme of our education, the scope of our qualification +for office, the grades of our service, the essence of our sea-conduct. But in the +fickle doldrums of the period when steam superseded sail as our motive power, +we drifted apart. Shipping interests have become complicated with land +ventures, as widely different from them as the marine engine is from our former +sail plan. In 1850 the Merchants' Service was placed under control of the Board +of Trade; we were handed over to a Board that is no Board—a department of +the State with little, if any, sea-sentiment, and that is sternly resolved to repress +all our efforts to regain a voice in the control of our own affairs.</p> + + +<h3><br />THE BOARD OF TRADE</h3> + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">If</span> we may claim the ancient Corporation of Trinity House as the Alma Mater +of the Merchants' Service, we may liken our comparatively new directorate, the +Board of Trade, to our Alma step-Mater—an austere, bureaucratic dame, hard-working +and earnest, perhaps, but lacking the kindly spirit of a sea-tradition. +She is utterly out of touch and sympathy with a sea-sense—her arms, overstrained +perhaps by the tremendous burden of charge upon charge that comes to her for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +settlement, are never open to the seamen. Sullenly, we resent her dictation +as that of a usurper—a lay impropriator of our professional heritage. Under +her coldly formal direction, we may attend our affairs in diligence and prudence, +but for us there is no motherly licence; she has no pride in our doings (if one +counts not the vicious insistence of her statistics)—we are only the stepchildren +of her adoption, odd men of the huge and hybrid family over whom she has been +set to cast a suspicious, if guardian, eye. While Trinity House was concerned +alone with the conduct of shipping and sea-affairs, our new controllers of the Board +of Trade have interests in charge as widely apart as the feeding of draught-horses +and the examination of a bankrupt cheesemonger. We are but a Department. +The sea-service of the nation, the key industry of our island commerce, is governed +by a subdivision in a Ministry that has long outgrown the limits of a central +and answerable control. Instead of settlement by a contained and competent +Ministry of Marine, our highly technical sea-conduct is ruled for us in queue +with longshore affairs, sandwiched, perhaps, between horse-racing and the period +of the dinner table.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>The President of the Board of Trade has intimated to the Stewards of the +National Hunt Committee that . . . it is not possible to sanction a list of +fixtures for the season.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Peto asked the President of the Board of Trade whether his attention +has been called to the decision of Mr. Justice Rowlatt . . . in +which judgment was given for the plaintiff company, owners of the steamship +X——, sunk in collision, due to steaming without lights."</p> + +<p>"<i>The President of the Board of Trade announces modifications of the Lighting +Order during the present week, one effect being that the prohibition of the serving +of meals in hotels after 9.30 p.m. is temporarily suspended.</i>"</p></div> + +<p>Perhaps we were rather spoilt by the pride that was in us when our seafaring +was ruled by the appreciative Brethren of Trinity, and it may be as a repressive +measure of discipline the Board of Trade extends no particular favour to our +sea-trade, and has indeed gone further in being at pains to belittle our sea-deeds, +and disparage a recognition of our status. Our controllers are anxious that +their ruling of award and reward should suffer no comparison. For gallantry +at sea, the grades of their recognition may vary from the Silver Medal (delivered, +perhaps, as in a recent case, with the morning's milk) to a sextant or a pair of +binoculars.</p> + +<p>In 1905 a very gallant rescue was effected by the men of the Liverpool steamer +<i>Augustine</i>. The crew of a Greek vessel were taken from their foundering ship<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +in mid-Atlantic under circumstances of great peril. Not only was boat service +performed in tempestuous weather, but the officers of <i>Augustine</i> themselves +jumped overboard to try to save the Greek seamen, who were too far exhausted +to hold on to the life-lines and buoys thrown to them. The King of Greece, in +recognition of the gallantry and humanity displayed, signed a decree conferring +on the British master and his officers the Gold Decoration of the Redeemer.</p> + +<p>A general view would be that this was an award quite appropriate to the +services rendered, an expression by the Greek Government that they wished +to place the names of the gallant savers of their seamen on the Roll of their +Honour. Our Board of Trade objected. Through the Foreign Office, they +appear to have informed the Greek Government that such distinguished awards +were unusual and might prove a source of dissatisfaction in future cases. Possibly +they viewed the appearance of a ribbon on the breast of a merchant seaman +as an encroachment on the rights of their own permanent officials. The awards +were not made; silver medals were substituted, which Captain Forbes and his +officers, learning of the Board's action, did not accept. On a later occasion +the same unsympathetic influence was exercised; the Russian Order of St. +Stanislaus was withdrawn and replaced by a gold watch and chain!</p> + +<p>In supervision of our qualifications as masters and mates, the Board of Trade +has followed the lines of least resistance. It is true that they have established +certain standards in navigation and seamanship that we must attain in order +to hold certificates, but the training to these standards has never been an interest +of their Department. While our shipmate, the marine engineer, has opportunity +in his apprenticeship on shore to complete his education, we are debarred +from the same facility. Apprenticed to the sea at from fourteen to sixteen +years of age, our youth bid good-bye to their school books and enter on a life +of freedom from scholarly restraint—a 'kindergarten' in which their toys +are hand-implements of the sea. There is no need to worry; there is no study +required for four years; a week or two at the crammer's will suffice to satisfy +the Board of Trade when apprenticeship days were over. And the fault does +not lie with the 'crammer.' Scholarly and able and competent, as most of +them are, to impart a better and more thorough instruction, the system of +leaving all to the voyage's end offers to them no alternative but to present the +candidate for examination as rapidly as possible. Sea-apprentices of late years +did not often share in a scheme of instruction afloat. Rarely were they carried +as complements to a full crew; for the most part they were workmen in a +scant manning—'greenhorns'—drudges to the whim of any grown man. In +a rough measure, the standard of such seamanship as they <i>gathered</i> was good—else +we had been in ill case to-day—but it was without method or apprehension—a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +smattering—the only saving grace of which lay in the ready resource that +only seafaring engenders. The exactions of a busy working sea-life left little +leisure for self-advancement in study; the short, and ever shortening, intervals +of a stay in port provided small opportunity for exercise of a helping +hand from the shore. By deceptive short cuts that gave small enlightenment, +by rules—largely mnemonic—we passed our tests and obtained our certificates. +On shore, the landward youth fared better. The spirit of the times provided +a free and growing opportunity for the study of technics and advance of scientific +craftsmanship. The Navy took full advantage of this tide. The Board of Admiralty +saw the futility of the old system of sea-training, having regard to the +complete alteration of the methods in seamanship and navigation. Naval +education could no longer be compensated by a schedule of bugle-calls and the +exactitude of a hammock-lashing. Concurrent with a sound sea-training, +general education was insisted upon. Zealously Admiralty guided their youth on +a path that led to a culture and appreciation of values, wide in scope, to serve +their profession. If it was essential, in the national interest, that the general +education and sea-training of naval officers should be so closely supervised, +it was surely little less important that that of the merchants' officers should receive +some measure of attention. But for the private efforts of some few shipowners, +nothing on the lines of a considered scheme was done. No assistance or advice +or grant in aid was made by the Board of Trade. While drawing to their coffers +huge sums, accumulations of fines and forfeitures, deserters' wages, fees, the unclaimed +earnings of deceased seamen, they could afford no assistance to guide the +youthful seaman through a course of right instruction to a better sea-knowledge; +they made no advances to place our education on a less haphazard basis. It +may be cited as an evidence of <i>their</i> indifference that a large proportion of unsuccessful +candidates for the junior certificates fail in a test of <i>dictation</i>.</p> + +<p>With our entry to the war at sea in 1914, the same indifference was manifest. +There was no mobilization or registration of merchant seamen to aid a scheme +of manning and to control the chaos that was very soon evident. Despite their +intimate knowledge of the gap in our ranks made by the calling-up of the Naval +Reserve—accentuated by the enlistment of merchant seamen in the Navy—the +Board of Trade could see no menace to the sea-transport service in the +military recruitment of our men. It was apparently no concern of theirs that +we sailed on our difficult voyages short-handed, or with weak crews of inefficient +landsmen, while so many of our skilled seamen and numbers of our sea-officers +were marking time in the ranks of the infantry. Under pressure of events, it was +not until November 1915 they took a somewhat hesitating step. This was their +proclamation; it may be contrasted with Captain Greenville Collins's preface.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><br />"MAINTENANCE OF BRITISH SHIPPING</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"At the present time the efficient maintenance of our Mercantile Marine +is of vital national interest, and captains, officers, engineers, and their +crews will be doing as good service for their country by continuing to man +British ships as by joining the army.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +"<span class="smcap">The President of the Board of Trade.</span>"<br /> +</div></div> + + +<div class='unindent'>"<span class="smcap">At</span> the present time"! Possibly our Board was writing in anticipation +of the completion of the Channel tunnel, or of a date when our men-at-arms +and their colossal equipment, the food and furnishings of the nation, the material +aid to our Allies, could be transported by air. "As good service"! An +equality! An option! Was it a matter of simple balance that a seaman on +military service was using his hardily acquired sea-experience as wisely as in +the conduct of his own skilled trade, as efficiently as in maintaining the lines of +our oversea communications? Events at this date were proving that we had +no need to go ashore for fighting service.</div> + +<p>In the first violence of unrestricted submarine warfare, the Board advanced +little, if any, assistance to the victims of German savagery. Their machinery +existed only to repatriate torpedoed crews under warrant as "distressed British +seamen"; they were content to leave destitution, hunger—the rags and tatters +of a body covering—to be relieved and refitted by the charitable efforts of philanthropic +Seamen's Societies. To them—to the kindly souls who met us at the +tide-mark—we give all honour and gratitude, but it was surely a shirking of +responsibility on part of our Board that placed the burden of our maintenance +on the committee of a Seaman's Bethel. As a tentative measure, our controllers +advanced a scheme of insurance of effects—a business proposition, of which +many took advantage. Later, this was altered to a gratuitous compensation. +Cases occurred in which distressed seamen had a claim under both schemes: +their foresight was not accounted to them. Although proof might be forthcoming +of the loss of an outfit that the small compensation could not cover, +they could claim only on one or the other, the insurance or the gratuitous +compensation. It was evident that the Board derived some measure of assistance +from the examiners in bankruptcy on their staff.</p> + +<p>In certain seaports—notably at Southampton—Sailors' Homes (built and +endowed for the comfort and accommodation of the merchant seamen) were +permitted, without protest, to be requisitioned by Admiralty for the sole use<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +of their naval ratings. The merchantmen, on service of equal importance +and equal danger, were turned out to the streets, and our Board took no action, +registered no complaint.</p> + +<p>To await popular clamour was evidently a guiding principle with our controllers. +Their view was probably that we were private employees in trading +ventures, that their concern was only to see the sea-law carried out. Sea-law, +however, was not in question in the case of the master and officers of <i>Augustine</i>, +and, if they could assume the right to interfere in that personal matter, they +accepted a position as curators of the personnel of the Merchants' Service. They +cannot complain if our understanding of their duties does not agree with theirs. +Deliberately, they have asserted that our sea-conduct is within their province.</p> + +<p>An extraordinary matter is the character and calibre of the Board's marine +officials. Unquestionably able and personally sympathetic as they are, it +remains the more incomprehensible that our governance is so stupidly controlled. +Perhaps their submissions fail of acceptance in the councils of a higher control—that +has also to decide on horse-racing and bankruptcy. Under a less heavily +encumbered Ministry, our affairs should receive the consideration that is their +due. It required but little experience of the new sea-warfare to establish our +claim to be considered a national service with a mission and employment no +less vital and combatant than that of the enlisted arms. Master and man, we +have earned the right to no small voice in the control of our own affairs. Our +sea-interests are large enough to require a separate Department of the State, a +Ministry of Marine, in which we should have a part.</p> + +<p>The Board of Trade has failed us, they have proved unworthy of our confidence. +Quite lately they began to mobilize and register the mercantile seamen +of the country. <i>Three years and nine months after the outbreak of war, they sounded +the 'assembly' of the Merchants' Service.</i> Let that be their epitaph!</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-086.jpg" width="500" height="417" alt="TRANSPORTS LEAVING SOUTHAMPTON ON THE NIGHT PASSAGE TO FRANCE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">TRANSPORTS LEAVING SOUTHAMPTON ON THE NIGHT PASSAGE TO FRANCE</span> +</div> + +<h2>V</h2> + +<h3>MANNING</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>SEA-LABOUR cannot be likened to employment on shore. Once signed and +boarded and to sea, there can be no dismissal and replacement of the men +such as may be seen any morning at the street gates of a workshop or +shipyard. Good or bad, we are bound as shipmates for a voyage. Ordinary +laws and regulations cannot reach us in our sailing; we are given the Merchant +Shipping Act for our guidance, the longest and wordiest Act on the Statute +Book, a measure that presupposes a discipline that no longer exists. Our ships, +in size and power—our complement, in number and character—have altered +greatly beyond the views of the Act. That statute, that in its day may have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +sufficed to set a standard of law and order to the moderate crews of our sailing +ships, is utterly inadequate to control effectively the large ship's company of +our modern steam vessels. The men, too, are changed—the sailormen, perhaps, +not greatly—but, with the thundering evolution of steam-power, we have drawn +grown men to the fires, ready-made men, uninfluenced by traditions of sea-service. +We had no hand in their making—in the early years when discipline may be +inculcated and character be formed. The drudgery and uninterest of their heavy +work makes for a certain reaction that frequently finds its expression in violence +and criminal disorder. The short voyage system and the grossly inadequate +provisions of the Act afford no opportunity to guide the reaction in a less vicious +direction. We hailed as a benefactor to the sea the inventor of single topsails; +the statistics of our sea-fatalities give a definite date to their introduction. Daily +we pray for an inventor to emancipate our stokehold gangs.</div> + +<p>It would be idle to pretend that, as master-seamen, we were not disquieted +by our manning problem, following upon the outbreak of war. While mobilization +of the Army Reserve drew men from all industries in a proportion that +did not affect seriously any one employment, the calling-up of the Royal Naval +Reserve strained our resources in men to the utmost. Seamen, naval or mercantile, +are of one great trade: the balance of our activities being thrown +suddenly and violently to one side of our engagement could not fail in disorganizing +the other. Added to the outgoing of the retained Reserve seamen, recruitment +of a new Reserve to man Auxiliaries and Special Service vessels was almost +instantly begun. There were many applicants; the choice naturally fell +upon our best men remaining. In and after August 1914, we were short-handed +in the Merchants' Service. We were, indeed more than short-handed, +for the loss of our steadiest men had effect in removing a certain check +upon indiscipline. We missed just that influence upon which, for want of +adequate authoritative powers, we counted to preserve some measure of +subordinance in our ranks.</p> + +<p>Large vessels were most seriously affected. The service of troop transport +suffered and was delayed. On occasion, there was the amazing instance of +some 1500 trained and disciplined troops standing by to await the sobering-up +and return to duty of a body of seamen and firemen. Drunkenness is not yet +accounted a crime, but the holding up of vital reinforcements was no petty fault. +Under the Act we were empowered to inflict a fine of exactly five shillings on +each offender. The offence that held 1500 soldiers in check was met by a mulct +of two half-crowns.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a> +<img src="images/i-088.jpg" width="600" height="405" alt="LIVERPOOL: MERCHANTMEN SIGNING ON FOR OVERSEA VOYAGES" title="" /> +<span class="caption">LIVERPOOL: MERCHANTMEN SIGNING ON FOR OVERSEA VOYAGES</span> +</div> + +<p>The Army and the Naval Authorities were startled, as at a situation they had +not contemplated. Masters and officers, if not actually challenged, were deemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +to be responsible for such a state of insubordination among their crews. While +such an assumption was, to a degree, unjust, it is true that we were not wholly +blameless. For the sake of a quiet commercial life, we had accepted the difficulties +of our manning without protest. In this we erred. Had we been an +independent and economically fearless body, we would, in the days before the +war, have refused to proceed to sea with any less than the summary powers +held by a magistrate on shore to enforce law and order in his district. It is +true that no magisterial powers will prevent drunkenness, but that condition +on the ships was due directly to the general indiscipline that we were unable +wholly to control.</p> + +<p>The state of affairs called for more than a merely temporary measure, but our +controllers advanced no settlement—only they devised an expedient. The +situation was met, not by a firm action that would affect all merchant ships and +seamen alike, but by a Defence of the Realm regulation that operated only when +ships were chartered directly by Government. The opportunity to make the +merchantmen's forecastle a place for decent men to earn a living was passed +by. While admitting, by their concern, that the matter called for redress, +Government could only take action in cases where their bureaucratic interests +were threatened. Vessels on purely commercial voyages, including carriage +of the mails and millions in the nation's securities, were left without the regulation: +we had to carry on as best we could. It entailed hardship on the better-disposed +members of our ships' companies: in whatever fashion, the work had +to be carried on: we taxed our steady men to the limit. The effect upon them +may be judged when they realized that the delinquency of their shipmates, +whose duty they had undertaken, was assessed at the price of a pound of 'Fair +Maid' tobacco.</p> + +<p>While the quality of our men was thus affected, we suffered in their diminished +numbers. Without a protest from our governing body, the Board of Trade, +the army took a toll of our seamen. Thus early, it was not realized that we +merchantmen would have to fight for our ships and our lives at sea. The drums +of field-war set up a note that was heard outside of six fathoms of blue water; +large numbers of our seamen and many ships' officers joined up for military service. +There was a certain measure of compensation afforded by the industrial +situation ashore. As the magnitude of the world conflict was realized, nervous +employers of labour reduced their staffs. All workmen suffered, the building +trades being perhaps most affected. As needs must, we were open to recruit +able-bodied men: we had to make seamen, and that quickly. Masons, brick-layers, +tilers, slaters—they reached tide-mark in their quest for employment. +We were glad enough to sign them on to make up our complements. At the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +first they were not of great value. Unused to the sea and ship-life, they had to +be nursed through stormy weather: a source of anxiety to the watch-keeper +when the seas were up. In time they became moderately efficient. As good +tradesmen, they had a self-respect that could be encouraged: they were not +difficult to control.</p> + +<p>Of these, perhaps 50 per cent. made a second voyage, but not more than +10 per cent. remained at sea permanently. Their reasons for returning to the +beach were always the same. Not the hard work or the seas appalled them, +but the class of men with whom they had to live and work. Some of our recruits +had other objects in view than a desire for a sea-life. At ports abroad, notably +in the United States, they deserted. Strict as the Federal machinery is for +regulating immigration into the United States, there appeared to be no keen +desire on the part of the authorities to embarrass the improper entry of our men. +It was not difficult to assign a cause for their laxity. Technically, the men were +seamen. Our Uncle Sam was stirring towards true sea-power—the acquisition +of large mercantile fleets. The native American could see no prosperous commercial +career in the forecastle: only from abroad might labour be obtained +for operation of the ships. We had done the same in our time. Desertions +were not confined to the landsmen of our crews. A situation arose quickly, +in which it became profitable for our men to desert abroad and re-sign on another +ship at an enhanced pay. As though to facilitate their breach of agreement, it +was not long before the United States Seamen's Act came into force. By +some international process that we seamen are not yet able to understand, +this Act became operative on every vessel entering an American port. It establishes, +for all seamen, the 'right to quit.' Strangely, our men did not all +abandon ship. Some stirring of the patriotism that, later, became pronounced +among them must have had effect in restraining wholesale disembarkation. +Short-handed by perhaps an eighth of a full crew, we made our return voyages. +By shift and expedient, we kept a modest head of steam. The loss was almost +wholly at the fires. Stewards were set to deck duties and the look-out, the +released sailormen went below to the stokehold—on occasion, passengers were +recruited on board to bear a hand. Perhaps the public grumbled at receiving +their letters an hour or two behind time.</p> + +<p>It is not easy to advance reasons for the new and better spirit that came to us +coincident with the appearance of German savagery at sea. Restrictions of +the supply of drink had effect in enabling us to commence a voyage under good +conditions, without brawling and bloodshed in the forecastle. An atmosphere +of determination was, perhaps, introduced by the tales of undying heroism +in the trenches that reached us. The losses in ships served partially to supplement<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +the numbers of men available: a choice could be made in engagement of a +crew. Over all, there was the menace to our seafaring—the threat and challenge +to our sea-pride, as compelling and remedial as the draught of a free breeze. +In his action, the enemy made many miscalculations; not the least was when he +roused a spirit of readiness to service in our merchantmen; he blew more than +the acrid fumes into us with the shattering explosion of his torpedoes.</p> + +<p>If we may claim a patriotic influence acting upon our white seamen as reason +for good service in the war, how shall we assess the lascar's quiet employment +in a conflict that, perhaps, only dimly he understood? Of its operation he could +have no ignorance. <i>Schrecklichkeit</i> was particularly to be employed against the +native seaman. Shell and torpedo took toll of his numbers, but there was little +hesitancy when he was invited to sign for further voyages. It was ever a point +of prophecy with his detractors in the days of peace that he would be found +wanting under stress. Not boldly or magnificently or in a spirit of vainglory, +but in a manner that is not the less impressive because few have spoken of it, +he has given them the lie.</p> + +<p>The attitude of the naval authorities in regard to our manning is peculiar. +They seem to be unable to think of ships' crews in any other terms than that +of their own large complements. There is one part in the lectures of our instructional +course that never fails to arouse rude merriment among the master-seamen +attending—as it produces a shamefaced attitude on part of the naval +lecturer (now intimate with our difficulties). In instructions for detailing our +men to 'action stations' the phrases occur: "a party to be detached for attention +to wounded," "a party to serve hoses at fire stations," "an ammunition +supply party," "party to put the provisions and blankets in the boats." In +practice, we are also working the guns, attending the navigation, spotting the +fall of shot, keeping post at wheel and look-out. The average cargo vessel +rarely carries more than eight men on deck: we cannot afford to have many +wounded!</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> +<h2>PART II</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-096.jpg" width="500" height="338" alt="THE RULER OF PILOTS AT DEAL" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE RULER OF PILOTS AT DEAL</span> +</div> + + + + +<h2>VI</h2> + +<h3>THE COASTAL SERVICES</h3> + + +<h3><br />THE HOME TRADE</h3> + +<div class='poem2'> +"<i>We're a North-country ship, an' a deep-water crew.</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;"><i>A—way, i-oh!</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>Ye can stick t' th' coast, but we're damned if we do.</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;"><i>An' we're bound t' Rio Grande!</i>"</span><br /> +<br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>SO we sang—sounding a bravery at the capstan as we hove around and raised +anchor to begin a voyage. We had our ideas. We were foreign-going +sailors, putting out on a far venture. In pride of our seafaring—of +rounding the Horn, of crossing Equator, perhaps of a circumnavigation—we +looked down upon the coaster. He was a hoveller, a tidesman, a mud-raker<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>—his +anchors could shew no coral on the flukes as they came awash. We carried +these ideas to the beach. Deliberately, we produced an atmosphere that is unjust +to the cross-channel man.</div> + +<p>The oversea voyage possesses a greater appeal to the imagination. Long +distances, variation of the climes, storm and high ocean seas—a burthen of +goods brought from a far country, all contribute to make an impression that the +tale of a coasting <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'vayage'">voyage</ins> could not produce. Familiarity, perhaps, has robbed +the short-carriers' sea-trip of what shreds of romance existed. In tide and out, +the smaller vessels have grown to the sight as almost part of the familiar quays +and wharves they frequent. A voyage from Tyne to the Thames or from Glasgow +to Liverpool is so common and everyday that little remark is excited. We +are unconcerned at its incident; the gale that wrecked a collier on the Black +Middens may have blown a tile or two from our roof; the fog that bound the +Antwerp boat for a tide is, perhaps, the same that held us in the City for an hour +over time. We may entertain our friends with recital of a sea-voyage, but we +have not a great deal to say of a Channel passage.</p> + +<p>At war, this focus of the public outlook has persisted. The threat to our +sea-communications, to the source by which the nation gains its daily bread, +has drawn an intense interest to the fortunes of the ships, but that interest has +rarely been extended to the coasting vessels and the seamen who man them; +there is little said of the work of the coastal pilots, on whose skill and local knowledge +so much depends. We are concerned for our <i>Britannics</i> and <i>Justitias</i>, +but the fate of the <i>Sarah Pritchard</i> of Beaumaris, or the escape of <i>Boy Jacob</i> are +small events in relation to the toll of our tonnage. Their utility has not been +brought before us in the same way as the direct service of the great ocean carriers. +It is not difficult to understand that a breakdown of that source of supply would +mean starvation and disaster. Our dependence on the coasting vessels is not +so apparent. The vital needs served by them are, in part, obscured. We are, +perhaps, satisfied that alternative channels exist for passage of the tonnage +they transport: road and rail are open for inland carriage.</p> + +<p>The situation is not quite so clear. Pressure at the rail-heads, at the collieries, +at the steelworks and the manufactories, has thrown a burden on our island +railways that they are unable to bear. But for the service of the coasters and the +resolution of the home-trade seamen, the block to our traffic could not have +been other than fatal. By relieving the congestion on the lines, they made +possible the expansion of our output of munitions. Millions of tons that would +otherwise have been put upon land transport (and have lain to swell the accumulations), +are brought to tide-mark to be handled and cleared and ferried between +home ports and across the channels by the coasting vessels. The Fleet is coaled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +and stored almost entirely by sea. Our men in France and Flanders are carried +and fed and refitted by light-draught steamers. Power is transmitted to our Allies +from British coalfields by our grimy colliers. Constant voyaging, dispatch at +the ports of lading and discharge, seagoing through all weathers, make huge the +total of their tonnage, but their individual cargoes rank small against the mammoth +burdens of the oversea merchantmen. The sea-ants (however busily they +throng the ports) are seldom remarked; their work is carried on in the shadow of +more spectacular and lengthy voyaging. On occasion, a stray beam of popular +recognition is turned on the smaller craft—as when <i>Wandle</i> steams up Thames +after her gallant fight, or when <i>Thordis</i> (Bell, master) rams and sinks a U-boat—but +the light is quickly slewed again to illuminate the seafaring of the oversea +vessels. Similarly—with the men—interest has centred on the deep-water +mariner; the coasting masters and their crews, together with the pilots, are +little heard of. Their navigations, steering by the land on a short passage of a +tide or two, have not the compelling emphasis of long voyaging on distant seas. +Chroniclers of our deeds and fates have set out the drawn agony of the raft and +the open boat in mid-Atlantic; they are less insistent on the tragedies (as bitter +and prolonged) of inshore waters. Perhaps they are influenced by a common +misconception that succour is ever ready at hand in the narrow sea. There +are the lifeboats on the coast, patrols on keen look-out in the channels, vessels +are ever passing up and down the fairways; the land, in any case, is not far +distant. Such assurance has but slender warrant. Gallant, unselfish, and +thorough as are the services of the lifeboatmen, their operations in the main are +intended to serve known wrecks and strandings. A flare in the darkness or +a flash of gunfire in the channels is now no special signal; the new sea-casualty +gives little time or warning for a muster of resources. The ready succour of the +patrols is, perhaps, more instant and alert, but the channel seaways cover an area +that no system could place under a quartered post or guard. No vigilance +could prevent the capture of <i>Brussels</i> and the martyrdom of Captain Fryatt; +the crew of the <i>Nelson</i> smack were for over thirty hours adrift in the narrow seas +ere they were sighted and rescued. In the busy waters of the Irish Sea, three men +of the ketch <i>Lady of the Lake</i> made ten miles in eight hours under oars, after their +vessel had been sunk by gunfire. A weary progress, with ships passing near and +far, but none daring too close the boat that might, for all they know, be trap for +an enemy mine or torpedo.</p> + +<p>It is time we ceased to sing that Rio Grande chanty: an <i>amende</i> is overdue.</p> + +<p>While we, the foreign-going men, have our 'ins and outs' of the most dangerous +seas—serving our turn in the front-line sea-trenches, then retiring to a rest in +safer and more distant waters—the coastal seaman has no such relief. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +daily duty lies in the storm-centre, in the very midst of the sea-war. From +harbour mouth to the booms of his port of entry, no course can be steered +that does not drive his keel through minable areas and across the ranges of +lurking submarines.</p> + +<p>The new sea-warfare has developed a scheme of offence that renders our inshore +waters peculiarly fraught with peril to navigators. The coast-line is no longer +a defence and protection; rather, by limiting sea-room in manœuvre, the shoals +and rock-bound beach have turned ally to the enemy. Sea-mark and headland +provide a guide in estimating the run of a torpedo; note of a point definite, +on which sea-routes converge, is of value to a submarine commander. Even +in the shallower waters—depths in which a torpedo attack would be difficult—an +equally deadly offence may be maintained. The run of the sea-bottom in +the channels offering a good hold to slipped mine-moorings, it was not long before +the enemy had adapted submarines to continue the minelaying that our command +of the surface had stopped. While new and larger U-boats are sent abroad on +the trade routes, special submarines, less encumbered by the stores and equipment +that longer passages would demand, make frequent visits to the fairways to +sow a freight of mines. No section of the channels holds sanctuary for the coaster. +Close inshore, as in the offing, is all a danger area, open to the stealthy visits of +the submarine minelayers. Right on the Mersey Bar, the Liverpool pilot +steamer went up with a loss of forty lives; remote West Highland bays have +echoed to the crash of mines exploded; seaward of the Irish banks, the deeps +are alike dangerous. Counter-measures there are (services as efficient and +resourceful in life-saving as those of the enemy are cunning and viciously ingenious +in murder), but even the gallantry and skill and untiring efforts of our +minesweepers cannot wholly clear the immense water-spaces. Mechanical +contrivances—the Otters—are valuable, and aid in fending the mines, but (the +sea-bottom being foul with wreckage) they are often a danger to their carriers. +There is ever the harassing uncertainty which no vigilance may allay. The +sheer relief of passing over the hundred-fathom line to the comparative safety +of the deeps of ocean is never experienced by the cross-channel captain.</p> + +<p>Favoured by their light draught and smaller proportions, the coasters are +perhaps less exposed to successful torpedo attack than their larger and deeper +ocean sisters. In the early days of submarine activity, the enemy was loath +to use his deadlier and more expensive weapon on the small craft. He relied on +gunfire to produce effects. The channel seas were not then as well patrolled as +now by armed auxiliaries: he could have a leisurely exercise in frightfulness at +little risk to himself—there was no return to his fire—it was an easy target practice. +<i>Cottingham</i> was shelled at short ranges when off the Bristol Channel. Unarmed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +and outdistanced, the master stopped his engines, lowered the two boats, and +abandoned ship. The shelling continued, but was directed on the sinking ship; +the submarine commander evidently thought the bitter wintry weather would +accomplish a more refined <i>Schrecklichkeit</i> than the summary execution of his shell-bursts. +In the heavy battery of a sou'west gale, the boats drove apart. The +master's boat was sighted by a patrol, and the crew of six rescued after some hours' +exposure. The mate's boat came ashore at Portliskey in Wales, bottom up and +shattered; of the seven men who had manned her there was no trace. Six of +<i>Cottingham's</i> crew survived the bitter weather—six hardy seamen were spared +to return to service afloat. The German became dissatisfied with a frightfulness +that murdered only half a merchant ship's crew when it was possible to murder +all. It was not enough to destroy the ships and leave the seamen to the wind and +sea and bitter weather. If they were not to be driven from their calling by fear, +there were other measures—sure, definite, final. There was to be no weakness +among the apostles of the new creed, no shrinking, no humanity—British seamen +were to follow their shattered ships to the litter of the channel bottom. The +<i>Kölnische Zeitung</i> set forth that "in future, our German submarines and aircraft +would wage war against British mercantile vessels without troubling themselves in +any way about the fate of the crews." The <i>Kölnische Zeitung</i> could not have been +well informed. Their submarine commanders troubled themselves greatly about +the fate of our crews. They shelled the boats in many subsequent attacks. They +expended ammunition in efforts to secure that no further seafaring would be +possible to their victims. Sheer individual murder took the place of an illegal +act of war. ". . . We were unarmed, a slow ship. The submarine hit us with a +shot on the bow and then ran up the signal to take to the lifeboats. We did +so, and several shots were fired at the <i>Palermo</i>. They did not take effect, however, +and a torpedo was sent into her side. She sank within a few minutes. +Whether the fact that he had to use a torpedo to send our vessel to the bottom +angered the commander I do not know, but the submarine came directly alongside +of our lifeboats. The commander was on the deck, and yelled, 'Where is the +captain of that ship?' The captain stood up and made his way to the side where +the German was standing. The German held his revolver close to our captain's +head. 'You will never bring <i>another ship across this ocean</i>,' he said, using several +oaths, then he pulled the trigger. Our captain fell dead, and we were permitted +to continue."</p> + +<p>The new campaign was directed particularly against the coasters and fishermen. +The procedure was simple. No great speed or gun-range was required. +There was no risk, if a good look-out was kept for patrols and war craft. The +helpless, unarmed vessel, outsped and hulled, was brought-to within easy range,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +and shelling could be continued to augment the confusion of boat-lowering in +a seaway. If by resolution and fine seamanship the boats were got away, +there was further target practice with shrapnel or machine-gun. The schooner +<i>Jane Williamson</i> of Arklow was attacked without warning. The first shot +smashed one of her boats, the second killed one of the crew. At shouting distance—a +hundred yards range—point-blank under the submarine's gun—there could +be no question of defence or escape. The remaining five hands put over the +second boat, tumbled into her and shoved clear. To hit the boat the submarine's +gun must have been slewed deliberately from the larger target: bad shooting +could not have occurred. Afloat and helpless, a shell struck her, killing one man +outright, mortally wounding the master and another, and damaging the frail +row-boat. The Germans beckoned the boat to them, but it was only to laugh +at the throes of the dying men. The U-boat submerged, leaving the three survivors +to ship oars and face the long weary pull towards the distant land. The +<i>William</i> was sunk by gunfire; the gun's crew of the U-boat then loaded shrapnel +and turned the gun on the open boat, wounding a man of the crew. <i>Redcap</i> was +hauling her trawl when without any warning shrapnel burst on board. There was +no challenge, the fishermen had made no attempt to get under way and escape. +Busied with the gear, all hands were grouped together, when the shell exploded +among them. One hand was killed instantly, the mate's leg was blown off, two +seamen were wounded. Under fire, the survivors put the boat over and removed +the wounded; the Germans gave no thought to their distress, but centred rapid +fire on the trawler, sunk her, and disappeared.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a> +<img src="images/i-102.jpg" width="500" height="639" alt="A HEAVILY ARMED COASTING BARGE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">A HEAVILY ARMED COASTING BARGE</span> +</div> + +<p>When guns were served to merchant ships, the coasters shared in their issue. +Encounters with enemy submarines were no longer one-sided and hopeless. +Effects could not be secured by the Germans at so small a cost. Frequently +the effects were those that the submarine commander was most anxious to +avoid. <i>Atalanta</i> picked up the crew of <i>Maréchal de Villars</i>, then fought +off the U-boat that had sunk that vessel. Watchers on the coastal headlands +saw many a running fight between handy little home-traders and the +under-sea pirates. Nor were the fishermen slow in action. Once armed for +defence, they proved that they could use their weapons with skill and precision. +Off Aberdeen in stormy weather, a German submarine hove up from +his depths for practice on a fleet of trawlers. It was to be a <i>Redcap</i> diversion: +rapid fire, shrapnel, boats thrown out hastily, common shell on the hulls of the +trawlers—wholesale destruction. But there was a mistake. A 'watch-dog' was +among the fleet—<i>Commissioner</i>, armed and alert. At an opportune moment +she cut her gear adrift, canted under speed and helm, returned the U-boat's +fire and sank her in five rounds. Submarine commanders soon realized that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +'diversions' were risky, the target could now hit back. It was safer to submerge +when within range of anything larger than a row-boat. Even the sailing barges +acquired a sting. In proportion to her tonnage, <i>Drei Geschwister</i>—a captured +German, refitted to our coastal service—is probably the heaviest armed vessel +afloat.</p> + +<p>In channel waters, look-outs must not be confined to the round of the sea. +To the U-boat's gunfire and torpedo, to the menace of moored and drifting +mines, is added a danger that rarely threatens the oversea trader—an attack +from the air. Striking distance from enemy bases has given opportunity +for exercise of aircraft. Zeppelin and seaplane have their turns of activity +in the North Sea and the Straits. Steering a careful course in a sea 'foul +with floating mines,' the Cork steamship <i>Avocet</i> was attacked by three aeroplanes. +The action lasted for over half an hour. Bombs exploded alongside, +the bridge and upper decks were scarred and pitted by a hail of machine-gun +bullets. The master and mate kept the aircraft at a respectful height by +using their rifles—the only arms carried. By skilful handling, Captain Brennell +saved his ship. He is probably the only seaman who has steered a deliberate +course between a 'fall' of bombs; swinging on starboard helm, 'three bombs +missed the starboard bow and three the port quarter by at most seven feet.' +The <i>Birchgrove</i> was attacked by two seaplanes carrying torpedoes—a novel +adaptation. Again the use of ready helm proved a moving ship a difficult +target. Both torpedoes missed. Less fortunate was the <i>Franz Fischer</i>, an ex-German +collier. Anchored off the Kentish Knock, the night black dark, the +thunder of a Zeppelin's engines was heard overhead. Before there was time to +extinguish all lights, the huge airship was able to take up a position for attack. +One heavy bomb sufficed. <i>Franz Fischer</i> reeled to a tremendous explosion, +heeled over, and sank. Only three survived of her crew of sixteen.</p> + +<p>Constant sea-perils are enhanced by war measures in the channels. On +open sea there is less confusion; the issue is narrowed to contest between ship +and submarine and the hazard of a derelict or floating mine—there is ample sea-room +in which to 'back and fill.' The coaster has a harder task. His navigational +problem is complicated by the eight hundred odd pages of 'Notices to +Mariners'—the amends and addends and cancellations of Admiralty instructions +relating to the seafaring of the coast. Inner channels are confused by 'friendly' +minefields or by alteration of the buoyage; aids to navigation are suspended or +rearranged on scant notice; coastwise lights are put out or have their powers +reduced to small efficiency in the mists and grey weather. Unmarked wrecks, +growing daily in numbers, litter the sea-bottom; areas are to be avoided to leave +a fair field for the hunters; zigzag courses in close proximity to the land sustain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +a constant anxiety. Above all, navigation without lights increases the danger +to all merchantmen and to the patrols and naval craft that crowd the seaways of +the coast.</p> + +<p>Through all that the enemy can set against them, the home-trade vessels +proceed on their voyages. Their losses are heavy in numbers (if the sum of their +tonnage be not great), but the press of short sea-carriers that passes <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'upChannel'">up Channel</ins> or +down shews no evidence that frightfulness achieves an effect in holding them, +loath, at their moorings. There is freight enough for all. Every vessel that +has a sound keel and a helm to steer her is actively employed. Old craft and odd +are come on the sea to serve turn in our emergency. Barges and inland watermen, +Hudson Bay sloops, whilom pleasure craft, mud-hoppers reshelled, hulks even, +are used; if they can neither sail nor steam, the ropemakers can supply a hawser—there +is trade and bargain for a tow. After peace-years of grinding competition +with the freight-grabbing steam coasters, the sailing craft of the smaller ports +have found a new prosperity, from which no risks can daunt them. Sailmakers +and rigging-cutters, the block and spar makers, have taken up their old tools +again, and the gallant little topsail schooners, brigantines, cutters, and ketches +are out under canvas.</p> + +<p>The German boast that he can achieve victory by submarine policy could be +nowhere more plainly refuted than in the War Channel that extends from the +Thames to the Tyne. The evidence is there for all to judge. The seaway is +foul with wrecks, foundered on beach and sandbar—the tide vexed by under-water +obstructions. Topmast spars with whitened cordage whipping in the wind +stand out above the swirl of the tides; a shattered bow-section or gaunt listed +shell of a wrecked vessel sets the turn to a new shoal drift; crazy funnels, twisted +and arake by the broken hulls below, stud the angles of the buoyage that marks +the fairway. Disaster to our shipping is plainly shewn, grouped in a way that +no figures or statistics could rival. But there is other evidence. Daybreak +in the Channel gives light to a progress of seaworthy craft that seems in no way +diminished by the worst that the enemy can do. He has failed, despite the sinister +sea-marks that litter the fairway. Down the river estuaries and out from the sea-harbour +and roadstead, the coasters still join in company through the channels. +An unending procession; the grey seascape is never free of their whirling smoke-wreaths. +Passing and turning in the deeps, they steam close to the red-rusted, +shattered hulls of their sister ships. The gaunt masses of tortured steel stand +out as monuments to an indomitable spirit—or to an influence that calls their +sea-mates out to steer by the loom of their wreckage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><br />PILOTS</h3> + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">If</span> we may count antiquity and precedence a claim, the pilot is the real senior +of our trade. Before the ship and her tackling—the rude coracle, setting across +the river bars or steering on a short passage by sea-marks on the coast, +before the oversea venturer with his guide in sun and star—the lodesman, who +marked the deeps and the shallows.</div> + +<p>The pilot's departure and boarding are definite and well-marked incidents +in the course of a voyage, and have a significance and interest few other ship-happenings +claim. He is our last and first connection with the shore. His +leaving is attended by a sober emotion, a compound of regret and impatience; +regret that his sure support is withdrawn—impatience to go ahead to open +sea. He backs over the rail and lurches down the swaying side-ladder to his +dinghy to an accompaniment of cordial good-byes. Passengers crowd the +bulwarks to watch his small boat go a-bobbing in the stern-wash as we gather +way. It hardly occurs to them that their farewell letters, now in his weather-stained +bag, may be for days or weeks unposted; to them he is the last post—the +link is snapped, the voyage now really begun.</p> + +<p>There may be masters who affect a fine aloofness when the pilot boards them +on incoming, others who preserve a detached air—but there are few who do not +feel relief in answering the cheerful hail—'All well aboard, Captain?'—as the +pilot puts a cautious testing foot on the side-ladder. Here is the voyage practically +at an end with the coming of an expert in local navigation. The anxiety +of a landfall is over. The channel buoys, port hand and starboard, stretch +out ahead to mark definite limits to shoal and sandbank; familiar landmarks +loom up through the drift of distant city haze; the outer lightship curtsies +in the swell, beckoning us into port to resume the brief round of longshore life. +After a lengthy period of silence and detachment, we are again in touch with the +affairs of the beach; the news of the day and of weeks past is told to us in intervals +of steering orders—sailor news, edited by a competent understanding of our professional +interests. The tension of the voyage is unconsciously relaxed. We are +in good hands. The engines turn steadily and we come in from sea.</p> + +<p>If the pilot was ever a welcome attendant in the peaceful days, his services in +the war earn for him an even warmer appreciation. War measures in their operation +have rendered our seaports difficult of entry. The buoyage has, perhaps, +been reset in the interval of a voyage's absence. Boom defences and examination +areas exist, channels are closed or obstructed; certain of the lightships<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +or floating marks may be withdrawn on short warning. Amid all our doubts +and uncertainties, we look for the one assured sea-mark on the unfamiliar +bars—the red-and-white emblem of a pilot vessel on her boarding station. Undeterred +by the risk of mine or torpedo while marking time on their cruising +ground, the pilots are constantly on the alert to board the incoming vessels as +they approach from seaward. No state of the weather drives the cutter from +her station to seek shelter in safer waters. If the seas are too high for boatwork, +she steams ahead and offers a lead to a quieter section of the fairway where +boarding may be attempted.</p> + +<p>Turn and turn of the pilots in service can no longer be effected. The even +balances of their roster (that worked so well in peace-time) have been rudely +disturbed by war. The steady round of duty, in which every man knew +the date of his relief, has given place to a state of 'feast and famine'; all +hands are frequently mustered to meet the sudden and unheralded demands +of an inward-bound convoy, or the limited accommodation of the cutter is taxed +and overloaded by the release of pilots from an outward mass sailing.</p> + +<p>There are grades of pilotage—from that of the rivers and protected waters +to the more hazardous voyages between coastal ports. It is, perhaps, to the sea-pilots +of Trinity we are most intimately drawn. While the river pilot is with us +for the short term of the tide, the Trinity man is of our ship's company for a day +or days. His valued local knowledge is at our service to set and steer fair courses +in the perplexing tangents of unfamiliar tideways; operations of the minesweepers +and patrols—that alter and multiply beyond counting in the course of a voyage +abroad—are a plain book to him. If we meet disaster in the channels, we have +a prompter at our elbow to advise a favourable beaching. We have a peer to +confide in throughout our difficulties. After days of anxious watchkeeping on +the bridge we are well served by a competent relief.</p> + +<p>Ship movements in the western waters are controlled by the naval authorities +in a manner that allows of independent sailings, but the Trinity pilots' duties lie +in the Channel and the North Sea, where a more exacting regime is in force. +From the Downs to the north, measures adopted for protection of the ships call +for a time-table of sailings and arrivals that can only be adhered to by the pilot's +aid. A 'War Channel' is established, a sea-lane of some two hundred and +eighty miles that has constantly to be swept and cleared in advance of the +traffic. Navigation in the channel obstructs an efficient search for mines; sweeping +operations interfere with the passage of the ships. No small amount of control +and management is necessary to reconcile conflicting actions and expedite the +safe conduct of the shipping. Latterly, sailings were restricted to the hours of +daylight; a system of sectional passages is enforced, by which all vessels are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +scheduled to make a protected anchorage before nightfall. An effect of this is +to group the vessels in large scattered convoys, forming a pageant of shipping +that even the busiest days of peace-time could not rival.</p> + +<p>In all the story of the Downs, the great roadstead can rarely have presented +such a scene as when, on a chill winter morning, we lay at anchor awaiting +passage. Overnight, we had come in under convoy from the westward, eighteen +large ships, to swell the tonnage that had gathered from the Channel ports. +From Kingsdown to the Gull, there was hardly water-space to turn a wherry. +Even in the doubtful holding ground of Trinity Bay some large ships were +anchored, and the fairway through the Roads was encroached upon by more +than one of us—despite the summary signals from the Guardship. All types were +represented in our assembly; we boasted a combination in dazzle paint to set +us out, and our signal flags carried colour to the mastheads to complete the +variegations of our camouflage. Troop transports from the States, standard +cargo ships, munition carriers come over in the night from the French ports, +high-sided empty colliers returning to the north for further loads, deep-laden +freighters for London, ammunition and store ships for the Fleet, coasters and +barges, made up the mercantile shipping riding at anchor, while naval patrols +and harbour craft under way gave movement to the spectacle. Snow had fallen, +and the uplands above Deal and Walmer had white drifts in the quartered fields. +To seaward, we could see twin wreaths of smoke blowing low on the water, +marking the progress of a flotilla of minesweepers, on whose operations we waited. +A brisk north wind held out our signal flags, shewing our ports of destination, +and the pilot cutter, busily serving men on the inward bound, took note of our +demands. In time, the punt delivered our pilot, and we hove short, awaiting +a signal from the Guardship that would release the traffic.</p> + +<p>The teeth of the Goodwins had bared to a snarl of broken water that shewed +the young flood making when movement began among the ships. Long experience +had accustomed the pilots to the ways of the minesweepers, and when the +clearing signal 'Vessels may proceed' was hoisted at the yard-arm of the Guardship, +there were few anchors still to be raised. Crowding out towards the northern +gateway, we found ourselves in close formation. Variations of speeds rendered +the apparent confusion difficult to steer through, but the action of a kindred +masonry among the pilots seemed to clear the narrow sea-lane. There was little +easing of speed; with only a few hours of winter daylight to work in, shipping +was being driven at its utmost power to make the most of the precious time. +'All out,' stoking up and setting a stiff smoke-screen over the seascape, we thinned +out to a more comfortable formation, while the smaller craft, taking advantage +of the rising tide, cut the inner angles of the channel to keep apace.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>With flood tide to help us, we made good progress. The press of shipping +gradually dropped astern till only the troop transport, our sea-neighbours of +the convoy, kept company with us. Satisfied with the speed made, the pilot +reckoned up the mileage and the tide. We were for Hull and, with luck, he expected +to make Yarmouth Roads before darkness and the Admiralty regulations +obliged us to bring up. Like all who serve the tide, he was prepared for an upset +to his plans. "Not much use figuring things out in these days, Capt'n," he said. +"A lot o' happenings come our way. In spite o' these fellows out there"—he +pointed to a group of destroyers lining out on our seaward beam—"the U-boat +minelayers get in on the channels to lay 'eggs'; as fast as we can sweep them +up, sometimes. But"—cheerfully—"they don't always get back for another +load: saw the bits o' one being towed into Harwich last week."</p> + +<p>Happenings came our way. At the Edinburgh Channel, where the troop +transports parted company and turned away for London, we were halted by an +urgent signal from a spurring torpedo-boat. 'Ships bound north to anchor +instantly,' was the reading of her flags; we rounded to and obeyed. In groups +and straggling units, we were joined by the larger number of the fleet that had left +the Downs with us. Some few were for the Thames and steamed ahead in wake +of the troop-ships, but the most were bound for east-coast ports and anchored +near the Channel Lightship. Two hours of precious daylight were lost to us +as we rode out the last of the flood. High water came and we swung around +on the cant of the wind. The pilot grew visibly impatient. The traverse of his +reckoning lessened in mileage with every hasty step or two up and down the bridge. +Yarmouth Roads receded into the morrow; Lowestoft (if the chief could crack +her up to thirteen) was possible, but unlikely. Time passed, with no clearing +signal—we were to be 'nipped' on the long stretch with no prospect but to dodge +into Hollesay Bay before black night came.</p> + +<p>By some mysterious agency, the coasters developed a foreknowledge of +permission to proceed. Feathers of white steam curled from their windlasses, +and their anchors were awash before the block was signalled clear. They had +start of us. Less handily, we got under way and stood on into the Black Deep, +where the smaller craft were throwing green smoke in their efforts to get ahead. +The tide had now turned ebb to set us on our way. As we surged past the channel +buoys the pilot was reassured. The prospect of windy Lowestoft Roads +beckoned him on with every coaster we overhauled and passed; the outlook +improved as we timed our passage between the sea-marks. Off the Sunk, we +came on the cause of our stoppage. The pilot noted a new wreck on the sands, +one that had not been there when last he steered over this route. Beached at +high water, he said. She had not been long on. The wreck lay listed on a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +spit of the sandbank. Her bows were blown open, exposing the interior of forecastle +and forehold. Neutral colours were painted on her topside; the boats +were gone and dangling boat-falls streamed alongside in the tideway. There +was no sign of life on her, but a patrol drifter was standing by with a crowd of +men on her decks. Out to seaward a flotilla of minesweepers was busily at work. +Turning no more than a curious eye on the mined neutral, the pilot paid attention +to the steering. That we were over a mined area had no grave concern for +him. Relying on the minesweepers, he kept course and speed—the channel was +reported clear.</p> + + +<h3><br />LIGHTSHIPS</h3> + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Devoted</span> to the service of humanity, in a bond that linked all seafarers, +lightships and isolated sea-beacons were regarded as exempted from the operation +of warlike acts. The claim of the 'beacons established for the guidance of +mariners' rested upon a high conception of world-wide service to mankind. +Their duties were not directed to military uses or to favouring alone the nation +who manned them. Their upkeep was met by a universal levy. Their warning +beams were not withdrawn from foreign vessels; no effort was made to establish +the nationality of a ship in distress ere setting portfire to the signal-gun to call +out the lifeboat. On rare occasions sea-rovers interfered with the operation +of the guide-marks. Retribution overtook them; they were outlawed by even +the loose opinion of the period. There is surely more than legend in the ballad +of Sir Ralph the Rover; if death by shipwreck was not actually his fate, it is at +least the penalty adjudged to him by popular acclaim. Smeaton, in his Folio, +records an instance of reparation for a similar 'diversion.'</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Lewis the Fourteenth being at war with England during the proceeding +with this building, a French privateer took the men at work upon the Eddystone +Rock, together with their tools, and carried them to France, and the +Captain was in expectation of a reward for the achievement. While the +captives lay in prison, the transaction reached the ears of that monarch. +He immediately ordered them to be released and the captors to be put in +their place: declaring that though he was at war with England, he was not +at war with mankind. He therefore directed the men to be sent back to +their work with presents, observing that the Eddystone Lighthouse was so +situated as to be of equal service to all nations having occasion to navigate +the Channel."</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<p>A lightship is as peaceful and immobile as the granite blockstones of a lighthouse. +She requires an even greater protection, exposed as she is to dangers on +the sea that do not threaten the landward structure. She is incapable of offence +or defence. Unarmed, save for the signal-gun that is only used to warn a vessel +from the sands or to summon assistance to a ship in distress, she can offer no +resistance to a show of force. She is moored to withstand the strongest gales, +and cannot readily disengage her heavy ground-tackle. She has no efficient +means of propulsion; parted from her stout anchors, she would drive helplessly +on to the very shoals she had been set to guard. To all seafarers, in war +as in peace, she should appeal as a sea-mark to be spared and protected; in the +service of humanity, she is exposed to danger enough—to the furious gales from +which she may not run.</p> + +<p>Unlike the Grand Monarch, the Germans are bitterly at war with mankind. +As one of their first war acts at sea, they shelled the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Ostende'">Ostend</ins> Lightship. Like +the Lamb, she was using the water; the Wolf would suffer no protestation of her +innocency. Was she not floating placidly on the same tides that served the +German coast?</p> + +<p>In view of his subsequent atrocities in torpedoing hospital ships and shelling +rafts and open boats, it is probable that our light-vessels would have been similarly +destroyed by the enemy, but that his submarine commanders found under-water +navigation required as accurate a check as in coasting on the surface. The fury +of the Wolf was, in his own interest, tardily suppressed. He recognized that the +value of the lightships in establishing a definite position was an asset to him. +Withal—his 'fix' decided—he had no qualms in sowing mines in the area of these +signposts; nor did he stay his hand in the case of a sea-mark that was not vital +to his plans. Two lightships on the east coast were blown up by mines; one, off +the coast of Ireland, was deliberately torpedoed.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 435px;"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a> +<img src="images/i-112.jpg" width="435" height="600" alt="THE LAMPMAN OF THE GULL LIGHTSHIP" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE LAMPMAN OF THE GULL LIGHTSHIP</span> +</div> + +<p>The menace of the German sea-mine remains the greatest war danger to which +the lightships are exposed. Zeppelin and seaplane pay visits to the coastal waters, +but the sea is wide for a chance missile from the air, and no great success has +attended their bombing efforts. But the enemy mine has no instant aim. Full-charged +and deadly, its activity is not confined—as the British mine is—to the +area of the mooring. Their minelayers, creeping in to the fairways in cloak of +the darkness, are anxious to settle their cargo of high explosive as quickly as +possible. Not all of the mines they sow hold to the hastily slipped 'sinkers' +till disaster to our shipping or the untiring search of the minesweepers reveals +their presence. Many break adrift and surge in the tideways, moving as the set +of the current takes them. Vessels under way, by keen look-out and ready helm, +can sight and avoid the drifting spheres, but the lightships have no power to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +steer clear. Moored on the offset of a shoal or sandbank (their position, indeed, +a guide to the minelayer), their broad bows offer contact to all flotsam that comes +down on swirl of the tide. The authorities were unwilling to expose their men +to a danger that could not be evaded, however gallant the shipmen or skilled +their seamanship. It was not a seagoing risk that could be met; no adequate +protection consistent with the lightship's mission could be devised. As the +submarine war became intensified, the more distant vessels were withdrawn; +new routes were set to divert shipping from the outer passages; only those +floating sea-marks are now maintained whose removal would entail disaster +to the traffic that passes by night and day.</p> + +<p>Holding station in waters that are patrolled and, in part, protected, the Trinity +men who form the crews of the lightships have readjusted their manning. A +large proportion of the able-bodied men have joined the naval forces, leaving the +older hands (and some few who have a physical disability) to tend the lights. +War risks still remain, for the German minelayers have followed the shipping +to the inner channels, but the greybeards have grown stolid and immovable in a +service that was never at any time a safe and equable calling. They have become +sadly familiar with the new sea-warfare—with disaster to the shipping in the +channels. While they have incident enough, in the movement and activity of +patrols and war craft, in the ceaseless sweeping of the channels, to judge our sea-power +and take pride in its strength, they have all too frequent experience of the +murderous under-water mechanics of the enemy. Living in the midst of sea-alarms, +the old placid tedium of their 'sixty days' has given place to an excitement +that even the monotonous rounds of their small ship-life cannot suppress. +The men on the 'Royal Sovereign' were observers of the terrific power of the sea-mine; +three ships in sight being blown to small wreckage within an hour. +'Shambles' jarred to distant torpedoings off the Bill. The 'South Goodwin' +saw <i>Maloja</i> brought up in her stately progress by a thundering explosion, then +watched her list and settle in the stormy seaway; a second crash and upheaval +drew the eyes of the watch on deck to the fate of the <i>Empress of Fort William</i> +as she was hastening to succour the people of the doomed liner. Up Channel and +down, the lightshipmen were observers of the toll exacted by the enemy—the +price we paid for the freedom of the seas.</p> + +<p>But not all their observations of sea-casualties brought gloom to the dog-watch +reckoning. If there remained no doubt of the intensity and power of German +submarine activity, they were equally assured of the efficiency of our surface +offence, and the deadly precision of our own under-water counter-measures. +On occasion, there were other sea-dramas enacted under the eyes of the lightshipmen—short, +swift engagements that set an oily scum welling over the clean sea-space<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +of the channel, or an affair of rapid gunfire that cleared a pest from the +narrow waters. There is at least one instance of a lightship having a commanding, +if uncomfortable, station in an action between our drifters and a large enemy +submarine. The lampman of the 'Gull' had a front view. . . . "Misty weather, +it was. Day was just breakin', about seven o' th' mornin' when I see him. I +see him just over there—a little t' th' nor'ard o' that wreckage on th' Sands. A +big fella, about th' size o' them oil-barges as passes hereabouts. I didn't make +him out at first—account o' th' mornin' haze, but there was somethin' over +there where no ship didn't oughta be. I calls down th' companion—'Master,' +I says, 'there's somethin' on th' north end o' th' Sands.' He comes up an' has a +look. Then we made 'im out what he was, a big German sub.—but he hadn't no +flag flyin'. Jest then we hears firin', an' th' shells goes over us an' lands nigh +him. They was three drifters jes' come out o' th' Downs t' start sweepin' an', +all three, they goes for him like billy-o—firin' as they comes. We was right +atween them an' th' shots passes over th' lightship. One as was short just pitches +clear an 'undred yards ahead o' us. Two guns he had—th' sub.—an' they didn't +half make a din as they goes at it—<i>bang-bang-bang!</i> Th' drifters passes us, +goin' a full clip. The first one, she got hit a-top th' wheelhouse, but they didn't +stop for nothin'. The' keeps bangin' away with th' gun. . . . Yes. Some shots +landed hereabouts, but we was busy watchin' th' drifters. . . . I see their +shots hittin', too. I see one blaze up on th' submarine's deck, an' one o' his +guns didn't talk back no more. Th' drifters was steerin' straight for him. I +dunno how one o' them didn't go ashore herself—near it, she was. The sub. +was hard on by this time, an' he stands high—with a list, too, but fightin' away +like he was afloat.</p> + +<p>"Two more drifters come up an' they joins in, an' th' shells goes <i>who-o-o-o!</i> +overhead again. Then a destroyer, he comes tearin' along at full speed, an' +he puts th' finishin' touch to him. There was an explosion on th' submarine, an' +th' nex' we see—we see his men tumblin' out o' him overside t' th' Sands. . . . +Them up t' their middles in th' water an' holdin' their hands up."</p> + +<p>The lampman was, of his service, a trained observer. He said nothing of +the scene on the deck of the lightship—the watch tumbling up from below, +their clothing hastily thrown on—the questioning, the alarmed cries. His concern +was directed to the happenings on spit of the Sands. "Some shots landed +hereabouts," he said; but his interest was on the Goodwins.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-116.jpg" width="500" height="278" alt="MINESWEEPERS GOING OUT" title="" /> +<span class="caption">MINESWEEPERS GOING OUT</span> +</div> + +<h2>VII</h2> + +<h3>'THE PRICE O' FISH'</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>THE inshore patrol hailed us and reported the channel clear as far as the +Nore, and we stood on at full speed, making the most of the short winter +daylight. Past the Elbow buoy, we met the minesweepers returning +from a sweep of their section. They were steaming in two columns, line ahead, +and we sheered a little to give them room; within the reading of our Admiralty +instructions, they were a 'squadron in formation,' to whose movements we were +advised to give way. They passed close. The leader of the port column was +<i>Present Help;</i> we read the name on a gilt scroll that ornamented her wheelhouse. +For the rest, she was trim in a coat of iron-grey, with her port and number +painted over. A small gun—a six-pounder, perhaps—was mounted on her +bows, and she carried a weather-stained White Ensign aloft. She scurried +past us, pitching to our bow wash in an easy sidling motion that set her +wheelhouse glasses flashing a cheery message. The skipper leaned from an open +doorway, in an attitude of ease that, somehow, assured us of his day's work +being well done—with no untoward happenings. He waved his cap to our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +greeting. <i>Present Help</i> and her sisters went by, and we returned to our course +in the fairway.</div> + +<p>"These lads," said the pilot, waving his arm towards the fast-receding flotilla. +"If it wasn't for these lads, Capt'n, you and I wouldn't feel exactly comfortable +on the bridge in channel waters. Two went up this week, and one a little while +agone." He turned his palms upward and raised both arms in an expressive +gesture. . . . "Three gone, one with all hands, but only one merchant ship done +in by mines hereabouts in the last month. (<i>Starboard, a little, quartermaster!</i>). . . +I dunno how we could carry on without them. Out there in all weathers, +clearing the fairways and—Gad!—it takes some doing. . . . I was talking to one +of the skippers in Ramsgate the other day. Saying what I'm saying—(<i>Steady, +now, steady's you go!</i>)—what I'm saying now, and all he said was—'Right, +pilot,' he says. 'If you feels that way, remember it when we gets back to th' +fishin' in peace-time, an'—for th' Lord's sake—keep clear o' our gear when th' +nets is down! I lost a tidy lot o' gear,' he says, 'with tramps an' that bargin' +about on th' fishin' grounds.'. . . He didn't think nothing of this minesweeping. +His mind was bent on his nets and the fish again." A pause, while he conned the +ship on a steady course, then, reflectively, "An' there's some folks—there's +folks ashore growling about the price o' fish!"</p> + +<p>Of courage in the war, on land as on sea, there are few records comparable +to the silent devotion of the fishermen. The heat of attack and fury of battle +may call out a reckless heroism that has no bounds to individual gallantry, but +the sustained courage required for a lone action under heavy odds—every turn +of the engagement being assessed and understood—is of a rarer quality; mere +physical health and high spirit cannot generate it; tradition of a sea-inherence +and long self-training alone can bring it forth. That the fishermen (inured to a +life of bold hazard and hardship) would offer valuable service in emergency +was never doubted, but that the level of their gallantry should reach such +heights, even those who knew them were hardly prepared to assume. And we +were weak in our judgment, for their records held ample evidence by which we +should have been able to predict a bravery in war action no less notable than their +courage in the equally perilous ways of their trade. For a lifetime at war with +the sea, wresting a precarious living from the grudging depths, their skill and +resolution required no stimulus under the added stress of sea-warfare. In the +fury of the channel gales, shipwreck and disaster called forth the same spirit of +dogged endurance and elevating humanity that marks their new seafaring under +arms. The countless instances of their service to vessels in distress, to torpedoed +merchantmen and warships, in the records of strife, are but repetitions of their +sea-conduct throughout the years of their trading. When Rozhdestvensky's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +panic-stricken gunlayers opened fire on the 'Gamecock' fleet on the Dogger, the +story of that outrage was distinguished by the same heroism of the trawlermen +that ennobles their diary to-day. When the <i>Crane</i> was sinking, the crew of <i>Gull</i>, +themselves suffering under fire, boarded her to rescue the survivors. . . . "When +they got on board the <i>Crane</i> they found the living members of the crew lying +about injured. The vessel was in total darkness, and it was known that at +any moment she might founder; yet Costello (the <i>Gull's</i> boatswain) went below +to the horrible little forecastle to bring up Leggatt's dead body. Smith (the +second hand), who took charge of the <i>Crane</i> when the skipper was killed, refused +to leave her till every man had been taken off. Rea (the engineer) showed unyielding +courage when, in spite of the fact that the little ship was actually +foundering, he groped back to the engine-room, which was in total darkness, to +reach the valves. The stokehold was flooded with water, and Rea could do +nothing. He went on deck, where the skipper was lying dead, and all the survivors, +except the boy, were wounded."</p> + +<p>In all its bearings, the comradely action of the <i>Gull</i> was but a foreshadowing +of <i>Gowan Lea's</i> assistance to <i>Floandi</i> in the raid by Austrian cruisers on the drifter +line in the Adriatic. The circumstances were curiously alike—the actual occurrence, +the individual deeds. We have Skipper Nichols refusing to leave until +his wounded were embarked, and Engineman Mobbs groping (as Rea did) through +the scalding steam of <i>Floandi's</i> wrecked engine-room to reach the stokehold and +draw the fires. Then, as in the Russians' sea-panic of October 1904, the fishermen +(fighting seamen now) came under a sudden and murderous gunfire at close +range. Overpowered by heavy armament, there was no flinching, no surrender. +<i>Gowan Lea</i> headed for the enemy with her one six-pounder spitting viciously. +The issue was not considered—though Skipper Joseph Watt must have had no +doubt that he was steering his drifter towards certain destruction. Her gun was +quickly put out of action. Her funnel and wheelhouse were riddled and shot to +pieces. Water made on her through shot-holes in the hull. On the gun-platform, +her gunlayer struggled to repair the mechanism of the breech—his leg +dangling and shattered. Shell-torn and incapable of further attack, she drifted +out of the line of fire. Bad as was her own condition, there were others in worse +plight. <i>Floandi</i> had come under direct point-blank fire, and her decks were a +shambles. Out of control—her main steam-pipe being shot through—seven dead +or badly wounded, and only three remaining to work her, she was in dire need of +assistance. Skipper Watt observed the distress of his sea-mate and steered +<i>Gowan Lea</i> down to her to offer the same brotherhood as of the <i>Gull</i> to +<i>Crane</i>. The analogy is peculiarly complete: the boarding, the succour to +the wounded, the reverent handling of the dead. Not as a new spirit born<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +of the stress of war, but as the outcome of an age-old tradition, Gowan Lea +stood by.</p> + +<p>After four years of warfare at sea, serving under naval direction and discipline, +one would have expected the fisherman sailing under the White Ensign to lose +at least a certain measure of his former character—to have become a naval seaman +in his habits of thought, in his actions, his outlook. Four years of constant +service! A long term! He has come under a control that differs as poles +apart from the free days of 'fleeting' and 'single boating.' He is set to service +in unfamiliar waters and abnormal climates, but the habits of the old trade still +cling to him. New gear comes to his hands—sweeps, depth-keepers, explosive +nets, hydrophones, and paravanes—but he regards them all as adaptations to his +fishing service. He is unchanged. He is still fishing; that his 'catch' may +be a huge explosive monster capable of destroying a Dreadnought does not seem +to have imposed a new turn to his thoughts. He is apart from the regular naval +service. The influence of his familiar little ship, the association of his kindred +shipmates, the technics of a common and unforgettable trade, have proved +stronger than the prestige of a naval uniform. In his terms and way of speech, +he draws no new farrago from his brassbound shipmate. Did not the skipper +of the duty patrol hail <i>Aquitania</i> on her approach to the Clyde booms and advise +the captain? . . . 'Tak' yeer <i>bit boatie</i> up atween thae twa trawlers!'</p> + +<p>The devotion and gallantry and humanity of the fishermen is not confined +to the enlisted section who man the patrol craft and minesweepers. The regular +trade, the old trade, works under the same difficulties and dangers that ever +menaced the ingathering of the sea-fishery. Serving on the sea in certain areas, +the older men and the very young still contrive to shoot the nets and down the +trawls. Their contribution to the diminished food-supply of the country is +not gained without loss; 'the price o' fish' is too often death or mutilation or +suffering under bitter exposure in an open boat. The efforts of the enemy to +stop our food-supply are directed with savage insistence towards reducing the +rations drawn from the deeps of the sea; brutality and vengeful fury increase +in intensity as the days pass and the indomitable fishermen return and return +to their grounds. In August 1914, fast German cruisers and torpedo-boats +raided our fleets on the Dogger Bank. Twenty fishing vessels were sunk, their +crews captured. There was no killing. ". . . The sailors [of the torpedo-boat] +gave us something to eat and drink, and we could talk and were pretty free," +said the skipper of <i>Lobelia</i>. Later, on being taken ashore ". . . with German +soldiers on each side of us, and the women and boys and girls shouting at us and +running after us and pelting us, we were marched through the streets of Wilhelmshaven +to a prison." Hardship, abuse! Now ridicule! ". . . The Germans<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +stripped us of everything we had. . . . But they were not content with that—they +disfigured us by cutting one half of the hair of our heads off and one half +of the moustache, cropping close and leaving the other half on, making you as +ugly as they could. . . . It was a nasty thing to do; but we made the best of it, +and laughed at one another."</p> + +<p>Hardship, abuse, ridicule! The fishermen still served their trade at sea. +Now, brutality! The third hand of <i>Boy Ernie</i> details the callous precision of +German methods in September 1915. The smack was unarmed. ". . . It was +very heavy and deliberate fire. [There were two enemy submarines.] The shots . . . were +coming on deck and going through the sails. We threw the boat +overboard and tumbled into her. . . . I started sculling the boat away from +the smack, all the time under fire; but the Germans were not content with firing +shells at a helpless craft—they now turned a machine-gun on to defenceless +fishermen in a boat on the open sea. . . . The boat was getting actually riddled +by the machine-gun fire, and before I knew what was happening, I was struck +by a bullet on the right thigh, and began to bleed dreadfully. . . . The smack +was blown to pieces and went down. This was the work of one of the submarines—while +she was sinking the smack the other was firing on us."</p> + +<p>Throughout all the malevolent and calculated campaign of destruction, the +fishermen remain steadfast to their old traditions of humanity. When <i>Vanilla</i> +is torpedoed without warning and vanishes in a welter of broken gear, her sea-mate, +<i>Fermo</i>, dodging a second torpedo, steams to the wreckage to rescue the +survivors—but finds none. In a heavy gale, <i>Provident</i> of Brixham risks her +mast and gear, gybing to close the sinking pinnace of the torpedoed <i>Formidable</i>, +and rescue the exhausted seventy-one men who crowded her. The instances of +fisher help to merchantmen in peril are uncounted and uncountable.</p> + +<p>In the distant days when the Sea Services were classed apart, each in its own +trade and section—working by a rule that admitted no co-partnery—we foreign +traders had little to do with those whom (in our arrogance) we deemed the +'humble' fishermen. In the mists of the channel waters, we came upon them +at their trawls or nets. Their floats and buoys obstructed our course; the small +craft, heading up on all angles, confused the operation of a 'Rule of the Road.' +Impatient of an alteration that took us miles from a direct course, we felt somewhat +resentful of their presence on the sea-route. That they were gathering and +loading a cargo under stress and difficulty that contrasted with <i>our</i> easy stowage +in the shelter of a dock or harbour, did not occur to us; they were obstructionists, +blocking our speedy passage with their warps and nets and gear. Although most +masters grudgingly steered clear, there were those in our ranks who elected +to hold on through the fleets, unconcerned by the confusion and risk to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +fishermen's gear that their passage would occasion. There were angry shouts +and protests; the gear and nets were often the sole property of the fishermen; +serious losses were sustained.</p> + +<p>At war, we have incurred debts. When peace comes and the seas are free +again, we shall have memories of what we owe to the fishermen in all the varied +services they have paid to us. The minesweepers toiling in the channels, that we +may not meet sudden death; patrols riding out bitter weather in the open +to warn us from danger, to succour and assist the remnants of our manning when +a blow goes home. War has purged us of many old arrogant ways. When next +we meet the fishing fleet at peaceful work in the channels, we shall recall the +emotion and relief with which we sighted their friendly little hulls bearing down +to protect us in a menaced seaway. We shall 'keep clear o' th' gear when th' +nets is down.'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-122.jpg" width="500" height="275" alt="SOUTHAMPTON WATER" title="" /> +<span class="caption">SOUTHAMPTON WATER</span> +</div> + +<h2>VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE RATE OF EXCHANGE</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>THE Bank of England official, who had been a close attendant on the bridge +during the early part of the voyage, seems now to be reassured. We +are nearing land again. Another day should see us safely berthed at +New York, where—his trust discharged—a pleasant interval should open to him +ere returning to England. The gold and securities on board are reason for his +passage; he is with us as our official witness, should the activity of an enemy +raider compel us to throw the millions overboard. Nothing has happened. The +'danger zone' has been passed without event. Stormy weather on the Grand +Banks has given way to light airs and a smooth sea as we steer in to make our +landfall.</div> + +<p>Together on the navigation bridge, we are discussing the shipment. ". . . +It is the exchange, Captain," he says. "The exchange is against us. These +huge war purchases in the States cannot be balanced by the moderate exports +we are able to send over. When we left Liverpool the sovereign was worth +four dollars, seventy-one cents in America. I don't know where it is going to +end. We can't make securities. There must be a lim——" Drumming of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +wireless telephone cuts in on his words. "Operator wishes to know if he can +leave the 'phones, sir? Says he has to see you."</p> + +<p>The bridge messenger turns aside inquiringly, holding out the receiver +of the telephone as a context to his words. The request, that would have +aroused an instant disquiet six days ago, now appears trivial and normal. +There may be receipts to be signed. Approaching port the operator will be +completing his accounts. We are unconcerned and resume our conversation +until he arrives.</p> + +<p>He is insistent that it cannot be due to atmospherics. "A queer business, +sir. Thought it best to report instead of telephoning. Some station addressing +a message to ABMV [all British merchant vessels], and another trying to jam it +out. Can't get more than the prefix, when jamming begins. No, not atmospherics. +I've taken ABMV, though distant, twice in this watch, and, looking +up the junior's jottings for the last watch, I see he had traces. Whatever is +jamming the message out is closer to us than the sender. I dunno what to make +of it!"</p> + +<p>"You mean that a message from a land station to us is being interfered with, +deliberately, from somewhere near at hand?"</p> + +<p>He produces the slip of his junior's scribbles. Among the jumble of noughts +and crosses, there is certainly a hastily scrawled ABMV, then x's and x's. "What +else, sir? At first I thought it was atmospherics—x's were fierce last watch—but +x's can't happen that way twice running!"</p> + +<p>"All right! Carry on again. Let me know at once if anything further. +Gear to be manned continuously from now on. Keep your junior at +hand."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a> +<img src="images/i-124.jpg" width="600" height="398" alt="'OUT-BOATS' IN A MERCHANTMAN" title="" /> +<span class="caption">'OUT-BOATS' IN A MERCHANTMAN</span> +</div> + +<p>A queer business! We trim the possibilities in our mind. It is now nearly +dark. As we go, we should make Nantucket Lightship at daybreak; our usual +landfall on the voyage. There is not much to work on. 'A message being sent, +and some one making unusual efforts to prevent receipt.' A raider? It is now +some months since <i>Kronprinz Wilhelm</i> was driven into Norfolk; she cannot +surely, have escaped internment. <i>Karlsruhe?</i> Nothing has been heard of her +for a long term. A submarine? Perhaps <i>Deutschland</i>, with his torpedo-tubes +refitted and a gun mounted? He knows the way; he could carry oil enough to +reach the coast, do a strafe, and sneak into a port for internment. . . . Figuring +on the chart, measuring distance and course and speed, it comes to us that +enemy action would best succeed off Nantucket or the Virginia Capes. We +resolve to cut in between the two, to make the land below Atlantic City, and take +advantage of territorial waters. If there is no serious intention behind the jamming +of the wireless, there will be no great harm done—we shall only lose ten<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +hours on the passage; if a raider is out, we shall, at least, be well off the expected +route. We pass the orders.</p> + +<p>A quiet night. We are steering into the afterglow of a brilliant sunset. +The mast and rigging stand out in clear black outline against lingering daylight +as we swing south four points. The look-out aloft turns from his post and scans +the wake curving to our sheer; anon, he wonders at the coming of a mate to +share his watch. Passengers, on a stroll, note unusual movement about the boat-deck, +where the hands are swinging out lifeboats and clearing the gear. As the +carpenter and his mates go the rounds, screwing blinds to the ports and darkening +ship, other passengers hurry up from below and join the groups on deck; an +excitement is quickly evident. They had thought all danger over when, in thirty +degrees west, we allowed them to discard the cumbersome life-jackets that they +had worn since leaving the Mersey. And now—almost on the threshold of +security and firm land—again the enervating restrictions and routine, the sinister +preparations, the atmosphere of sudden danger. Rumours and alarms fly from +lip to lip; we deem it best to publish that the wireless has heard the twitter of a +strange bird.</p> + +<p>Before midnight, the bird is identified. Our theories and conjectures are +set at rest. The operator, changing his wave-length suddenly from 600 to 300 +metres, succeeds in taking a message. '<i>From Bermuda</i>'—of all places—'<i>to +ABMV German armed submarine left Newport eighth stop take all precautions ends</i>.' +A submarine! And we had thought the limits of their activity stopped at +thirty degrees west. Even the Atlantic is not now broad enough! The definite +message serves to clear our doubts. A submarine from Newport will certainly +go down off Nantucket. Our course should now take us ninety miles south of +that. There remains the measure of his activity. A fighting submarine that +can navigate such a distance is new to us. His speed and armament are unknown. +We can hardly gauge his movements by standards of the types we know. +We are unarmed; our seventeen knots top speed may not be fast enough for an +unknown super-submarine. Crowded as we are by civilian passengers, we cannot +stand to gunfire. A hit will be sheer murder. It is a problem! We return to +the deck and make three figures of that ninety miles.</p> + +<p>The pulse of the ship beats high in the thrust and tremor of the engines, +now opened out to their utmost speed; the clean-cut bow wave breaks well +aft, shewing level and unhindered progress. In the calm weather, the whirl of +our black smoke hangs low astern, joining the sea and sky in a dense curtain; +we are prompted by it to a wish for misty weather when day breaks—to make a +good screen to our progress. Though dark, the night is clear. A weak moon +stands in the east, shedding sufficient light to brighten the lift. We overhaul<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +some west-bound vessels in our passage and warn them by signal. Two have +already taken Bermuda's message and are alert, but one has no wireless, and is +heading up across our course. We speak her; her lights go out quickly, and +she turns south after us.</p> + +<p>Daybreak comes with the thin vapours of settled weather that may turn to a +helpful haze under the warm sun. We zigzag in a wide S from the first grey +half-light, for we are now due south of the Lightship. In the smooth glassy +surface of the sea we have an aid to our best defence—the measure of our eyes. +We note a novel vigilance in the watchkeepers, a suppressed anxiety that was not +ours in the infinitely more dangerous waters of the channels. The unusual +circumstance of zigzagging and straining look-out for a periscope almost in +American waters has gripped us. Every speck of flotsam is scanned in apprehension. +The far-thrown curl of our displacement spitting on the eddy of the +zigzag, throws up a feather that calls for frequent scrutiny. We have no lack +of unofficial assistance in our look-out. From early morning, the passengers are +astir—each one entrammelled in a life-jacket that reminds them continually of +danger. For the children, it is a new game—a source of merriment—but their +elders are gravely concerned. Gazing constantly outboard and around, they add +eyes to our muster. Every hour that passes without event seems to increase the +tension; the size and numbers of enemy vessels grow with the day. A telegraph-cable +ship at work is hailed as 'a raider in sight'—a Boston sea-tug, towing +barges south, is taken for a supply-ship with submarines in tow.</p> + +<p>The wireless operator reports from time to time. The 'humming bird' +(whoever he is) has ceased jamming. The air is full of call and counter-call. +Halifax is working with an unknown sea-station—long messages in code. Coastal +stations are joined in the 'mix-up.' Cape Cod is offering normal 'traffic' to +the American steamer <i>St. Paul</i>, as though there was no word of anything happening +within reach of the radio. It is all very perplexing. Perhaps the Bermuda +message was a hoax; some 'neutral' youth on the coast may have been working +an unofficial outfit, as had been done before. Anon, an intercepted message +comes through. A Hollands steamer sends out '<i>S.O.S.</i>. . . <i>S.O.S.</i>. . .' +but gives no name or position. Then there is silence; nothing working, but +distant mutterings from Arlington.</p> + +<p>Throughout the day we swing through calm seas, shying at each crazy angle +of the zigzag in a turn that slows the measured beat of the engines. Night coming +and the haze growing in intensity, we use the lead—sounding at frequent +intervals—and note the lessening depth that leads us in to the land. At eight, +we reach six fathoms—the limit of American territorial waters. It is with +no disguised relief we turn north and steer a straight course.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> + +<p>Although now less concerned with the possibility of enemy interference, +we have anxiety enough in the navigation of a coastal area in hazy weather. +We reduce speed. The mist has deepened to a vapour that hangs low in the +direction of the shore. House lights glimmer here and there, but only by the lead +are we able to keep our distance. A glow of light over Atlantic City shews itself +mistily through a rift in the haze and gives an approximation of our latitude, +but it is Barnegat's quick-flashing lighthouse beam that establishes our confidence +and enables us to proceed at better speed. We shew no lights. For all we are in +American waters, we have not forgotten <i>Gulflight</i> and <i>Nebraskan</i> and other +international 'situations'; we look for no consideration from the enemy and +preserve a keen look-out. Vessels pass us in the night bound south with their +deck lights ablaze, but we stand on up the coast with not a glimmer to show our +presence. Turning wide out to the shoal-water off Navesink, we sight the pilot +steamer lying to. We switch on all lights and steer towards her.</p> + +<p>It is not often one finds the New York pilots unready, but our sudden arrival +has taken them aback. We have to wait. Daybreak is creeping in when the +yawl comes alongside with our man. He is an old Swedish-American whom we +had long suspected of pro-German leanings, but the relief and enthusiasm on his +honest old face is undisguised. "Gott! I am glat to see yo, Cabtin," he calls. +"Dere vas a rumour dat yo vas down too! Yoost now, ven yo signal de name +of de ship, I vas glat—glat!" He is full of his news; there are rumours and +rumours. 'The White Star mailboat is down,' 'a Prince liner is overdue,' +'there are fears for a Lamport and Holt boat.' In view of our safe arrival, he +is prepared to discount the rumours. What is certain is that U 53 has arrived +in these waters, and has already sunk six large ships off Nantucket.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A day later we turn to the commercial pages of the <i>New York Herald</i>. Our +arrival is reported, and it seems that the sovereign is now worth $4.72-1/16!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<h2>IX</h2> + +<h3>INDEPENDENT SAILINGS</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>UNTIL nearly three years of war had gone on, we sailed independently +as 'single' ships, setting our speeds and courses and conforming only +to the general route instructions of the Admiralty. The submarine +menace did not come upon us in a sudden intensity. Its operation was gradually +unfolded and counter-measures were as methodically advanced to meet it. The +earliest precaution took the form of a wide separation of the ships, branching +the sea-routes apart on the sound theory that submarines would have voyaging +to do to reach their victims. While this was a plan of value on the high seas, +it could not be pursued in the narrower waters of the channels. Destroyers in +sufficient numbers not being available to patrol these waters, fishing craft—trawlers +and drifters—were commissioned to that service. Being of moderate +speed, their activities were not devoted to a mass operation, by which they +could group the merchantmen together for protection. The custom was still +to separate them as widely as possible, each zigzagging on her own plan. Until +the convoy system was established, measures for our protection did not take the +form of naval escorts sailing in our company: such vessels were only provided +for transports or for ships on military service: vessels on commercial voyages +were largely left to their own resources when clear of harbour limits.</div> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 444px;"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a> +<img src="images/i-130.jpg" width="444" height="600" alt="FIREMEN STANDING BY TO RELIEVE THE WATCH" title="" /> +<span class="caption">FIREMEN STANDING BY TO RELIEVE THE WATCH</span> +</div> + +<p>That all sea-going vessels should carry a wireless installation was one of the +first measures enforced by Admiralty. The magnificent resources of the Marconi +Company, though strained, were equal to the task. There was a life-labour +alone in the technical education of their operators, but they drilled the essentials +of their practice into landward youths in a few months—blessed them with a +probationer's licence—and sent them to sea. It is idle to speculate on what we +could have done without this communication with the beach: it is inconceivable +that we could have served the sea as we have done. Throughout the length of +channel waters, we were constantly in visual touch with the patrols, but in the +more open seas we relied on the wireless to keep us informed of enemy activities. +At first, we were lavish in its use. The air was scored by messages—'back +chat' was indulged in by the operators. An <i>S.O.S.</i> (and they were frequent)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +was instant signal for a confusion of inquiries—a battery of call and counter +call—that often prevented the ready succour of a vessel in distress. We grew +wiser. We put a seal on the switch. Regulations came into force to restrain +unnecessary 'sparking'; we sat in to listen and record, and only to speak when +we were spoken to.</p> + +<p>Codes were issued by the Admiralty for use at sea. Their early cryptogram +was easily decoded by friend and enemy alike. Knowing that certain words +would assuredly be embodied in the text of a message (words such as, <i>from</i>—<i>latitude</i>—<i>report</i>—<i>submarine</i>—<i>master</i>), +it was not difficult to decipher a code +of alphabetical sequence. There were famous stories of traitors and spies, but +our authoritative simplicity was responsible for the occasional leakage of information. +At this date, 1915-16, wireless position-detectors came into use by the +enemy. A spark-group, repeated after an interval, could give a fair approximation +of distance and course and speed. More than ever it was necessary to +maintain silence when at sea. Withal, the air was still in strong voice. At +regular periods the great longshore radios threw out war warnings to guide us +in a choice of routes and warn us away from mined areas. Patrols and war craft +kept up an incessant, linking report. Distress signals hissed into the +atmosphere in urgent sibilance, then faltered and died away. On occasion, the +high note of a <i>Telefunken</i> set invited a revealing confidence that would lead us, +'chicky-chicky,' to the block. We were well served by Marconi.</p> + +<p>Extension of the power of enemy submarines brought new practice to our +seafaring. We had made the most of a passage by the land, steering so close +that the workers in the fields paused in their toil and waved us on; but the +new under-water craft crept in as close, and mined the fairways. We were +ordered to open sea again, to steer the shortest course by which we could reach a +depth of water that could not be mined. Zigzag progress now assumed the +importance that was ever its right. It had been but cursorily maintained. The +'shortest distance between two points' had, for so long, been our rule that +many masters were unwilling to steer in tangents. On passage in the more +open sea, they were soon converted to a belief in the efficacy of a crazy course. +Statistics of our losses proved the virtue of the tangent: of a group of six vessels +sunk in a certain area only one—a very slow vessel—was torpedoed while maintaining +a zigzag. Extracts from the diary of a captured submarine commander +were circulated among us, giving ground for our confidence, in the frequent +admissions of failure—"owing to a sudden and unexpected alteration of course."</p> + +<p>Still, we were unarmed. If, by zigzag and a keen look-out, we were fortunate +in evading torpedo attack, the submarine had by now mounted a surface armament, +and we were exposed to another equally deadly offence. For our protection,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +Admiralty placed a new type of warship on the routes approaching the +channels. Built originally for duty as minesweepers, the sloops were faster +and more heavily armed than the drifters. They patrolled in a chain of five or +six over the routes that we were instructed to use. During the daylight hours +we were rarely out of sight of one or other of the vessels forming the chain. Our +route orders were framed towards a definite point of departure into the high +seas when darkness came. There, the patrol of the sloops ended: we had the +hours of the night to make our offing and, by daybreak again, were assumed to +be clear of the 'danger zone.' But the 'danger zone' was being extended +swiftly; it was not always possible to traverse the area in the dark hours of a +night: only the fast liners could stretch out a speed that would serve. Profiting +by experience that was constantly growing, the <i>Reichsmarineamt</i> constructed +larger submarines capable of remaining long at sea, and of operating in ocean +areas that could not adequately be patrolled. Twelve, fifteen—then twenty +degrees of longitude marked their activity advancing to the westward: they +went south to thirty-five: in time the Mediterranean became a field for their +efforts. Gunfire being the least expensive, they relied on their deck armament +to destroy unarmed shipping. The patrols were but rarely in sight; +the submarine became a surface destroyer. There was no necessity for submergence +on the ocean routes: under-water tactics were held in reserve for use +against fast ships—the slower merchantmen were brought-to in a contest that +was wholly in favour of the U-boat. In a heavy Atlantic gale, <i>Cabotia</i> was sunk +by gunfire, 120 miles from land. She had not the speed to escape. Despite the +heavy seas that swept over the submarine and all but washed the gunner from +the deck, the enemy was able to keep up a galling fire that ultimately forced the +master to abandon his ship. <i>Virginia</i> was fired upon at midnight when steering +for the Cerigo Channel. Notwithstanding the courage of Captain Coverley, who +remained on board to the last, there could be but one end to the contest. <i>Virginia</i> +was sunk. A strong ship; the enemy had to expend two of his torpedoes to +destroy her.</p> + +<p>Against such attacks only one measure could be advocated—the measure +we had for so long been demanding. It was impossible to patrol adequately +all the areas of our voyaging. Guns were served to us and we derived a confidence +that the enemy quickly appreciated. We did not expect wholly to reduce his +surface action, but we could and did expose him to the risk he had come so far +out to sea to avoid. On countless occasions our new armament had effect in +keeping him to his depths, with the consequent waste of his mobile battery power. +Even in gun action he could no longer impose his own speed power on a slow +ship. Under conditions that he judged favourable to his gunnery, the submarine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +commander still exercised his ordnance—usually after a torpedo had failed to +reach its mark. Many of the hazards were against us, but our weapons brought +the contest to a less unequal balance. If we did present the larger target, we +had—in our steady emplacement—a better platform from which to direct our +fire. From the first it was a competition of range and calibre. Six-pounders +led to twelves; these in turn gave way to 4.7's. Anon, the enemy mounted +a heavier weapon, to which we replied by a new type of 4-inch, sighted to 13,000 +yards.</p> + +<p>Thus armed and equipped, we were in better condition to meet the enemy +in our independent sailings. He was again obliged largely to return to the use +of his torpedoes, with all the maze of under-water approach that that form of +attack involved. If outranged in a surface action, we had our smoke-producing +apparatus to set up a screen to his shell-fire, and that form of defence had the +added value of forcing him to proceed at a high and uneconomical speed to press +an attack. Some of our gun actions resulted in destruction of a sea-pest, but +all—however unsuccessful—contributed to lessen his power of offence. Every +torpedo fired, every hour of submergence, every knot of speed expended in a +chase, was so far a victory for us as to hasten the date when he would be obliged +to head back to his base. His chances of survival in that passage through the +patrols and the nets and mines could not be considered as good.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-135.jpg" width="500" height="371" alt="QUEEN'S DOCK, GLASGOW" title="" /> +<span class="caption">QUEEN'S DOCK, GLASGOW</span> +</div> + +<h2>X</h2> + +<h3>BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK</h3> + +<div class='center'> +"<i>All vessels are prohibited from approaching within four miles of Rathlin Island<br /> +between sunset and sunrise</i>"<br /><br /> +</div> + + +<div class='cap'>IN view of Admiralty instructions, we are 'proceeding as requisite'—turning +circles, dodging between Tor Point and Garron Head—and awaiting daybreak +to make a passage through Rathlin Sound. Steering south from +the Clyde, we had reached Skullmartin when the wireless halted us. Enemy +activity off the south coast of Ireland had become intensified, and all traffic +from west-coast ports was ordered to proceed through the North Channel. In +groups and singles, the ships from Liverpool and the Bristol Channel join us, +and we make a busy channel-way of the usually deserted coastal waters. We +show no lights, but the moon-ray reveals us, sharply defined, as we pass and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +repass on the lines of our courses. We keep well within the curve of the coast +until the light grows in the east, then turn finally to the north. The sun comes +up as we reach Fair Head, and we stand on towards the entrance of the Sound.</div> + +<p>In the first hour of official clearance, the North Channel is busy with the +traffic. Outside as well as within, ships have been gathering in anticipation of +Admiralty sunrise. The seaway over by the mainland shore is scored and lined +by passage of the inward-bound vessels, all pressing on at their best speed to +make their ports before nightfall. A strong ebb tide runs through, favouring +our company of outward-bounders. We swing past Rue Point in a rip and +whirl that gives the helmsman cause for concern, cross the bight of the Bay at +a speed our builders never contemplated, and round the west end of the Island +before the sun has risen high.</p> + +<p>It is fine weather in the Atlantic. Only the slight heave of an under-running +swell, and the rips and overfalls of the tide, mark the smooth surface of the sea: +the light north airs that come and go have no strength to ruffle the glassy patches. +Everything promises well for speedy progress. The engines are opened out to +their utmost capacity. Already we have drawn ahead of the press of shipping +that marked time with us on the other side of the channel. Our only peer, a +large Leyland liner, has opened out abeam of us and the whirl of black smoke +at his funnel-tip shows that he is prepared to make and keep the pace. 'To +proceed at such a time as to reach 56° 40' North, 11° West, by nightfall'—is +the reading of our new route orders. We shall have need of the favour of the +elements if we are to reel off 200 miles between now and 10 p.m. Anon, we pass +Oversay and the Rhynns of Islay and head for a horizon that has no blue mountain-line +to break the level thread of it. Our sea-mates of the morning are hull +down behind us—the slower vessels already turning west on the inner arms of +the fan formation that is devised to keep us widely separated in the 'danger +area.' Only the Leyland boat remains with us. We steer on a similar mean +course, but the angles of our independent zigzags make our progress irregular +in company. At times we sheer a mile or more apart, then close perceptibly +to crossing courses. She has perhaps the better speed, but her stoking is +irregular. Drawing ahead for a term, she shows us her broad sternwash in a +flurry of disturbed water; then comes the cleaning of the fires—we pull up and +regain a station on her beam.</p> + +<p>So, till afternoon, we keep in company—pressing through the calm seas at +a speed that augurs well for our timely arrival in 11° West. We sight few +vessels. A lone drifter on patrol speaks us and reports no enemy sighted in the +area: an auxiliary cruiser with a destroyer escorting her passes south on the +rim of the landward horizon. A drift of smoke astern of us hangs in the clear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +air, then resolves to a fast Cunarder that speedily overhauls and passes us. As +though impressed by the mail-boat's progress, our sea-mate puts a spurt on and +maintains a better speed than any she has shown since morning. She draws +ahead and we are left with clear water to exercise the cantrips of our zigzag.</p> + +<p>An <i>allo</i> is intercepted by the wireless in the dog-watch. (We have coined a +new word to report an enemy submarine in sight, a word that cannot offer a +key to our codes.) It comes from the Cunarder, now out of sight ahead. We +figure the radius on the chart, and bear off six points on a new course to keep +well clear of the area. The Leyland liner is by now well ahead and we note she +has turned to steer west. There is a slight difference in our courses and we +draw together again as we steam on. The wireless operator now reports that +a vessel near at hand has acknowledged the Cunarder's <i>allo</i>. Shortly a man-o'-war +sloop appears in sight and passes north at high speed, steering towards the +position we are avoiding.</p> + +<p>The second officer keeps a keen look-out. He has had bitter experience of +the power of an enemy submarine and is anxiously desirous that it should not +be repeated. A 'check' on the distant sea-line (that we had taken for the peak +of a drifter's mizen) draws his eye. He reports a submarine in sight—broad on +the port bow. The circle of our telescope shows the clean-cut horizon ruling a +thread on the monotint of sea and sky. Sweeping the round, a grey pinnacle +leaps into the field of view. It is over-distant for ready recognition. Only by +close scrutiny, observing a hair-line that rises and falls on either side of the grey +upstanding point, are we able to recognize our enemy. He is pressing on at full +speed, trusting to our casual look-out, that he may secure a favourable position +to submerge and attack. Our fine confidence with which we have anticipated +such a meeting gives place to a more sober mood. Though not yet in actual +danger, there is the former <i>allo</i> to be thought of—the possibilities of a combination. +Quick on recognition, we alter course, steering to the north again. The +gun, already manned, is brought to the 'ready,' and the intermittent crackle +of the wireless sends out an urgent warning. The Leyland steamer starts away +at first sight of our signals: ahead, grey smoke on the horizon marks where the +patrol sloop has gone hull-down.</p> + +<p>A spurt of flame throws out from the distant submarine. He has noted our +sudden alteration of course and knows that he has now no prospect of reaching +torpedo range unobserved. His shell falls short by about a thousand yards. +We reply immediately at our extreme elevation, but cannot reach him. The +next exchange is closer—he is evidently overhauling us at speed. Mindful of +our limited fifty rounds, we telephone to the gun-layer to reserve his fire until +he has better prospect of a hit. Two shots to our one; the enemy persists<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +though he does not now seem to be closing the range. Our seventh shot pitches +close to him, and ricochets. There is a burst of flame on his deck—whether +from his gun or the impact of our shell we shall never know; when the spume +and spray fall away he has dived.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, it is recalled to us that we have been, for over half an hour, steering +into the radius of the Cunarder's <i>allo</i>. The patrol sloop has turned to close us +and is rapidly approaching. A decision has quickly to be made. If we stand +on to keep outside torpedo range of our late antagonist, we may blunder into the +sights of number two. North and east and west are equally dangerous: we +may turn south-east, but our course is for the open sea. The sloop sheers round +our stern and thunders up alongside. Receiving our information, her helm goes +over and she swings out to investigate the area we have come from. We decide +to steer to the north-west as the shortest way to the open sea.</p> + +<p>We have the luck of the cast. As we ease helm to our new course, the ship +jars and vibrates—a thundering explosive report comes to our ears. The +Leyland liner close on our starboard quarter has taken a torpedo and lies over +under a cloud of spume and debris.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> + +<h2>XI</h2> + +<h3>ON SIGNALS AND WIRELESS</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>FOR war conditions our methods and practice of signalling were woefully +deficient. In sailing-ship days the code was good enough; we had no +need for Morse and semaphore. We had time to pick and choose our +signals and send them to the masthead in a gaudy show of reds and blues and +yellows. Our communications, in the main, were brief and stereotyped. "What +ship? Where from? How many days out? Where bound? Good-bye—a +pleasant passage!" Occasionally there was a reference to a coil of rope or +a tierce of beef, but these were garrulous fellows. The ensign was dipped. +We had 'spoken'; we would be reported 'all well!'</div> + +<p>Good enough! There were winches to clean and paint, bulwarks to be chipped +and scaled, that new poop 'dodger' to be cut and sewn. "Hurry up, there, +you sodgerin' young idlers! Put the damned flags in the locker, and get on +with the <i>work!</i> "</p> + +<p>With steam and speed and dispatch increasing, we found need for a quicker +and more instant form of signal correspondence. New queries and subjects +for report grew on us, and we had to clip and abbreviate and shorthand our +methods to meet the lessening flag-sight of a passing ship. We altered the +Code of Signals, adding vowels to our flag alphabet. We cut out phrases like +'topgallant studding sail boom' and 'main spencer sheet blocks,' and introduced +'fiddley gratings' and 'foo-foo valve.' Even with all our trimming, +the book was tiresome and inadequate. We began to fumble with Morse and +semaphore, with flashlights and wig-wags and hand-flags.</p> + +<p>We did it without a proper system. As a titbit to our other 'snippings,' +medicine, the Prayer Book, the law, ship's business, the breeches buoy, ship-cookery! +Fooling about with flags and tappers and that, was all very well for +the watch below, but there was <i>work</i> to be done—the binnacles to be polished, +the sacred <i>suji-mudji</i> to be slapped on and washed off!</p> + +<p>Hesitating and slipshod and inexact as we were, at least we made, of our +own volition, a start; a start that might, under proper and specialized direction, +have made an efficient and accurate addition to the sum of our sea-lore. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +we were wedded to titbits. Late on the tide, as usual, the Board of Trade +woke up to what was going on. They added a 'piece' to our lessons, without +thought or worry as to the provision of facilities for right instruction. We +crammed hard for a few days, fired our shot at the right moment, and forgot all +about it.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 242px;"> +<img src="images/i-140.jpg" width="242" height="400" alt="THE BRIDGE-BOY REPAIRING FLAGS" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE BRIDGE-BOY REPAIRING FLAGS</span> +</div> + +<p>Withal, in our own amending way, +we were enthusiastic. We learned the +trick of <i>Ak</i> and <i>Beer</i> and <i>Tok</i> and <i>Pip</i>. +We slapped messages at one another +(in the dog-watches), in many of which +a guess was as good a translation as any. +Our efforts received tolerating and +amused recognition from naval officers +(secure in possession of scores of highly +trained signal ratings). If we came, +by chance, across an affable British warship, +she would perhaps masthead an E +(exercise), to show that there was no ill-feeling. +Then was the time to turn out +our star man, usually the junior-est +officer, and set him up to show that we +were not such duffers, after all! Alas! +The handicaps that came against us! +The muddled backgrounds (camouflage, +as ever was!), the fatal backthought +to a guess at the last word! The +call and interfering counter-call from +reader to writer, and writer to reader, +and, finally, the sad admission—an +inevitable <i>Eye</i>, <i>emmer</i>, <i>eye</i> (I.M.I.—please repeat), when our scrawl and jumble +of conjectural letters would not make sense! We have yet a mortifying memory +of such an incident, in which a distant signalman spelt out to us, clearly and +distinctly, "<i>Do you speak English?</i>"</p> + +<p>Under the stress of war we have improved. Fear for the loss of important +information has spurred us to keener appreciation. If you promise not to +flirt the flags backhanded (a most damnably annoying habit of superior, <i>flic-flac</i> +Navy men) we can read you in at ten or twelve words a minute. For single-ship +work, that was good enough; if we had a press of signalling to attend, we could +make up for our busy time in leisurely intervals. But convoy altered that. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +the Naval Service a signalman has nothing whatever to do in the wide world but +attend to signals. It is his only job: a highly trained speciality. With us the +demands of ship work on our bare minimum crews do not allow of a duty signaller; +he must bear a hand with the rest to straighten out the day's work. In convoy, +with signals flying around like crows at the harvest, we found our way of it unworkable. +It resolved itself to what used to be called a 'grand rally' in pantomime—all +hands on the job, and the officer of the watch neglecting a keen look-out +to see that note of the message was kept properly.</p> + +<p>The naval authorities took counsel. The experiment had been a 'try on,' +in which they (with their large staff of special signalmen) had assessed our ability +as greater than their own! It was decided to train signalmen—R.N.V.R.—for +our service. Pending their formation and development, we were given skilled +assistance from the crews of our ocean escorts. But for our gun ratings, and +they mostly R.N.R., we had no experience of the regular Navy man in our muster. +He spun a bit, trimming the grass, before he found rest and a level. With us +only for a voyage, we did not get to know him very well, but in all he was competent +enough.</p> + +<p>One we had, from H.M.S. <i>Ber—Sharpset</i>, Private Henry Artful, R.M.L.I. +Drouthy, perhaps, but a good hand. At the end of sailing day, when the flags +were made up and stowed, he came on the bridge.</p> + +<p>"Fine night, sir!" We assented, curiously; democratic and all as we are, +it is rather unusual for our men to be so—so sociable. "Larst capt'in I wos with, +sir, 'e allus gimme a drink after th' flag wos stowed."</p> + +<p>We stared, incredulous. "What! Do you say the captain of <i>Sharpset</i> +gave you a drink when your work was done?" He started in affright. "Not +the capt'in o' <i>Sharpset</i>, sir! Oh no, sir!—Gawd!—No! Th' capt'in o' th' +larst merchant ship wot I wos signallin' in!"</p> + +<p>His horror, genuine and unconcealed, at our suggestion of such an unheard-of +transaction, gave illustration alike of the discipline in His Majesty's ships and, +sadly, the lack of it in ours.</p> + +<p>In time our quickly trained R.N.V.R.'s joined. They came from Crystal +Palace, these new shipmates. Clean fellows—smart. Bacon-curers, Cambridge +men, lawyers, shopmen, clerks, haberdashers—trimmed and able and willing to +carry on, and lacking only a little ship practice, and a turn of sea-legs, to fit them +for a gallant part in delivering the goods. With their coming we are introduced +to a line of longshore life that had escaped us. There is talk and ado of metropolitan +habits and styles, of 'Maudlen' and high life, of music scores, the latest +revue, the quips of the music-halls. ("When Pa—says—<i>turn</i>" is now the +correct aside, when Commodore gives executive for a new angle on the zigzag!)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> + +<p>At the first we were somewhat concerned at the apparent 'idleness' of our +signalman. He was on our books for but one employment—the business of +flags and signals. In intervals of his special duties he made an odd picture on +the bridge of a merchant ship—a man without a 'job.' The firemen, on deck to +trim ventilators, would take a peep at him as at some strange alien; seamen, +passing fore and aft on their reliefs, would nod confidently. "Still diggin' +wet sand, mate? . . . Wish I 'ad your job!" There were days when he was +busy enough—'windmilling' with the hand-flags, or passing hours in hoist and +rehoist when Commodore was sharpening the convoy to a precision in manœuvre, +but on open sea his day was not unduly crowded. There were odd hours of +'stand-by' under screen of the weather-cloth, intervals of leisure which he might +use as he liked, provided he kept a ready ear for the watch officer's call. Reading +was usual. In this his taste was catholic. <i>Tit-Bits</i> and <i>My Dream Novelettes</i> +found favour; one had back numbers of the <i>Surveyor and Municipal and County +Engineer</i>, old volumes of <i>Good Words</i> from the Bethel box found a way to the +bridge; we saw a pocket volume of Greek verse that belonged to the bold lad +who altered our signalled 'will' to 'shall'!</p> + +<p>For all his leisured occupation he was quick enough when the call of "<i>Signals</i>" +brought him to business. His concentration on the speciality of the flags +brought an accuracy to our somewhat haphazard system of signalling. We +benefited in more than his immediate work by promoting his instruction of our +young seamen. Spurred, perhaps, by the knowledge of our quondam haberdasher's +efficiency, the boys improved rapidly under his tuition. We paid +a modest bonus on results. We are looking forward. We shall not have our +duty signalman with us when there is 'peace bacon' to be cured.</p> + +<p>Another new shipmate who has signed with us is the wireless operator, the +lieutenant of Signor Marconi, our gallant <i>salvator</i> in the war at sea. If we may +claim for our sea-service a foremost place in national defence, it is only by grace +of our wireless we register a demand. Without it, we were undone. No other +system of communication would have served us in combat with the submarine; +<i>spurlos versenkt</i>, without possibility of discovery, would have been the triumph +of the enemy. If to one man we seamen owe a debt unpayable, Marconi holds +the bond.</p> + +<p>Unthinking, we did not accept our new shipmate with enthusiasm. Before +the war he could be found on the lordly liners, tapping out all sorts of messages, +from the picture-post-card-like greetings of extravagant passengers to the deathless +story of <i>Titanic</i> and <i>Volturno</i>. We looked upon him as a luxury, only suited +to the large passenger vessels. We could see no important work for him in the +cargo-carriers; we could get on very well without a telegraph to the beach.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +A week of war was sufficient to alter our views; we were anxious to have him +sign with us. Although he is now an important member of the crew, his reception +at first was none too cordial. The apparent ease and comfort of his office +rankled in contrast to the rigours of the bridge and the hardships of the engine-room. +His duties—specialized to one operation—we deemed unfairly light in +comparison with our jack-of-all-trades routine. In port, he was a lordling—no +man his master—able to come and go as the mood took him. Frankly, we were +jealous. Who was this to come among us with the airs of a full-blown officer, and +yet not a dog-watch at sea? Messed in the cabin too, and strutted about the +decks with his hands in his pockets, as bold and unconcerned as any first-class +passenger! We were puzzled to place him. He talked airily of ohms and static +leaks, ampere-hours and anchor-gaps, and yet, in an unguarded moment, had he +not told us of his experiences in a Manchester broker's office, that could have +been no more than six months ago? The airs of him! Absurd assumption of an +official confidence between the Old Man and himself, as if <i>he</i> had the weight of +the ship's safety on his narrow shoulders! As for his baby-brother assistant—that +kid with the rosy cheeks—everybody knows that all he does is to screw up +his 'jimmy fixin's' and sit down good and comfortable to read "The Rosary," +with his dam mufflers on his ears! <i>Huh!</i></p> + +<p>But we are wiser now! Here is a text for our conversion. It is a record +of a wireless conversation between a merchantman attacked and a British +destroyer steaming to her assistance from somewhere out of sight.</p> + +<p>"Are you torpedoed?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. . . . Shots in plenty hitting. Several wounded. Shrapnel, +I believe. Broken glass all round me."</p> + +<p>"Keep men below. Stick it, old man!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you bet. Say, the place stinks of gunpowder. Am lying on the +floor. . . . I have had to leave 'phones. My gear beginning to fly around +with concussion. . . . Captain is dead. . . ."—an interval—"Submarine has +dived! Submarine has dived!"</p> + +<p>Yes, we are wiser now! We admit him to full fellowship at sea. And on land, +too! We admit him the right to trip it in Kingsway or the Strand, with his kid +gloves, and his notebook, and his neat uniform, for his record has shown that +it does not require a four-years' apprenticeship to build up a stout heart; that +on his 'jimmy fixin's' and their proper working depends a large measure of +our safety; and if the crack does come and the air is thick with hurtling debris, +broken water and acrid smoke, our first look will be aloft to see if his aerial still +stands. We do him and baby brother the honour that we shall not concern +ourselves to wonder whether they be ready at their posts!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-144.jpg" width="500" height="365" alt="A TRANSPORT EMBARKING TROOPS FOR FRANCE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">A TRANSPORT EMBARKING TROOPS FOR FRANCE</span> +</div> + +<h2>XII</h2> + +<h3>TRANSPORT SERVICES</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>THE first State control of the merchants' ships began with the transports +employed to convey the Expeditionary Force to France in the early +days of August 1914. Vessels of all sizes and classes were commandeered +at the dockside to serve in the emergency. The comparatively short distance +across the channels did not call for elaborate preparation and refitment: the +times would admit of no delay. Ships on the point of sailing on their trading +voyages were held in dock, their cargo discharged in quantity to make space +for troops and their equipment. Lining-up on the quays and in the littered +dock-sheds, troops awaited the stoppage of unloading operations. With the +last sling of the 'tween-deck lading passed to the shore, they marched on board. +As the tide served, the vessels steamed out of dock and turned, away from their +normal routes, towards the coast of France.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></div> + +<p>To serve as ballast weight, the stowage of cargo in the lower holds was frequently +left in place for the term of the vessel's troop service. Months, perhaps a year +later, the merchandise arrived at its destination. Consignees would wonder at its +tardy delivery—they could see no record of its itinerary as shewn by the bills of +lading, unless they read into the fine prefix—'War: the King's Enemies: restraints +of Rulers and Princes'—the romance of its voyaging with the heroes of Mons.</p> + +<p>To transport the overseas troops from India and Canada and Australia, +different measures were necessary. The ships requisitioned for this service had +to be specially fitted for the longer voyage. The State was lavish and extravagant +under the sudden pressure of events. The many-handed control at the +ports made for an upheaval and dislocation of shipyard labour that did not +hasten the urgent dispatch of the vessels. The hysteria of the times gave excuse +for a squandering of valuable ship-tonnage that was without parallel. Large +liners, already fitted for carriage of passengers, were employed as prison and +internment ships. Curious situations arose in the disposal of others. At the +north end, a large vessel might suddenly be requisitioned and taken from her +trade—with all the consequent confusion and relay; by day and night the +work of fitting her would go on. South, a vessel of similar size and build might +be found, having her troop-fittings removed, in preparation for an ordinary +trading voyage. Still, if the end justifies the means, the ultimate results +were not without credit. The garrison troops from Malta and Egypt and +Gibraltar and South Africa were moved with a celerity that is unexampled; a +huge contingent from India was placed on the field in record time. A convoy +of thirty-one merchantmen brought Canadian arms to our assistance: Australians, +in thirty-six ships, crossed the Indian Ocean to take up station in Egypt. +The unsubsidized and singular enterprise of the merchants was proving its worth: +as vital to the success of our cause as the great war fleet, the merchants' ships +aided to stem the onrush in France and Flanders.</p> + +<p>Considerations of economy followed upon the excited measures with which +the first transport of available troops was effected. In the period of training +and preparation for the long offensive, the Transport Department had opportunity +to organize their work on less stressful lines. It was well that there was +breathing-space at this juncture. Enemy interference, that had so far been +almost wholly a surface threat to our communications, grew rapidly to a serious +menace from under water. The engagement and organization of naval protection +underwent an immediate revisal. Heavily armed cruisers and battleships could +afford little protection against the activity of the German submarines, now at +large in waters that we had thought were overdistant for their peculiar manœuvres. +Destroyers and swift light craft were needed to sail with the transports.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>The landing at Gallipoli, under the guns of the enemy, was a triumph for +the Transport Service. In the organization and disposal of the ships, the control +and undertaking that placed them in sufficient numbers in condition for their +desperate venture, the Department redeemed any earlier miscalculations. The +efficient service of the merchant masters and seamen was equally notable. +Under heavy fire from the batteries on shore they carried out the instructions +given to them in a manner that was "astonishingly accurate" and impressed +even the firebrands of the naval service. Strange duties fell to the merchant +seamen on that day. Compelled by the heavy draught of their ships to remain +passive spectators of the deeds of heroism on the beach, they saw ". . . whole +groups swept down like corn before a reaper, and to realize that among these +groups were men who only a short time before had bid us good-bye with a smile +on their lips, was a bitter experience.</p> + +<p>"Our vessel was used to re-embark the wounded, and we stood close inshore +to make the work of boating them off less hazardous. We had three +doctors on board, but no nurses or orderlies, and the wounded were being brought +on board in hundreds, so it was a relief to us to doff our coats and lend a hand. +We had to bury the dead in batches; officers and men were consigned to the +deep together. On one occasion the number was exceptional, and the captain +broke down while reading the service. . . ." It was surely a bond of real brotherhood +that brought the shattered remnants of the complement she had landed +earlier in the day to meet their last discharge at the hands of the troopship's +seamen—their committal to the deep at the broken words of the vessel's master.</p> + +<p>While the transport of troops in the Channel and the narrow seas was not, +at any time, seriously interfered with, the movements of the larger ocean transports +were not conducted without loss. <i>Royal Edward</i> was the first transport +to be torpedoed. She went down with the sacrifice of over a thousand lives. +The power of the submarine had been over-lightly estimated by the authorities: +measures of protection were inadequate. Improved U-boats were, by now, +operating in the Mediterranean, and their commanders had quickly acquired +a confidence in their power. More destroyers were required to escort the troopships.</p> + +<p>By a rearrangement of forces a more efficient measure of naval protection +was assured. Although the provision of a swift escort did not always prevent +the destruction of ships, the loss of life on the occasion of the sinking of a +transport was sensibly reduced by the presence of accompanying destroyers. +The skill and high gallantry of their commanders was largely instrumental in +averting complete and terrible disaster. As the numbers of ships were reduced +by enemy action there came the need to pack the remaining vessels to a point<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +of overloading. Boat equipment on the ships could not be other than inadequate +when the certified complement of passengers was exceeded by 100 per cent. +In any case, the havoc of a torpedo left little time to put the huge numbers of +men afloat. With no thought of their own hazard—bringing up alongside a +torpedoed vessel and abandoning the safeguard of their speed and manœuvring +power—the destroyer men accepted all risks in an effort to bring at least the +manning of their charge to port.</p> + +<p>Every casualty added grim experience to the sum of our resources in avoiding +a great death-roll. Life-belts that we had thought efficient were proved faulty +of adjustment and were condemned: methods of boat-lowering were altered +to meet the danger of a sudden list: the run of gangway and passage to the +life-apparatus was cleared of impediment. When on a passage every precaution +that could be taken towards a ready alert was insisted upon. Despite the manly +grumbling of the very young military officers on board, certain irksome regulations +were enforced. Life-belts had to be worn continuously; troops were only +allowed below decks at stated hours; systems of drill, constantly carried through, +left little leisure for the officers and men. Although no formal drill can wholly +meet the abnormal circumstances of the new sea-casualty, we left nothing undone +to prepare for eventualities. That our efforts were not useless was evident +from the comparatively small loss of life that has resulted from late transport +disasters.</p> + +<p>The system of escort varies largely in the different seas. Homeward from +Canada and, latterly, from the United States the troopships are formed in large +convoys under the ocean escort of a cruiser. On arrival at a position in the +Atlantic within working distance of the destroyers' range of steaming, the convoy +is met by a flotilla of fast destroyers who escort the ships to port. For transport +work in the Mediterranean no such arrangement could be operated. Every +sea-mile of the great expanse is equally a danger zone. Usually, vessels of +moderate speed are accompanied by sloops or armed drifters, but the fast troopships +require destroyers for their protection. The long courses call for relays, +as the destroyers cannot carry sufficient fuel. Marseilles to Malta, Malta to +Suda Bay, Suda Bay to Salonika—a familiar voyage of three stages—required +the services of no less than five destroyers. The numbers of our escorting craft +were limited: it called for keen foresight on the part of the Naval Staff and +unwearying sea-service on that of the war craft to fit their resources to our +demands.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a> +<img src="images/i-148.jpg" width="600" height="394" alt="TRANSPORTS IN SOUTHAMPTON DOCKS" title="" /> +<span class="caption">TRANSPORTS IN SOUTHAMPTON DOCKS</span> +</div> + +<p>In the narrow seas, with the patrols more numerous and closely linked, the +short-voyage transports proceed on a time-table of sailings that keeps them +constantly in touch with armed assistance. The vessels are mostly of light<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +draught and high speed. Whilom railway and pleasure craft, they make their +voyages with the exactitude of the rail-connections they served in the peaceful +days. Although many of them are built and maintained (and certificated by +the Board of Trade) for smooth-water limits only, the emergency of the times +has given opportunity of proof that their seaworthy qualities are underestimated +by the authorities. The high gales and dangerous short seas of the Channel +are no deterrent to their voyages; under the pressure of the continual call for +reinforcements on the Western Front, and serving the line of route from England +to the Continent, to Marseilles and beyond, they stand no hindrance. They +are specially the objects of enemy attention. Their high speed and rapid turning +power enables them to run moderately free of torpedo attack—though the +attempts to sink them by this weapon are frequent enough—but in the German +sea-mines they have a menace that cannot so readily be evaded. Many have +fallen victims to this danger, but the ready succour of the patrols has prevented +heavy loss of life. Though armed for defence, they have not had many opportunities +for gun action. Their keen stems are weapon enough, as Captain Keith +considered when he drove <i>Queen Alexandra</i> at full speed into an enemy submarine, +sinking him, and nipping a piece of his shorn hull for trophy.</p> + +<p>Southampton is the principal base for the smaller transports. Large vessels—the +<i>Olympic</i> and her sisters—come and go from the port, but it is by the quick +turns of the smaller vessels that the huge traffic of the base is cleared. Tramping +through the streets of the ancient town to turn in at the dock gates, company +after company of troops file down the quayside to embark on the great adventure. +The small craft are berthed at the seaward end of the docks, and the drifting +white feathers at their funnel-tips marks steam up in readiness for departure. +The drab-grey of their hulls and decks is quickly lined by ochre tint of khaki +uniforms. There is no halt to the long lines of marching men, save on the turn +of the stream to another gangway. By long practice, the Naval Transport Staff +and the embarkation officers have brought their duties to a finished routine. +There is not here the muster, the enumeration, the interminable long-drawn +march and counter-march on the wharf-side, that is the case with the larger +ocean transports. Crossing the gangway, carrying pack and equipment, the +troops settle down on the decks in a closely packed mass.</p> + +<p>Anon, with no undue advertisement, the transports unmoor from the quay +and steam down Southampton Water. Off St. Helens, the night covers them +and they steal out swiftly on the Channel crossing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><br />INTERLUDE</h3> + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">But</span> for the flat-topped dwellings, the domes and minarets, of the town that +stands in the alluvial valley, Suda Bay is not unlike a Highland loch in its loneliness +and rugged grandeur. The high surrounding mountains, the lofty snow-capped +summit of Psiloriti standing up in the east, the bare hill-side sloping to +the water with no wooded country to break the expanse of rock and heath, the +lone roadway by the fringe of the sea that leads to the wilds, are all in likeness to +the prospect of a remote Sutherland landscape. The darkling shadows on the +water, the play of sun and cloud on the distant uplands, completes the picture; +sheep on the hill-side set up plaintive calls that echo over the Bay.</div> + +<p>The heavy westerly gale that was reason for our being signalled in from sea +has blown itself out, and the water of the Bay stands still and placid. All that +is left of the furious squalls of yesterday has not strength to keep us wind-rode +in the anchorage, and we cast about to the vagaries of the drift.</p> + +<p>We were bound down from Salonika to Marseilles when ordered in. We +had expected to meet the relieving escort of destroyers at the Cerigo Channel, +but the bad weather had prevented them from proceeding at any but a slow +speed, and there was no prospect of their arrival at the rendezvous. So we +turned south to seek protection behind the booms at Suda Bay. We are a +packed ship. The shortage of transports has had effect in crowding the vessels +in service to a point far beyond the limits of their accommodation. We have +had to institute a watch-and-watch system among our huge complement. While +a proportion are seeking rest below, others crowd the upper decks, passing the +time as best they may until their turn of the hammocks comes round.</p> + +<p>The fine weather after the late gale has brought every one on deck. The +doings of the ships in the anchorage have interest for the landsmen. Naval +cutters and whalers are out under oars for exercise, and thrash up and down the +Bay with the long steady sweep of practised rowers. Our escort of two destroyers +arrives—their funnels white-crusted from the heavy weather they have experienced +on passage from Malta. They engage the flagship with signals, then steam +alongside an oiler to take fuel for the return voyage. A message from the senior +officer is signalled to us to have steam raised, to proceed to sea at midnight.</p> + +<p>Standing in from the Gateway, a British submarine comes up the Bay. She +moves slowly, as though looking for the least uncomfortable berth in the anchorage. +The oil-ship, having already the two destroyers alongside, cannot offer +her a place: she will have to lie off and await her turn. We put a signal on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +her, inviting her people to tie up alongside and come stretch their legs on our +broad decks. Instant compliance. She turns on a long curve, rounds our stern, +and her wires are passed on board.</p> + +<p>The commander of the submarine gazes about curiously as he comes on +board. He confesses that he has had no intimate acquaintance with merchants' +ships. The huge number of our passengers impresses him, accustomed as he is +to the small manning of his own vessel. Standing on the navigation bridge, we +look out over the decks below at the khaki-clad assembly. The ship seems +brimming over with life and animation. There is no corner but has its group +of soldiers. They are everywhere; in the rigging, astride the derricks, over the +top of boats and rafts they are stretched out to the sun. Mess-cooks with their +gear push their way through the crowds; there is constant movement—the +men from aft barging forward, the fore-end troops blocking the gangways as +they saunter aft. Noisy! Snatches of song, hails, and shouts—the interminable +games of 'ouse with '<i>Clikety-clik</i> and <i>blind-forty</i>' resounding in the many local +dialects of the varied troops. High in spirit! We are the leave-ship, and they +are bound home for a long-desired furlough after the deadly monotony of trench-keeping +on the Doiran Front.</p> + +<p>"Gad! What a crowd," he says. "I had no idea you carried so many. +They look so big—and so awkward in a ship. Of course, on a battleship we +muster a lot o' men, twelve hundred in the big 'uns, but—somehow—one never +sees them about the decks unless at divisions or that. Perhaps it's khaki does +it; one gets accustomed to blue in a ship."</p> + +<p>A 'diversion' has been arranged for the afternoon. Dinner over, all troops +are mustered to a boat drill that includes the lowering of the boats. Since +leaving Salonika there has been no such opportunity as now offers. Despite +foreknowledge of the time of assembly it is a long proceeding. Our complement +is made up of small details—a handful of men from every battalion on the Front. +Officers set to their control are drawn from as many varied branches of the +service. The valued personal 'grip' of non-commissioned officers is not at our +disposal. There is no such order and discipline as would be the case if we were +manned by complete battalions. The routine of military movements seems dull +and lifeless at sea, however efficient it may prove on land. We are long on +the job.</p> + +<p>By dint of check and repetition the grouping of the men at their boat stations +is brought to a moderate proficiency. The seamen at the boats swing out and +lower, and we set the boats afloat, each with a full complement of troops. +Embarked, and left to their own resources—with only one ship's rating to +steer—the men make a better show. The division of the mass into smaller<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +bodies induces a rivalry and spirit of competition: they swing the oars sturdily +and make progress to and fro on the calm water of the Bay.</p> + +<p>With the boats away full-loaded, we take stock of the numbers still mustered +on the deck. Considerably reduced, they are still a host. The boat deck, the +forecastle head, the poop—are all lined over by the waiting men: the empty +boat-chocks and the dangling falls inspire a mood of disquiet. Standing at +ease, they seem to be facing towards the bridge. Doubtless they are wondering +what we think of it all. The submarine's commander has been with us at our +station during the muster. We look at one another—thoughtfully.</p> + + +<h3><br />'THE MAN-O'-WAR 'S 'ER 'USBAND'</h3> + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">A sense</span> of security is difficult of definition. Largely, it is founded upon habit +and association. It is induced and maintained by familiar surroundings. On +board ship, in a small world of our own, we seem to be contained by the boundaries +of the bulwarks, to be sailing beyond the influences of the land and of +other ships. The sea is the same we have known for so long. Every item of +our ship fitment—the trim arrangement of the decks, the set and rake of mast +and funnel, even the furnishings of our cabins—has the power of impressing a +stable feeling of custom, normal ship life, safety. It requires an effort of thought +to recall that in their homely presence we are endangered. Relating his experiences +after having been mined and his ship sunk, a master confided that the +point that impressed him most deeply was when he went to his room for the +confidential papers and saw the cabin exactly in everyday aspect—his longshore +clothes suspended from the hooks, his umbrella standing in a corner as +he had placed it on coming aboard.</div> + +<p>Soldiers on service are denied this aid to assurance. Unlike us, they cannot +carry their home with them to the battlefield. All their scenes and surroundings +are novel; they may only draw a reliance and comfort from the familiar +presence of their comrades. At sea in a ship there is a yet greater incitement +to their disquiet. The movement, the limitless sea, the distance from the land, +cannot be ignored. The atmosphere that is so familiar and comforting to us, +is to many of them an environment of dread possibilities.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a> +<img src="images/i-154.jpg" width="450" height="600" alt="THE LEVIATHAN DOCKING AT LIVERPOOL" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE <i>LEVIATHAN</i> DOCKING AT LIVERPOOL</span> +</div> + +<p>It is with some small measure of this sense of security—tempered by our +knowledge of enemy activity in these waters—we pace the bridge. Anxiety is +not wholly absent. Some hours past, we saw small flotsam that may have come +from the decks of a French mail steamer, torpedoed three days ago. The passing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +of the derelict fittings aroused some disquiet, but the steady routine of our +progress and the constant friendly presence of familiar surroundings has effect +in allaying immediate fears. The rounds of the bridge go on—the writing of +the log, the tapping of the glass, the small measures that mark the passing of +our sea-hours. Two days out from Marseilles—and all well! In another two +days we should be approaching the Canal, and then—to be clear of 'submarine +waters' for a term. Fine weather! A light wind and sea accompany us for +the present, but the filmy glare of the sun, now low, and a backward movement +of the glass foretells a break ere long. We are steaming at high speed to make +the most of the smooth sea. Ahead, on each bow, our two escorting destroyers +conform to the angles of our zigzag—spurring out and swerving with the peculiar +'thrown-around' movement of their class. Look-out is alert and in numbers. +Added to the watch of the ship's crew, military signallers are posted; the boats +swung outboard have each a party of troops on guard.</p> + +<p>An alarmed cry from aloft—a half-uttered order to the steersman—an +explosion, low down in the bowels of the ship, that sets her reeling in her stride!</p> + +<p>The upthrow comes swiftly on the moment of impact. Hatches, coal, +shattered debris, a huge column of solid water go skyward in a hurtling mass to +fall in torrent on the bridge. Part of a human body strikes the awning spars +and hangs—watch-keepers are borne to the deck by the weight of water—the +steersman falls limply over the wheel with blood pouring from a gash on his +forehead. . . . Then silence for a stunned half-minute, with only the thrust of +the engines marking the heart-beats of the stricken ship.</p> + +<p>Uproar! Most of our men are young recruits: they have been but two +days on the sea. The torpedo has gone hard home at the very weakest hour +of our calculated drill. The troops are at their evening meal when the blow +comes, the explosion killing many outright. We had counted on a proportion +of the troops being on the deck, a steadying number to balance the sudden rush +from below that we foresaw in emergency. Hurrying from the mess-decks as +enjoined, the quick movement gathers way and intensity: the decks become +jammed by the pressure, the gangways and passages are blocked in the struggle. +There is the making of a panic—tuned by their outcry, "<i>God!</i> <i>O God!</i> <i>O +Christ!</i>" The swelling murmur is neither excited nor agonized—rather the +dull, hopeless expression of despair.</p> + +<p>The officer commanding troops has come on the bridge at the first alarm. +His juniors have opportunity to take their stations before the struggling mass +reaches to the boats. The impossibility of getting among the men on the lower +decks makes the military officers' efforts to restore confidence difficult. They +are aided from an unexpected quarter. The bridge-boy makes unofficial use<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +of our megaphone. "Hey! Steady up you men doon therr," he shouts. +"Ye'll no' dae ony guid fur yersels croodin' th' ledders!"</p> + +<p>We could not have done it as well. The lad is plainly in sight to the crowd +on the decks. A small boy, undersized. "Steady up doon therr!" The effect +is instant. Noise there still is, but the movement is arrested.</p> + +<p>The engines are stopped—we are now beyond range of a second torpedo—and +steam thunders in exhaust, making our efforts to control movements by +voice impossible. At the moment of the impact the destroyers have swung +round and are casting here and there like hounds on the scent: the dull explosion +of a depth-charge—then another, rouses a fierce hope that we are not unavenged. +The force of the explosion has broken connections to the wireless room, but the +aerial still holds and, when a measure of order on the boat-deck allows, we send +a message of our peril broadcast. There is no doubt in our mind of the outcome. +Our bows, drooping visibly, tell that we shall not float long. We have +nearly three thousand on board. There are boats for sixteen hundred—then +rafts. Boats—rafts—and the glass is falling at a rate that shows bad weather +over the western horizon!</p> + +<p>Our drill, that provided for lowering the boats with only half-complements +in them, will not serve. We pass orders to lower away in any condition, however +overcrowded. The way is off the ship, and it is with some apprehension we +watch the packed boats that drop away from the davit heads. The shrill ring +of the block-sheaves indicates a tension that is not far from breaking-point. +Many of the life-boats reach the water safely with their heavy burdens, but the +strain on the tackles—far beyond their working load—is too great for all to +stand to it. Two boats go down by the run. The men in them are thrown +violently to the water, where they float in the wash and shattered planking. +A third dangles from the after fall, having shot her manning out at parting of +the forward tackle. Lowered by the stern, she rights, disengages, and drifts +aft with the men clinging to the life-lines. We can make no attempt to reach +the men in the water. Their life-belts are sufficient to keep them afloat: the +ship is going down rapidly by the head, and there remains the second line of +boats to be hoisted and swung over. The chief officer, pausing in his quick +work, looks to the bridge inquiringly, as though to ask, "How long?" The +fingers of two hands suffice to mark our estimate.</p> + +<p>The decks are now angled to the deepening pitch of the bows. Pumps are +utterly inadequate to make impression on the swift inflow. The chief engineer +comes to the bridge with a hopeless report. It is only a question of time. How +long? Already the water is lapping at a level of the foredeck. Troops massed +there and on the forecastle-head are apprehensive: it is indeed a wonder that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +their officers have held them for so long. The commanding officer sets example +by a cool nonchalance that we envy. Posted with us on the bridge, his quick +eyes note the flood surging in the pent 'tween-decks below, from which his men +have removed the few wounded. The dead are left to the sea.</p> + +<p>Help comes as we had expected it would. Leaving <i>Nemesis</i> to steam fast +circles round the sinking ship, <i>Rifleman</i> swings in and brings up alongside at +the forward end. Even in our fear and anxiety and distress, we cannot but +admire the precision of the destroyer captain's manœuvre—the skilful avoidance +of our crowded life-boats and the men in the water—the sudden stoppage of her +way and the cant that brings her to a standstill at the lip of our brimming decks. +The troops who have stood so well to orders have their reward in an easy leap +to safety. Quickly the foredeck is cleared. <i>Rifleman</i> spurts ahead in a rush +that sets the surrounding life-boats to eddy in her wash. She takes up the +circling high-speed patrol and allows her sister ship to swing in and embark a +number of our men.</p> + +<p>It is when the most of the life-boats are gone we realize fully the gallant +service of the destroyers. There remain the rafts, but many of these have been +launched over to aid the struggling men in the water. Half an hour has passed +since we were struck—thirty minutes of frantic endeavour to debark our men—yet +still the decks are thronged by a packed mass that seems but little reduced. +The coming of the destroyers alters the outlook. <i>Rifleman's</i> action has taken +over six hundred. A sensible clearance! <i>Nemesis</i> swings in with the precision +of an express, and the thud and clatter of the troops jumping to her deck sets +up a continuous drumming note of deliverance. Alert and confident, the naval +men accept the great risks of their position. The ship's bows are entered to +the water at a steep incline. Every minute the balance is weighing, casting her +stern high in the air. The bulkheads are by now taking place of keel and bearing +the huge weight of her on the water. At any moment she may go without +a warning, to crash into the light hull of the destroyer and bear her down. For +all the circling watch of her sister ship, the submarine—if still he lives—may +get in a shot at the standing target. It is with a deep relief we signal the captain +to bear off. Her decks are jammed to the limit. She can carry no more. +<i>Nemesis</i> lists heavily under her burdened decks as she goes ahead and clears.</p> + +<p>Forty minutes! The zigzag clock in the wheelhouse goes on ringing the +angles of time and course as though we were yet under helm and speed. For +a short term we have noted that the ship appears to have reached a point of +arrest in her foundering droop. She remains upright as she has been since +righting herself after the first inrush of water. Like the lady she always was, +she has added no fearsome list to the sum of our distress. The familiar bridge,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +on which so many of our safe sea-days have been spent, is canted at an angle +that makes foothold uneasy. She cannot remain for long afloat. The end will +come swiftly, without warning—a sudden rupture of the bulkhead that is sustaining +her weight. We are not now many left on board. Striving and wrenching +to man-handle the only remaining boat—rendered idle for want of the tackles +that have parted on service of its twin—we succeed in pointing her outboard, +and await a further deepening of the bows ere launching her. Of the military, +the officer commanding, some few of his juniors, a group of other ranks, stand by. +The senior officers of the ship, a muster of seamen, a few stewards, are banded +with us at the last. We expect no further service of the destroyers. The position +of the ship is over-menacing to any approach. They have all they can carry. +Steaming at a short distance they have the appearance of being heavily overloaded; +each has a staggering list and lies low in the water under their deck +encumbrance. We have only the hazard of a quick out-throw of the remaining +boat and the chances of a grip on floating wreckage to count upon.</p> + +<p>On a sudden swift sheer, <i>Rifleman</i> takes the risk. Unheeding our warning +hail, she steams across the bows and backs at a high speed: her rounded stern +jars on our hull plates, a whaler and the davits catch on a projection and give +with the ring of buckling steel—she turns on the throw of the propellors and +closes aboard with a resounding impact that sets her living deck-load to stagger.</p> + +<p>We lose no time. Scrambling down the life-ropes, our small company +endeavours to get foothold on her decks. The destroyer widens off at the +rebound, but by clutch of friendly hands the men are dragged aboard. One +fails to reach safety. A soldier loses grip and goes to the water. The chief +officer follows him. Tired and unstrung as he must be by the devoted labours +of the last half-hour, he is in no condition to effect a rescue. A sudden deep +rumble from within the sinking ship warns the destroyer captain to go ahead. +We are given no chance to aid our shipmates: the propellors tear the water in +a furious race that sweeps them away, and we draw off swiftly from the side of +the ship.</p> + +<p>We are little more than clear of the settling fore-end when the last buoyant +breath of <i>Cameronia</i> is overcome. Nobly she has held afloat to the debarking +of the last man. There is no further life in her. Evenly, steadily, as we had +seen her leave the launching ways at Meadowside, she goes down.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-160.jpg" width="500" height="350" alt="SALVAGE VESSELS OFF YARMOUTH, ISLE OF WIGHT" title="" /> +<span class="caption">SALVAGE VESSELS OFF YARMOUTH, ISLE OF WIGHT</span> +</div> + +<h2>XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE SALVAGE SECTION</h3> + + +<h3><br />THE TIDEMASTERS</h3> + +<div class='cap'>IF Royal Canute, King of England and Denmark, with his train of servile +earls and thanes, could revisit the scene of his famous object-lesson, he would +learn a new value in the tide. Suitably, he might improve his homily by +presentation of the salvage tidemasters, harnessing the rise and fall of the stubborn +element to serve their needs and heave a foundered vessel to sight and +service. He would note the cunning guidance of strain and effort, their exact +timing of the ruled and ordered habits of the sea. As a moral, he could quote +that, if tide may not be ordered to command, it can at least be governed and +impressed to performance of a mighty service.</div> + +<p>Recovery of ships, their gear and cargo, is no longer wholly an application<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +of practised seamanship. The task is burdened and complicated by powers +and conditions that call for auxiliary arts. It is true that the salvage officer's +ground, his main asset, is the knowledge and ability to do a seamanlike 'job o' +work' when the time and tide are opportune; he must have a seaman's training +in the ways of the wind and the sea and be able properly to assess the weather +conditions under which alone his precarious work is possible. A scientist of +a liberal and versatile type (not perhaps exhaustive in his scope and range), +he is able to draw the quantum of his needs from a wide and varied summary. +Together with his medical exemplar, he has developed a technique from +crude remedies and imperfect diagnoses to application of fine science. He +must have a sure knowledge of the anatomy of his great steel patients, be +versed in the infinite variety and intricacy of ship construction, and the valves +and arteries of their power; be able to pen and plan his formulæ for weight-lifting—the +stress and strain of it, down to the calibre of the weakest link. +A super-tidesman, he must know to an inch the run of bottom, the swirl and +eddy, the value of flood and ebb and springs, for the tide—Canute's immutable +recalcitrant—is his greatest assistant, a familiar <i>Genius maris</i> whom he +conjures from the deeps of ocean to do his bidding. Shrewd! He is a +keen student of the psychology of the distressed mariner; again, like the +medical man, he must set himself to extract truth from the tale that +is told. His treatment must be prescribed, not to meet a case as presented, +but as his skilled knowledge of the probabilities warrants. Tactful, +if he is to meet with assistance in his difficult work, he must assume the +sympathy of one seaman to another in distress. What, after all, does it +matter if he agree heartily that "the touch was very light, we were going +dead slow," when, from his divers' reports, he knows that the whole bottom +is 'up'?</p> + +<p>In the handling of his own men there must be a combination of rigour and +reason. Salvage crews are a hardy, tempestuous race who have no ordinary +regard for the niceties of law and order; their work is no scheduled and defined +occupation with states and margins; they are servants to tide and weather alone; +they are embarked on a venture, on a hazard, a lottery. To such men, administering, +under his direction, the heroic but destructive remedies of high explosive +and compressed air, there cannot be a normal allowance for the economic use +of gear and material. He must know the right and judicial discount to be made +that will meet the conflicting demands of the expenses department and the +results committee. Above all, he must be of an infinite patience, of the +mettle that is not readily discouraged. In the great game of seafaring his +hand holds the king of disappointment and the knaves of frustration and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +discouragement. But he has other cards; he holds an ace in stability and +determination.</p> + +<p>Calm days and smooth seas may lure him to surpassing effort, to work through +the tides in feverish energy, making the most of favoured opportunity. The +scattered and interrupted work of months has perhaps been geared and bound, the +tackle rigged and set for a final dead lift. Buoyancy is figured out and assured; +the pumps are in place, throbbing and droning out, throwing steady streams +from the weight of water that so long has held the foundered wreck in depth. +The work has been long and trying, but an end to difficulty is in sight. Given +a day or two of continued fine weather, the sea and the rocks will have to +surrender their prisoner.</p> + +<p>Comes a darkling to windward and the sea stirs uneasily; jets and spurts of +broken water appear over the teeth and spit of rocky ledges. The salvors look +around with calculating eyes and note the signs of a weather break. Still, there +is no slackening of effort; there may be time to complete the work before the +sea rises to interfere; if anything, the omens only call for another spur to the +flank, a new sting to the lash.</p> + +<p>Beaten to the knees, the gear and tackle swaying perilously in breaking seas, +the lifting-barges thundering at their curbs, the pumps groaning and protesting +their inability to overcome the lap of blue water, there is no alternative but to +abandon the work and return to harbour. From the beach the salvage officer +may watch his labour of weeks—or months—savagely undone in an hour or two +of storm and fury of the sea!</p> + +<p>It is a great catalogue, that schedule of virtues and accomplishments. To +it must be added, as a supplement, that he must be a 'made' man—made in a +long hard pupilage in a stern school that appraises strictly on results. It is of +little use to show that, in theory, a certain course was right and proper, when +the broad but damning fact remains that the property is still in Davy Jones his +locker, and likely—there to remain. Many are called, but few are chosen. +The salvage service has no room for the merely mediocre officer: the right man +goes inevitably to his proper place, the wrong one goes back to a junior, and less +responsible, post at sea.</p> + +<p>It is doubtful if the Naval Service could produce the type required. Their +candidate would be, to a degree, inelastic. He would be an excellent theorist, +a sound executant, a strict disciplinarian; but his training and ideas would fit ill +to the wide range of conflicting interests, and the shutting out of all manœuvre, +however skilled and stimulating—but that of securing a maximum of result +by a minimum of effort. Perhaps it was for these reasons our salvage services +before the war were almost wholly mercantile and commercial. Certainly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +most Admiralty efforts in this direction were confined to ports and harbours +where method could be ordered and controlled by routine; their more arduous +and unmanageable cases on the littoral were frequently handed over to the merchantmen—not +seldom after naval efforts had been unavailing. Among the +protestations of our good faith to the world in time of peace, it may be cited +that we made no serious provision for a succession of maritime casualties; there +was no specially organized and equipped Naval Salvage Service. True, there +were the harbour gear, divers, a pump or two, and appliances and craft for +attending submarine accidents, but their energies were bent largely to humane +purposes—to marine first aid. Of major gear and a trained personnel to control +equipment and operation there was not even a nucleus. Salvage was valued at +a modest section of the "Manual on Seamanship" (written by a mercantile +expert), and a very occasional lecture at the Naval College. At war, and the toll +of maritime disaster rising, the need grew quickly for expert and special service. +There was no longer a relative and profitable balance to be struck between value +of sea-property and cost of salvage operations. A ship had become beyond +mere money valuation; as well assess the air we breathe in terms of finance. No +cost was high if a keel could be added to our mercantile fleets in one minute +less than the time the builders would take to construct a new vessel. The call +was for competent ship-surgeons who could front-rank our maritime C Threes. +By whatever skill and daring and exercise of seamanship, the wrecks must be +returned to service. Happily, there was no necessity to go far afield; the merchants' +salvage enterprise, like the merchants' ships and the merchants' men, +was ready at hand for adoption.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a> +<img src="images/i-164.jpg" width="600" height="424" alt="IN A SALVAGE VESSEL: OVERHAULING THE INSULATION OF THE POWER LEADS" title="" /> +<span class="caption">IN A SALVAGE VESSEL: OVERHAULING THE INSULATION OF THE POWER LEADS</span> +</div> + +<p>The Salvage Section, Admiralty, is a dignified caption and has an almost +imperial address, but, camouflages and all, it is not difficult to see the hem of +old sea-worn garments of our mercantile companies peeping out below the gold +braid. If in peace-time they did wonders, war has made their greatest and +most successful efforts seem but minor actions compared to their present-day +victories. The practice and experience gained in quick succession of 'cases' +has tuned up their operations to the highest pitch of efficiency. New and +more powerful appliances have come to their hands; a skilled and technical +directorate has liberated initiative. Strandings, torpedo or mine damage, +fire, collisions—frequently a compound of two or three—or all five—provide +them with occasion for every shift of ingenuity, every turn of resource. +There is no stint to the gear, and no limits to invention, or device, if +there is a possibility of a damaged ship being brought to the dry docks. Is +it not on record that an obstinate, stranded ship, driven high on the beach, +was finally relaunched on the crest of an artificially created 'spring' tide,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +the wash and suction of a high-speed destroyer, plying and circling in the +shallows?</p> + +<p>Many new perils are added to the risks and hazards of their normally dangerous +work. Casualties that call for their service are rarely located in safe and +protected waters; open coast and main channels are the marches of the Salvage +Section, where the enemy has a keen and ready eye for a 'potting' shot by +which he may prevent succour of a previous victim. The menace of sea-mines +is particularly theirs; the run and swirl of Channel tides has strength to weigh +a stealthy mooring and carry a power of destruction up stream and down. They +have a new and deadly danger to be guarded against in the ammunition and +armament of their stricken wards. Many have gone down at 'action stations,' +and carry 'hair-sprung' explosive charges, the exact condition and activity +of which are usually a matter for conjecture. It calls for a courage of no ordinary +measure to grope and stumble under water amid shattered wreckage for the safety-clutch +of the charges, or grapple in the mud and litter for torpedo firing-levers. +This the pioneer of the divers must do, as the first and most important of his +duties.</p> + +<p>With skill enhanced by constant and encouraged practice, they set out to +bind the wounds and raise our damaged ships to a further lease of sea-activity. +So definite and sure are their methods, so skilled and rapid their execution, they +steam ahead of reconstruction and crowd the waiting-room at the dry-dock +gates. Lined up at the anchorage awaiting their turn, the recovered vessels +may be crippled and bent, and showing torsion and distress in the list, and +staggering trim with which they swing flood and ebb. They may rest, halting, +on the inshore shallow flats, but, laid by for a term of repair, their day is to +come again. The Salvage Section has reclaimed their rent and stranded hulls +from the misty sea-Front; the Repair Section, working day and night, will +hammer and bind and reframe the gaps of their steel; the Sea Section will take +them out on the old stormy road, sound and seaworthy, with the flag at the +peak once more.</p> + + +<h3><br />A DAY ON THE SHOALS</h3> + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">The</span> rigger was engaged at second tucks of a five-inch wire-splicing job, and +hardly looked in the direction we indicated. "Them," he said. "Them's +crocks wot we don't want nothin' more t' do with! Two on 'em's got frozen +mutton. High? Excelsi-bloody-or! . . . an' that feller as is down by th' 'ead—Gawd! +'e don't 'arf smell 'orrible!" A pause, while he hammered down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +the strands and found fault with his assistant, gave us time to disentangle the +negatives of his opening. "Grain, she 'as—an' of all th' ruddy messes wot I +ever see—she gets it! We 'ad four days at 'er—out there 'n th' Padrig Flats, +an' she sickened nigh all 'ands! . . . Now we're well quit o' 'er, an' th' longshore +gangs is unloadin' th' bulk, in nosebags an' gas 'elmets, t' get 'er a-trim for th' +dry dock!"</div> + +<p>As we passed alee of the grain-carrier there was no doubt of the truth of the +rigger's assurance. Steam-pumps on her fore-deck were forcing a sickly mixture +of liquid batter through hoses to a barge alongside, and the overpowering stench +of the mess blew down to us and set eyes and noses quickening with instant +nausea. The men on the barges were garbed in odd headgear, high cowls with +staring circular eyepieces, and each carried a knapsack cylinder on his back. +Clouds of high-pressure steam from the winches and pumps threw out in exhaust, +and the hooded, ghost-like figures of the labourers passed and repassed in drifts +of white vapour. To the hiss and rumble of machines, clamour of block-sheaves +and chain and piston joined action to make a setting of <i>Inferno</i>, the scene might +well be imagery for a stage of unholy rites.</p> + +<p>Past her, we turned to the clean salt breeze again and stood on to the open +sea. The salvage officer, a Commander, R.N.R., joined us at the rail. "What +about that now? Sa—lubrious?" he said.</p> + +<p>We wondered how men could be got to work in such an atmosphere, how it +was possible to handle such foul-smelling litter in the confined holds.</p> + +<p>"Oh! We go through that all right. A bit inconvenient and troublesome, +perhaps, working in a restricting gas-rig; but now, the chemists have come to +our assistance and we can sweeten things up by a dose of anti-stink. . . . But +you won't see that to-day. Our 'bird' has got no cargo, only clean stone +ballast—a soft job."</p> + +<p>The 'soft job' had had a rough time, a combination and chapter of sea and +war hazard. Inward bound from the United States with a big cargo, a German +torpedo had found a mark on her. She settled quickly by the stern, but the +undamaged engines worked her gallantly into a small seaport where she brought +up with her main deck awash. There she was lightened of her precious load, +temporary baulks and patches were clamped and bolted to her riven shell-plate, +and she set off again on a short coastwise voyage to the nearest port where definite +and satisfactory repair could be effected. Off the Heads, the enemy again got +sights on her. Crippled, and steaming at slow speed to ease strain on the bulkheads, +she made a 'sitting' target for a second torpedo, that shattered rudder +and stern-post and sheared the propellor from the shaft.</p> + +<p>"We came on her just before dark," said the commander. . . . "Some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +of the crew were in the boats, close by, but the captain and a Trinity pilot and +others were still aboard. She was down astern to the counter and up forward +like a ruddy unicorn. We got fast and started to tow. Tow?—Might as well +have taken on the Tower Bridge. There was no way of steering her, and a +strong breeze from the south'ard blew her head down against all we could do. . . . Anyway, +we hung on, and at daylight in the morning the wind let up on +us a bit, and we guided her drift—that's about all we could do—inshore, till +she took the bottom on good ground a little north of the Westmark Shoal. We +filled her up forrard as the weather was looking bad—a good weight of water +to steady her through a gale. She's lain out there for two months now. We've +had a turn or two at her occasionally—shoring up the after bulkheads and that, +while we had weather chances. <i>Titan</i> has been out at her since yesterday morning. . . . It +looks good and healthy now." He cast an eye around appreciatively +at the calm sea and quiet sky, the gorse-banked cliffs dimmed by a promising +summer haze, at seagulls lazily drifting on the tide or becking and bowing +in the glassy ripples of our wash. "Good and healthy; I like to see these old +'shellbacks' sitting low and not shrilling overhead with all sail set. . . . If +this weather holds I shouldn't wonder if we get the old bus afloat on high tide +to-day!"</p> + +<p>Clear of harbour limits and heading out to the shoals, a brisk rigging of gear +and tackle brings action to the decks of the salvage steamer. Already we had +thought the narrow confines from bulwark to bulwark congested by the bulk +of appliances, but, from hole and corner and cunning stowage, further coils and +shoots and lengths of flexible, armoured hose are dragged and placed in readiness +for operations. Derricks are topped up and purchases rove for handling the +heavy twelve-inch motor-pumps. Hawsers are uncovered and coiled clear, stout +fenders thrown over in preparation for a grind alongside the wreck. Mindful +of possibilities, the engineer-lieutenant and his artificers go over the insulation +of their power leads in minute search for a leak in the cables that may occasion +a short circuit later on. The terminals and couplings are buffed and polished +with what seems exaggerated and needless precision—but this is salvage, +where sustained effort is only possible in the rare and all-too-brief union of +favourable tide and weather conditions. A cessation of the steady throw of the +pumps, however instant and skilful the adjustment, may mean the loss of just +that finite measure in buoyancy that could spring the weight of thousands in +tons. Second chances are rarely given by a grudging and jealous sea; there +must be no hitch in the gear, no halt in weighing the mass.</p> + +<p>A drift of lazy smoke on the sea-rim ahead marks our rendezvous, where +<i>Titan</i> and a sisterly tug-boat are already at work on the wreck. A screen of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +motor-patrols are rounding and lining out in the offing, with a thrust of white +foam astern that shows their speed. Coastwise, a convoy of merchant ships +zigzag in confusing angles on their way to sea, guarded by spurring destroyers +and trawler escort. Seaplanes are out, hawking with swoop and wheel for sight +of strange fish. The seascape is busy with a shipping that must remind the +coastguard and lightkeepers of old and palmy days when square sail was standard +at sea. The Westmark Shoal lies some distance from the normal peace-time +track of direct steaming courses. It lies in the bight of a bay, where rarely +steamers closed the land. Sailing ships, close-hauled and working a tack inshore, +or fisher craft on their grounds, had long been the only keels to sheer +water in the deeps, but war practice has renewed our acquaintance with many +old sea-routes and by-paths, and we are back now to charts and courses that +have long been out of our reckoning.</p> + +<p>The tide is at low-water slack, and whirls and eddies mark the run over shallows. +At easy speed and handing the lead, we approach the wreck. Her +weathered hull, gilt and red-rusted by exposure to sun and wind and sea, stands +high and bold against the deep blue of a summer sky. Masts and rigging and +cordage are bleached white, like tracery of a phantom ship. The green sea-growth +on her underbody fans and waves in the tide, showing long voyaging in the crust +and stage of it. She lies well and steadily, with only a slight list to seaward that +marks the gradient on which she rests. Through fracture on the stern and counter, +the twisted and shattered frames and beams and angles can be seen plainly. +Sunlight, in slanting rays, shines through the rents and fissures of the upper +deck, and plays on the free flood that washes in and out of the exposed after +hold; seaweed and flotsam surges on the tide, clinging to the jagged, shattered +edges of the plating, and breaking away to lap in the dark recesses. To eyes +that only know the lines and mould of sightly, seaworthy vessels, she seems a +hopeless and distorted mass of standing iron—a sheer hulk, indeed, fit only for +a lone sea-perch to gull and gannet and cormorant. It appears idle for the salvors +to plan and strive and wrestle for such a prize, but their keen eyes are +focused to values not readily apparent. "A fine ship," says the commander, +now happily assured that his 'soft job' has suffered no worse than a weathering +on the ledge that his skill has secured her. "A job o' work for the repairers, +certainly . . . but they will set her up as good as new in a third of the time +it would take to build a substitute!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a> +<img src="images/i-170.jpg" width="600" height="465" alt="A TORPEDOED MERCHANTMAN ON THE SHOALS: SALVAGE OFFICERS MAKING A SURVEY" title="" /> +<span class="caption">A TORPEDOED MERCHANTMAN ON THE SHOALS: SALVAGE OFFICERS MAKING A SURVEY</span> +</div> + +<p>We anchor at a length or two to seaward. There is not yet water alongside +for our draught, but <i>Titan</i>, drawing less, is berthed at her stern and their men +are taking advantage of low water to pin and tomp and strengthen the rearmost +bulkhead that must now do duty for the demolished stern section. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +boat from <i>Titan</i> brings the officer in charge, and he greets his senior with no +disguised relief. A serious leak has developed in one of the compartments that +they had counted on for buoyancy. . . . "Right under the bilge, and ungetatable, +with all that rubble in th' holds. A good job you brought out these extra +pumps. We should manage now, all right!"</p> + +<p>Technical measures are discussed and a plan of operations agreed. At half-flood +there will be water for us alongside, and a 'lift' can be tried. Number +one hold is good and tight, but still has a bulk of water to steady her on the +ledge; number two is clear and buoyant; three has the obstinate leak; the +engine-room is undamaged, but water makes through in moderate quantity. +Number four—"the bulkhead is bulged in like the bilge of a cask, but that cement +we put down last week has set pretty well, and the struts and braces should hold." +Number five? There is no number five, most of it lies on deep bottom off the +Heads, some miles away!</p> + +<p>With his colleague, the commander puts off to the wreck, to assess the prospects, +and we have opportunity to note the inboard trim of her derelict posts +and quarters. Davits, swung outboard as when the last of her crew left her, +stand up in unfamiliar dejection, the frayed ends and bights of the boat-falls +dangling overside and thrumming on the rusty hull. The boat-deck shows +haste and urgency in the litter of spars and tackle thrown violently aside: a +seaman's bag with sodden pitiful rags of apparel lies awry on the skids, marking +some cool and forethinking mariner denied a passage for his goods. Living-rooms +and crew quarters show the indications of sudden call, in open desks—a +book or two cast side, quick-thrown bedspreads, an array of clothing on a line; +the range-guards in the cook's galley have caught the tilt of pots and mess-<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'kids'">kits</ins> +as they slid alee in the grounding. The bridge, with chart and wheelhouse +open to the wind and spray, and sea-gear adrift and disordered, strikes +the most desolating note in the abandon of it all. Tenantless and quiet, the same +scene would be commonplace and understood in dock or harbour, with neighbourly +shore structures to point a reason for absence of ship-life, but out here—the +clear horizon of an open sea in view around, with vessels passing on their +courses, the desertion of the main post seems final and complete, with no navigator +at the guides and no hand at the wheel.</p> + +<p>The flood tide making over the shoals sets in with a <i>thrussh</i> of broken water +alee of the wreck. The salvors' cutter, from which the mate is sounding and +marking bottom, spins in widening circles in the eddies and shows the strength +of early springs. As yet the stream binds the wreck hard to the bank, setting +broad on from seaward, but relief will come when the spent water turns east +on the last of the flood. Survey completed, the salvage officers clamber to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +deck again. The leak in number three is their only concern; if that can be overcome, +there seems no bar to a successful programme. The commander questions +the mate as to the depth of water alongside, is assured of draught, and signals +his vessel to heave up and come on. The strength and onrush of the tidal race +makes the manœuvre difficult, and it is on second attempt, with a wide sweep +and backing on plane of the current, she drives unhandily to position. The +impact of her boarding, for all the guardian fenders, jars and stirs the wreck, +but brings a confident look to the salvors' faces; as readily shaken as that, they +assure themselves the responding hull will come off with 'a bit of a pinch' +on the angle of withdrawal that they have planned on the tidal chart.</p> + +<p>With hawsers and warps barely fast, the great pumps are hove up in air +and swung over the hatchway of the doubtful hold. But for the general order +to carry on, there are few directions and little admonition. Every man of the +busy group of mechanics and riggers has 'a brick for the wall,' and the wriggling +lengths of armoured hose are coupled and launched over the coamings as quickly +as the massive motors are lowered. Foundering with splash and gurgle, like +uncouth sea-monsters in their appanage of tortuous rubber tentacles, the sheen +of their polished bulk looms through the green translucent flood of solid seawater, +the grave and surely augmented tide that they are trimmed to master. +Again, the seeming hopelessness of the task, the handicap of man against element, +presents a doubt to one's mind. Two shell-like casings of steel, a line of +piping and cab-tyre coils for power leads—to compete with the infiltration of +an ocean; there are even small fish darting in the flood of it, a radiating Medusa +floats in and out the weltering 'tween-decks, waving loathsome feelers as though +in mockery of human efforts!</p> + +<p>Like a war-whoop to the onslaught the dynamos of the salvage vessel start +motion, and hum in <i>crescendo</i> to a high tenor tone; the vibrations of their +speed and cycle are joined in conduct to the empty hull of the wreck, and she +quickens with a throb and stir as of her arteries coursing. There is no preparatory +trickle at outboard end of the hose ejections; with a rush and roar, a clean, +solid flood pours over, an uninterrupted cascade at seven tons from each per +minute!</p> + +<p>The carpenter sounds the depth with rod and chalked lanyard, then lowers +a tethered float to water-level of the flooded compartment. In this way he +sets a starting mark for the competition, a gauge for the throw of the pumps. +In interest with the issue, the salvage men gather round the hatchway, and all +eyes are turned to the bobbing cork disc to note the progress of the contest. +Stirring and drifting to slack of the line, the float seems serenely indifferent to +its important motion; wayward and buoyant, it trims, this way and that, then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +steadies suddenly on a taut restraint; slowly it seems to rise in the water as +though drawn by an invisible hand. It spins a little to lay of the cord, then hangs, +moisture dropping and forming rings on the glassy surface of the well! By +no seeming effort but the pulse-like quiver of the hose, the level falls away. A +bolt-head on the plating shows under water, then tips an upper edge above; +a minute later the round is exposed and drying in a slant of the sun.</p> + +<p>The tense regard with which we have scanned the guide-mark gives way +to jest and relief when it is seen that drainage is assured; a facetious mechanic +at the hose-end makes motions as of pulling a bar handle to draw a foaming +glass. "Sop it up, old sport!" says the rigger, patting the pipes. "Sop it up +an' spit! Ol' Neptune ain't arf thusty!"</p> + +<p>During our engagement, <i>Titan</i> has not been idle. There remains only an +hour or two of flood tide and much has to be done. Leaving steam-pumps to +cope with the more moderate leakage at the after section, she has hauled forward +on the rising tide on the shoal side of the wreck. At the bows she has +applied suction to the prisoned water in the fore holds, and a new stream pours +overside in foaming ejection. The roar and throb of her power motors adds +further volume and vibration to the rousing treatment by which the nerves of +the stranded hulk seem braced. Stirred by the new life on her, the old ship +may well forget she has no stern and only part a bottom. Already the decks, +gaunt and red-rusted as they are, take on a cheering look of service and animation. +The seamen in the rigging and workmen crowded round the hatchways +might be the dockers boarded for a day's work on the loading, and only the +thunder of the motors and crash of the sluicing torrent remain foreign to a normal +ship-day.</p> + +<p>The sun has gone west when the tidal current surging past shows a change +in direction. We throw sightly flotsam overboard and note the drift that +takes the refuse astern. No longer the green slimy plates of the hull show above +water, the tide has lapped their sea-growth and ripples high on a cleaner surface. +With high water approaching we draw near the point of balance in buoyancy, +and the salving tenders tighten up headfasts and stern ropes in readiness for a +slip or drag. The sea-tug that has till now been a quiet partner in operations, +smokes up and backs in astern to pass a hawser to the wreck. She drops away +with a good scope, and lies handy to tow at orders.</p> + +<p>Tirelessly, droning and throbbing with insistent monotony, the pumps continue +their labour and draw the weight of water that holds the wreck down. At +number three hold the flood below is no longer a still and placid well. The +penned and mastered water seethes and whirls in impotent fury at the suction +that draws and churns only to expel. Some solid matter, seaweed perhaps,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +has drifted to the leak and stems a volume of the incoming water; there seems +a prospect that a single pump may keep the level.</p> + +<p>In somewhat tense expectancy, we await a crisis in the operations. There +is a feeling that all these masterly movements should lead to a spectacular +resurrection—a stir and tremor in the frame of her, reviving sea-throes, a lurch, +a list, a mighty heave, and a staggering relaunch to the deeps.</p> + +<p>Precise and businesslike, modern salvage avoids such a flourishing end to +their labours. As skilful surgeons, they object strongly to excitement. Their +frail and tortured sea-patients can rarely stand more than gentle suasion. +As surely as the tide they work by, the factors of weight and displacement and +trim have been figured and calculated. . . . The commander draws our attention +to a quiet and steady rise in the bows, the knightheads perceptibly edging +nearer to a wisp of standing cloud. Without a jar or surge the wreck becomes a +floating ship; she lists a little, as the towing hawser creaks and strains, and we +draw off gently to seaward.</p> + + +<h3><br />THE DRY DOCK</h3> + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">A downpour</span> of steady, insistent rain makes quagmire of the paths on the +dockside, and the half-light of a cheerless early morning gives little guidance to +progress among the raffle of discarded ship-gear that lies about the yard. Stumbling +over shores and stagings, skirting gaunt mounds of damaged plates and +angles, we reach the sea-gate where the ship victims of mine and torpedo are +moored in readiness for treatment in the great sea-hospital. In the uncertain +light and under wet lowering skies, they make a dismal picture. The symmetry +of conventional docking—ships moored in line and heading in the same direction—that +is an orderly feature of the harbours, is not possible in the overcrowded +basin. There is need to pack the vessels closely. They lie at awkward angles, +the stern of one overhanging the bows of another. Masts and funnels and deck +erections, upstanding at varied rakes, emphasize the confused berthing and draw +the eye to the condition of the mass of damaged shipping. Not all of the vessels +are shattered hulks. A number are here for hull-cleaning or overhaul, but their +high sides with the rust and barnacles and weedy green scum, make as drab a +feature in the combination as the listed hulls of the cripples.</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a> +<img src="images/i-176.jpg" width="600" height="428" alt="A TORPEDOED SHIP IN DRY DOCK" title="" /> +<span class="caption">A TORPEDOED SHIP IN DRY DOCK</span> +</div> + +<p>Though nominally daylight, the arc-lamps of the pier-head still splutter +in wet contacts and spread a sickly glow over the oilskin-clad group of dockmen +and officials gathered to enter the ships. A chill breeze from the sea blows in +and carries reek and cinder of north-country coal to thicken the lash of the rain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +The waft comes from heeling dock tugs that strain at their hawsers, spurring +the muddy tide to froth in their task of moving the helpless vessels in the basin. +The long expanse of flooded dock, brimming to the uppermost ledge, lies open +for their entry; the bruised and shattered stern of a large ship is pointed over +the sill at an awkward angle that marks an absence of steam-power aboard +to control her wayward sheer. The dockmaster, in ill mood with her cantrips, +roars admonition and appeal to the smoking tugs to "lie over t' s'uth'ard and +right her!" By check, and the powerful heave of a shore capstan, she warps in +and straightens to the line of the docks. As she draws on to her berth the high +bows of a second cripple swing over from the tiers, and the tugs back out to +fasten on and drag her to the gate.</p> + +<p>With entry of the ships, the glistening pier-head becomes thronged by tidesmen +and their gear; like a drill-yard, with the lusty stamp of the marching +lines of dockmen trailing heavy hawsers and handing check and hauling ropes. +In an hour or so the gangs of the ship-repair section will be ready to 'turn to' +at the new jobs, and the ships must be settled and ready against the wail of +the starting 'buzzer.' Shrill whistle signals, orders and hails add to the stir +of the labourers, and clatter of the warping capstan joins in with ready chorus. +Not least of the medley is the bull roar of the harassed dockmaster, who finds a +need in the press for more than one pair of hands at the reins to guide and halt +his tandem charges.</p> + +<p>The ships are marked in company, to settle bow to stern, with no room to +spare, in the length of the dock. Conduct must be ruled in duplicate to exact +the full measure of utility from every foot of space. On the last tide a pair of +sound ships were floated out to service, braced and bound and refitted for further +duty as stout obverse to the 'Sure Shield.' Keel-blocks and beds for the new +patients have been set up and rearranged in the brief interval of occupancy, +and now, quick on the wash of the outgoers, are new cases for the shearing +plate-cutters and the swing of hammers.</p> + +<p>Mindful to conserve their precious dry-dock space to the limit of good service, +the repair section select the vessels with rare judgment. It is no haphazard +turn of the wheel that brings an American freighter, shattered in stern section, +to the same operating-table as an east-coast tramp (having her engines in scrap, +boilers fractured, and the frames of her midships blown to sea-bottom). The +combined measure of their length and the similarity of extent in hull damage +has brought them to the one line of blocks. Odd cases, and regular ship-cleaning +and minor repairs may be allotted to single-ship dry docks, but +here, in sea-hospital with a twin-berth, there is a need for parallel treatment. +The two ships must be considered as one, and all efforts be promoted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +towards refloating them, when hull repairs are completed, on one opening of the +sea-gate.</p> + +<p>In this, strangely, they are assisted by the enemy. True, his accommodation +could well be spared, but it does have an influence on repair procedure. The +exact and uniformly graded proportions of the enemy explosive reproduces a +correspondingly like extent and nature in ship damage. Location and sea-trim +may vary the fractures in proportion to resistance but, with the vessels on the +blocks together, working time may be adjusted to these conditions and a balance +be struck that will further a simultaneous completion.</p> + +<p>So the dockmaster ranges his pair on the centre line of the keel-blocks, sets +tight the hawsers that hold them in position, and bars the sea-entry with a massive +caisson. Presently he passes an order to the pumpman, and the power-house +echoes to the easy thrust of his giant engine.</p> + +<p>The keel-blocks have been set to meet the general lines of the vessels, with +only a marginal allowance for the contour of damaged plating. To remedy +any error divers, with their gear and escort, are ready on the dockside, and they +go below with first fall in the water-level. The carpenters straggle out from +sheltered corners and bear a hand. Riggers and dockmen have placed the +ships, and it remains for the 'tradesmen' to bed them down and prop against +a list by shores and blocks. They are ill content with the vile weather and +their job in the open, where the rain lashes down pitilessly, soaking their +working clothes. Doubtless they envy the dry divers their suits of proofed +rubber, when they are called on to manhandle the heavy timber shores from the +mud and litter of the dockside and launch them out towards the steel sides of +the settling vessels. There the tide-workers on deck secure them by lanyards, +and the spars hang in even order, sighted on doublings of the plates, ready to +pin the ships on a steady keel when the water drains away.</p> + +<p>With the timbers held in place, the carpenters split up to small parties and +stand by to set a further locking strain by prise of block and wedge. The dockmaster +blows a whistle signal at the far end of the basin, and casts up his hand as +though arresting movement; the thrust of the main pump stills, and he swings +his arm. At the sign, the carpenters ram home . . . the thunder of their forehammers +on the hardwood wedges rings out in chorus that draws a quavering +echo from the empty, hard-pressed hulls.</p> + +<p>Settled and bedded and pinned, the ships are left till the water drains away +and to await the coming of the shipwrights and repairing gangs. The carpenters +shoulder their long-handled top-mauls and scatter to a shelter from the steady, +continuous downpour. Up from the floors with their work completed, the divers +doff their heavy head-gear and sit a while, <i>resting</i> comfortably under the thrash<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +of the same persistent rain. Anon, their awkward garb discarded, they walk +off, striding with a crook at the knees, like farmer folk on ploughed land. The +great pumps now pulsate at full speed, drawing water to their sluices in an +eddying current that spins the flotsam and bares ledge after ledge of the solid +dock masonry. From gaping wounds of the crippled vessels a full tide of seawater +gushes and spurts to join the troubled wash below. The beams and side-planking, +and temporary measures of the salvage section, uncover and come to +sight, showing with what patience and laborious care the divers have striven +to stem an inrush.</p> + +<p>On the second ship the receding water-line exposes the damage to her engine- +and boiler-rooms. A litter of coal and oily scum showers from angles of the +wrecked bunker and stokehold to the floor of the dock, and leaves the fractured +beams and tubes to stand out in gaunt twist and deformity. Through the +breaches the shattered cylinders and broken columns of the engines lie distorted +in a piled raffle of wrenched pipe sections, valves and levers, footplates, skeleton +ladders, and shafting. The mass of distorted metal has still a shine and token +of polish, and these signs of late care and attention only serve to make the ruin +seem the more complete and irremediable.</p> + +<p>An hour later a strident power syren sounds out from roof of the repair +'shops.' The workmen, hurrying to 'check in' at the gates, scarcely glance +at their new jobs on the blocks of the dry-dock. To them it seems quite a commonplace +that the round of their industry should suffer no halt, that the two +seaworthy ships they completed yesterday should be so quickly replaced by +the same type of casualty for their attention. The magnitude of the task—the +vast extent of plating to be sheared and rebuilt, the beams to be withdrawn +or straightened in place, the litter to be cleared—holds no misgivings. Short +on the stroke of 'turn to' they straggle down the dockside to start the round +anew. With critical eye, foremen and surveyors chalk off the cypher of their +verdicts on the rusted displaced remnants; the gangs apportion and assemble +with tools and gear; the huge travelling cranes rumble along on their railways, +and lower slings and hooks in readiness for a load of damaged steel.</p> + +<p>With the men lined out to the gangways and filing down the dock steps, +chain linking in trial over the crane sheaves, and the bustle of preparation on +ship and shore, everything seems set for an instant beginning—but no hammer +falls as yet. There is, first, a sad freight to be discharged; not all the crew of +the ship with the wrecked engines have gone to the pay-table. Three sombre +closed wagons are waiting by the dockside, and towards them down the long +gangways from the ship, the bodies of an engineer and some of the stokehold +crew are being carried. The weltering flood that held them has drained to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +dock, and busy hands have searched in the wreckage where they died at their +post.</p> + +<p>We have no flags to honour, no processional march to accompany our dead. +Their poor bodies, dripping and fouled, are draped in a simple coarse shroud +that hardly conceals the line of their mangled limbs. Awkwardly the carriers +stumble on the sodden planking and rest arms and knees on the guiding hand-lines. +The workmen pause on the ship and gangways and look respectfully, +if curiously, at the limp burdens as they are carried by.</p> + +<p>Here and there a man speaks of the dead, but the most are silent, with lowering +looks, set teeth—a sharp intake of the breath. . . . Who knows? Perhaps +the spirits of the murdered seamen may come by a payment at the hands of the +shipwright gangs. The best monument to their memory will stand as another +keel on the deep—a quick ripost to the enemy, in his victim repaired and strengthened +and returned to sea.</p> + +<p>Lowering looks, set teeth, a hissing intake of the breath are the right accompaniment +to a blow struck hard home; the thunder of hammers and drills, the +hiss and sparkle of shearing cutters, that breaks out when the wagons have gone, +marks a start to their monument!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-182.jpg" width="500" height="234" alt="DAZZLE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">DAZZLE</span> +</div> + +<h2>XIV</h2> + +<h3>ON CAMOUFLAGE—AND SHIPS' NAMES</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>EARLY in the war the rappel of 'Business as usual' was as deadly at sea +as elsewhere. Arrogant and super-confident in our pride of sea-place, +we made little effort to trim and adapt our practice to rapidly altering +conditions; there were few visible signs to disquiet us, we hardly deviated from +our peaceful sea-path, and had no concern for interference. We carried our +lights ablaze, advertised our doings in plain wireless, announced our sailings +and arrivals, and even devoted more than usual attention to keeping our ships +as span in brave new paint and glistening varnish as the hearts of impressionable +passengers could desire.</div> + +<p>We had difficulties with our manning. The seamen were off, at first tuck of +drum, to what they reckoned a more active part in the great game of war—the +strictly Naval Service—and we were left with weak crews of new and raw hands +to carry on the sea-trade. So, from the very first of it, we engaged in a moral +camouflage in our efforts to keep up appearances, and show the neutrals with +whom we did business that such a thing as war could hardly disturb the smooth +running of our master machine—the Merchants' Service!</p> + +<p>Some there were among us who saw the peril in such prominence, and took +modest (and somewhat hesitating) steps to keep out of the limelight, by setting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +lonely courses on the sea, restraining the comradely gossip of wireless operators, +and toning down appearances from brilliant polish to the more sombre part suiting +a sea in war-time. Deck lights were painted over and obscured, funnel and +masts were allowed to grey to neutral tints, the brown ash that discomposes +fine paint at sea was looked upon with a new and friendly eye. The bias +of chief mates (in a service where promotion is the due for a clean and +tidy ship) was, with difficulty, overcome, and a new era of keen look-out and +sea-trim started.</p> + +<p>There was but moderate support for these bold iconoclasts who dared thus to +affront our high fetish. Ship painting and decoration and upkeep were sacrosanct +rites that even masters must conform to; the enactments of the Medes and +Persians were but idle rules, mere by-laws, compared to the formulæ and prescriptions +that governed the tone of our pantry cupboards and the shades of +cunning grain-work. We were peaceful merchantmen; what was the use of +our dressing up like a parish-rigged man-o'-war? As to the lights—darkening +ship would upset the passengers; there would be rumours and apprehension. +They would travel in less 'nervous' vessels!</p> + +<p>The mine that shattered <i>Manchester Commerce</i> stirred the base of our happy +conventions; the cruise of the <i>Emden</i> set it swaying perilously; the torpedoes +that sank <i>Falaba</i> and <i>Lusitania</i> blew the whole sham edifice to the winds, and we +began to think of our ships in other terms than those of freight and passenger +rates. Our conceptions of peaceful merchantmen were not the enemy's!</p> + +<p>We set about to make our vessels less conspicuous. Grey! We painted +our hulls and funnels grey. In many colours of grey. The nuances of our coatings +were accidental. Poor quality paint and variable untimely mixings contributed, +but it was mainly by crew troubles (deficiency and incapacity) that we +came by our first camouflage. As needs must, we painted sections at a time—a +patch here, a plate or two there—laid on in the way that real sailors would call +'inside-out'! We sported suits of many colours, an infinite variety of shades. +Quite suddenly we realized that grey, in such an ample range—red-greys, blue-greys, +brown-greys, green-greys—intermixed on our hulls, gave an excellent +low-visibility colour that blended into the misty northern landscape.</p> + +<p>Bolshevik now in our methods, we worked on other schemes to trick the +murderer's eye. Convention again beset our path. The great god Symmetry—whom +we had worshipped to our undoing—was torn from his high place. The +glamour of Balances, that we had thought so fine and shipshape, fell from our +eyes, and we saw treachery in every regular disposition. Pairs—in masts, ventilators, +rails and stanchions, boat-groupings, samson posts, even in the shrouds +and rigging—were spies to the enemy, and we rearranged and screened and altered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +as best we could, in every way that would serve to give a false indication of +our course and speed. Freighters and colliers (that we had scorned because of +ugly forward rake of mast and funnel) became the leaders of our fashion. We +wedged our masts forward (where we could) and slung a gaff on the fore side of +the foremast; we planked the funnel to look more or less upright; we painted +a curling bow wash over the propellor and a black elaborate stern on the bows. +We trimmed our ships by the head, and flattered ourselves that, Janus-like, +we were heading all ways!</p> + +<p>Few, including the enemy, were greatly deceived. At that point where +alterations of apparent course were important—to put the putting Fritz off his +stroke—the deck-houses and erections with their beamwise fronts or ends would +be plainly noted, and a true line of course be readily deduced. With all our new +zeal, we stopped short of altering standing structures, but we could paint, and we +made efforts to shield our weakness by varied applications. Our device was old +enough, a return to the chequer of ancient sea-forts and the line of painted gun-ports +with which we used to decorate our clipper sailing ships. (That also was a +camouflage of its day—an effort to overawe Chinese and Malay pirates by the +painted resemblance to the gun-deck of a frigate.) We saw the eye-disturbing +value of a bold criss-cross, and those of us who had paint to spare made a 'Hobson-jobson' +of awning spars and transverse bulkheads.</p> + +<p>These were our sea-efforts—rude trials effected with great difficulty in the +stress of the new sea-warfare. We could only see ourselves from a surface point +of view, and, in our empirics, we had no official assistance. During our brief +stay in port it was impossible to procure day-labouring gangs—even the 'gulls' +of the dockside were busy at sea. On a voyage, gun crews and extra look-outs +left few hands of the watch available for experiments; in any case, our rationed +paint covered little more than would keep the rust in check. We were relieved +when new stars of marine coloration arose, competent shore concerns that, +on Government instruction, arrayed us in a novel war paint. Our rough and +amateurish tricks gave way to the ordered schemes of the dockyard; our ships +were armed for us in a protective coat of many colours.</p> + +<p>Upon us like an avalanche came this real camouflage. Somewhere behind +it all a genius of pantomimic transformation blazed his rainbow wand and fixed +us. As we came in from sea, dazzle-painters swarmed on us, bespattered creatures +with no bowels of compassion, who painted over our cherished glass and teakwood +and brass port-rims—the last lingering evidences of our gentility. Hourly +we watched our trim ships take on the hues of a swingman's roundabouts. We +learned of fancy colours known only in high art—alizarin and grey-pink, purple-lake +and Hooker's green. The designs of our mantling held us in a maze of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +expectation. Bends and ecartelés, indents and rayons, gyrony and counter-flory, +appeared on our topsides; curves and arrow-heads were figured on boats +and davits and deck fittings; apparently senseless dabs and patches were +measured and imprinted on funnel curve and rounding of the ventilators; inboard +and outboard we were streaked and crossed and curved.</p> + +<p>With our arming of guns there was need for instruction in their service and +maintenance; artificial smoke-screens required that we should be efficient +in their use; our Otters called for some measure of seamanship in adjustment +and control. So far all governmental appliances for our defence relied on our +understanding and operation, but this new protective coloration, held aloof +from our confidence, it was quite self-contained, there was no rule to be learnt; +we were to be shipmates with a new contrivance, to the operation of which we +had no control. For want of point in discussion, we criticized freely. We +surpassed ourselves in adjectival review; we stared in horror and amazement +as each newly bedizened vessel passed down the river. In comparison and simile +we racked memory for text to the gaudy creations. "Water running under a +bridge.". . . "Forced draught on a woolly sheep's back." . . . "Mural +decoration in a busy butcher's shop." . . . "Strike <i>me</i> a rosy bloody pink!" +said one of the hands, "if this 'ere don't remind me o' jaundice an' malaria an' +a touch o' th' sun, an' me in a perishin' dago 'orspittel!"</p> + +<p>While naming the new riot of colour grotesque—a monstrosity, an outrage, +myopic madness—we were ready enough to grasp at anything that might help +us in the fight at sea. We scanned our ships from all points and angles to unveil +the hidden imposition. Fervently we hoped that there would be more in it than +met our eye—that our preposterous livery was not only an effort to make Gargantuan +faces at the Boche! Only the most splendid results could justify our +bewilderment.</p> + +<p>Out on the sea we came to a better estimate of the value of our novel war-paint. +In certain lights and positions we seemed to be steering odd courses—it +was very difficult to tell accurately the line of a vessel's progress. The low +visibility that we seamen had sought was sacrificed to enhance a bold disruption +of perspective. While our efforts at deception, based more or less on a one-colour +scheme of greys, may have rendered our ships less visible against certain +favouring backgrounds of sea and sky, there were other weather conditions +in which we would stand out sharply revealed. Abandoning the effort to cloak +a stealthy sea-passage, our newly constituted Department of Marine Camouflage +decked us out in a bold pattern, skilfully arranged to disrupt our perspective, +and give a false impression of our line of course. With a torpedo travelling to +the limit of its run—striking anything that may lie in its course, range is of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +little account. Deflection, on the other hand, is everything in the torpedo-man's +problem—the correct estimation of a point of contact of two rapidly +moving bodies. He relies for a solution on an accurate judgment of his target's +course; it became the business of the dazzle-painters to complicate his working +by a feint in colour and design. The new camouflage has so distorted our sheer +and disrupted the colour in the mass as to make our vessels less easy to hit. If +not invisible against average backgrounds, the dazzlers have done their work +so well that we are at least partially lost in every elongation.</p> + +<p>The mystery withheld from us—the system of our decoration—has done much +to ease the rigours of our war-time sea-life. In argument and discussion on its +origin and purpose we have found a topic, almost as unfailing in its interest as +the record day's run of the old sailing ships. We are agreed that it is a brave +martial coat we wear, but are divided in our theories of production. How is it +done? By what shrewd system are we controlled that no two ships are quite +alike in their splendour? We know that instructions come from a department +of the Admiralty to the dockyard painters, in many cases by telegraph. Is there +a system of abbreviations, a colourist's shorthand, or are there maritime Heralds +in Whitehall who blazon our arms for the guidance of the rude dockside painters? +It can be worked out in fine and sonorous proportions:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><div class='center'>For s.s. <span class="smcap">Corncrix</span></div> + +<p><i>Party per pale, a pale; first, gules, a fesse dancette, sable; second, vert, bendy, +lozengy, purpure cottised with nodules of the first; third, sable, three billets bendwise +in fesse, or: sur tout de tout, a barber's pole cockbilled on a sinking gasometer, all +proper.</i> For motto: "<i>Doing them in the eye.</i>"</p></div> + +<p>One wonders if our old conservatism, our clinging to the past, shall persist +long after the time of strife has gone; if, in the years when war is a memory +and the time comes to deck our ships in pre-war symmetry and grace of black +hulls and white-painted deck-work and red funnels and all the gallant show of it, +some old masters among us may object to the change.</p> + +<p>"Well, have it as you like," they may say. "I was brought up in the good +old-fashioned cubist system o' ship painting—fine patterns o' reds an' greens +an' Ricketts' blue, an' brandy-ball stripes an' that! None o' your damned newfangled +ideas of one-colour sections for me!. . . <i>Huh!</i>. . . And black hulls, +too!. . . Black! A funeral outfit!. . . No, sir! I may be wrong, but +anyway, I'm too old now to chop and change about!"</p> + +<p>If we have become reconciled to the weird patterns of our war-paint, every +instinct of seafaring that is in us rebels against the new naming of our ships.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +Is it but another form of camouflage—like the loving Indian mother abusing +her dear children for deception of a malicious listening Djinn? <i>War Cowslip</i>, +<i>War Dance</i>, <i>War Dreamer!</i> War Hell! Are our new standard ships being thus +badly named, that the enemy may look upon them as pariahs, unworthy of shell +or torpedo? Perhaps, as a thoughtful war measure, it may be chargeful of +pregnant meaning; our new war names for the ships may be germane to some +distant world movement, the first tender shoot of which we cannot yet recognize! +More than likely, it is the result of the fine war-time frolic of fitting the cubest +of square pegs in the roundest of holes. How is it done? Is there, in the hutments +of St. James's Park, an otherwise estimable and blameless greengrocer, +officially charged with the task of finding names for vessels, 015537-68 inclusive, +presently on the Controller's lists and due to be launched?</p> + +<p>We sailors are jealous for our vessels. Abuse us if you will, but have a care +for what you may say of our ships. We alone are entitled to call them bitches, +wet brutes, stubborn craft, but we will stand for no such liberties from the beach; +strikes have occurred on very much less sufficient ground. Ridicule in the naming +of our ships is intolerable. If <i>War</i> is to be the prefix, why cannot our greengrocer +find suitable words in the chronicles of strife? Can there be anything +less martial than the <i>War Rambler</i>, <i>War Linnet</i>, <i>War Titmouse</i>, <i>War Gossamer?</i> +Why not the <i>War Teashop</i>, the <i>War Picture House</i>, the—the—the <i>War Lollipop?</i> +Are we rationed in ships' names? Is there a Controller of Marine Nomenclature? +The thing is absurd!</p> + +<p>If our controllers had sense they would see the danger in thus flouting our +sentiment; they would value the recruiting agency of a good name; they +would recognize that the naming of a ship should be done with as great care as +that of an heir to an earldom. Is the torpedoed bos'n of the <i>Eumaeus</i> going +to boast of a new post on the <i>War Bandbox?</i> What are the feelings of the +captain of a <i>Ruritania</i> when he goes to the yards to take over a <i>War Whistler?</i> +Why <i>War?</i> If sober, businesslike argument be needed, it is confusing; it +introduces a repetition of initial syllable that makes for dangerous tangles in +the scheme of direction and control.</p> + +<p>It is all quite unnecessary. There are names and enough. Fine names! +Seamanlike names! Good names! Names that any sailor would be proud +to have on his worsted jersey! Names that he would shout out in the market-place! +Names that the enemy would read as monuments to his infamy! Names +of ships that we knew and loved and stood by to the bitter end.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<h2>XV</h2> + +<h3>FLAGS AND BROTHERHOOD OF THE SEA</h3> + +<div class='cap'>UNLIKE the marches of the land, with guard and counterguard, we had no +frontiers on the sea. There were no bounds to the nations and their +continents outside of seven or ten fathoms of blue water. We all travelled +on the one highway that had few by-paths on which trespassers might be prosecuted. +And our highway was no primrose path, swept and garnished and safeguarded; +it had perils enough in gale and tempest, fog, ice, blinding snow, +dark moonless nights, rock and shoal and sandbar. Remote from ordered assistance +in our necessity, we relied on favour of a chance passer-by, on a fallible +sea-wanderer like ourselves. So, for our needs, we formed a sea-bond, an International +Alliance against our common hazards of wind and sea and fire, an +assurance of succour and support in emergency and distress. Out of our hunger +for sea-companionship grew a union that had few rules or written compacts, +and no bounds to action other than the simply humane traditions and customs +of the sea. There were no statutory penalties for infringement of the rules +unwritten; we could not, as true seamen, conceive so black a case. We had no +Articles of our Association, no charters, no covenants; our only documents were +the International Code of Signals and the Rule of the Road at Sea. With +these we were content; we understood faith and a blood-bond as brother +seamen, and we put out on our adventures, stoutly warranted against what +might come.</div> + +<p>In the Code of Signals we had a language of our own, more immediate and +attractive than Volapük or Esperanto. The dire fate of the builders of the +Tower held no terror for us, for our intercourse was that of sight and recognition, +not of speech. Our code was one of bright colours and bold striking design—flags +and pendants fluttering pleasantly in the wind or, in calmer weather, +drooping at the halyards with a lift for closer recognition. The symbol of our +masonry was a bold red pendant with two vertical bars of white upon it. We +had fine hoists for hail and farewell; tragic turn of the colours for a serious +emergency, hurried two-flag sets for urgent calls, leisurely symbols of three for +finished periods.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>'<i>Can you</i>' required three flags to itself; <i>me</i> or <i>I</i> or <i>it</i> came all within our +range. We told our names and those of our ports by a long charge of four; we +could cross our <i>t's</i> and dot our <i>i's</i> by beckon of a single square. We lowered slowly +and rehoisted ('knuckles to the staff, you young fool!') our National Ensign, +as we would raise our hat ashore. It was all an easy, courteous and graceful mode +of converse, linguistically and grammatically correct, for we had no concern +with accent or composition, taking our polished phrases from the book. It +suited well the great family of the sea, for, were we a Turk of Galatz and you an +Iceland brigantine, we could pass the time of day or tell one another, simply +and intelligibly, the details of our ports and ladings. Distance, within broad +limits, was small hindrance to our gossip; there were few eyes on the round of +the sea, to read into our confidences. We could put a hail ashore, too. Passing +within sight of San Miguel, we could have a message on the home doorsteps on +the morrow, by hoisting our 'numbers'; the naked lightkeeper on the Dædalus +could tell us of the northern winds by a string of colours thrown out from the upper +gallery.</p> + +<p>Good news, bad news, reports, ice, weather, our food-supply, the wages of our +seamen, the whereabouts of pirates and cannibals, the bank rate, high politics +(we had S.L.R. for Nuncio)—we had them all grouped and classed and ready +for instant reference. Medicine, stocks, the law (G.F.H., King's Bench; these +sharps who never will take a plain seaman's clear word on salvage or the weather, +or the way the fog-whistle was duly and properly sounded!) Figures! We +could measure and weigh and divide and subtract; we could turn your Greek +<i>Daktylas</i> into a Japanese <i>Cho</i> or <i>Tcho</i>, or Turkish <i>Parmaks</i> into the <i>Draas</i> +of Tripoli! Some few world measures had to be appendixed; a <i>Doppelzentner</i> +was Z.N.L. What is a <i>Doppelzentner?</i> </p> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 389px;"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a> +<img src="images/i-190.jpg" width="389" height="600" alt="AN APPRENTICE IN THE MERCHANTS' SERVICE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">AN APPRENTICE IN THE MERCHANTS' SERVICE</span> +</div> + +<p>As evidence of our brotherly regard, our peaceful intent, we had few warlike +phrases. True, we had hoists to warn of pirates, and we could beg a loan, by +signal, of powder and cannon-balls—to supplement our four rusty Snyders, +with which we could defend our property, but there was no group in our +international vocabulary that could read, "I am torpedoing you without +warning!" Seamanlike and simple, we saw only one form of warfare at sea, +and based our signals on that. "Keep courage! I am coming to your +assistance at utmost speed!" . . . "I shall stand by during the night!" . . . "Water +is gaining on me! I am sinking!" . . . "Boat is approaching +your quarter!" These, and others alike, were our war signals, framed to +meet our ideas of the greatest peril we might encounter in our conflict with +the elements.</p> + + +<p>Of all this we write in a sad past tense. Our sea-bond is shattered. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +is no longer a brotherhood on the sea. The latest of our recruits has betrayed +us. The old book is useless, for it contains no reading of the German's avowal, +"Come on the deck of my submarine. I am about to submerge!" . . . "Stand +by, you helpless swine in the boats, while I shell you and scatter your silly blood +and brains!"</p> + +<p>No longer will the receipt of a call of distress be the instant signal (whatever +the weather or your own plight) for putting the helm over. We have shut the +book! We are grown hardened and distrustful. S.O.S. may be the fiend +who has just torpedoed a crowded Red Cross, and endeavours by his lying wireless +to lure a Samaritan to the net. A heaving boat, or a lone raft with a staff +and a scrap, may only be closed with fearful caution; they may be magnets +for a minefield.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>". . . still he called aloud, for he was in the track of steamers. And presently +he saw a steamer. She carried no lights, but he described her form, +a darker shape upon the sea and sky, and saw the sparks volley from her funnel.</p> + +<p>"He shrieked till his voice broke, but the steamer went on and vanished. +The Irishman was furiously enraged, but it was of no use to be angry. He went +on calling. So did the other four castaways, but their cries were growing fainter +and less frequent.</p> + +<p>"Then there loomed another steamer, and she, too, went on. By this time, +perhaps, an hour had gone by, and the Arab firemen had fallen silent. The +Irishman could see them no longer. He never saw them again. A third steamer +hove in sight, and she, too, went on. The Irishman cursed her with the passionate +intensity peculiar to the seaman, and went on calling. It was a desperate +business. . . ."</p></div> + + +<p>The shame of it!</p> + +<p><i>Lusitania</i>, <i>Coquet</i>, <i>Serapis</i>, <i>Thracia</i>, <i>Mariston</i>, <i>The Belgian Prince</i>, <i>Umaria</i> . . .</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>". . . The commanding officer of the submarine, leaning on the rail of the +conning-tower, looked down upon his victims.</p> + +<p>"Crouched upon the thwarts in the sunlight, up to their knees in water, which, +stained crimson, was flowing through the shell-holes in the planking, soaked +with blood, holding their wounds, staring with hunted eyes, was the heap of +stricken men.</p> + +<p>"The German ordered the boat away. The shore was fifteen miles +distant. . . ."</p></div> + +<p>He ordered the boat away! The shame of it! The abasing, dishonouring +shame of it!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bitterly, tarnished—we realize our portion in the guilt, our share in this +black infamy—that seamen should do this thing!</p> + +<p>What of the future? What will be the position of the German on the sea +when peace returns, let the settlement by catholic conclave be what it may?</p> + +<p>Sailorfolk have long memories! Living a life apart from their land-fellows, +they have but scant regard for the round of events that, on the shore, would be +canvassed and discussed, consented—and forgotten. There is no busy competing +commercial intrigue, no fickle market, no grudging dalliance on the sea. +We stand fast to our own old sea-justice; we have no shades of mercy or condonation, +no degrees of tolerance for this bastard betrayer of our unwritten +sea-laws. No brotherhood of the sea can be conceived to which he may be re-admitted. +Not even the dethronement of the Hohenzollern can purge the deeds +of his marine Satraps, for their crimes are individual and personal and +professional.</p> + +<p>In the League of Nations a purged and democratic Germany may have a +station, but there is no redemption for a Judas on the sea. There, by every +nation, every seafarer, he will remain a shunned and abhorred Ishmael for all +time.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> +<h2>PART III</h2> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-196.jpg" width="500" height="236" alt="A STANDARD SHIP AT SEA" title="" /> +<span class="caption">A STANDARD SHIP AT SEA</span> +</div> + +<h2>XVI</h2> + +<h3>THE CONVOY SYSTEM</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>EARLY in 1917 the losses of the merchants' ships and men had assumed a +proportion that called for a radical revision of the systems of naval +protection. Concentrating their energies on but one specific form of sea +offence, the enemy had developed their submarine arm to a high point of +efficiency. Speed and power and lengthy sea-keeping qualities were +attained. To all intents and purposes the U-boats had become surface +destroyers with the added conveniency of being able to disappear at +sight. They conducted their operations at long distance from the land +and from their bases. The immense areas of the high seas offered a +peculiar facility for 'cut-and-run' tactics: the system of independent +sailings of the merchantmen provided them with a succession of victims, +timed in a progression that allowed of solitary disposal. +Notwithstanding the matured experience of submarine methods gained by +masters, the rapid evolution of counter-measures by the Royal Navy, the +courage and determination of all classes of seafarers, our shipping and +that of our Allies and the neutral nations was being destroyed at a rate +that foreshadowed disaster.</div> + +<p>Schemes of rapid ship construction were advanced, lavish expenditure +incurred, plans and occupation designed—all to ensure a replacement of +tonnage at a future date. More material in point of prompt effect were the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +efforts of the newly formed Ministry of Shipping to conserve existing tonnage +by judicious and closely controlled employment. All but sternly necessary +sea-traffic was eliminated: harbour work in loading and unloading was +expedited: the virtues of a single control enhanced the active agency of the +merchants' ships—now devoted wholly to State service. Joined to the provisional +and economic measures of the bureaux, Admiralty reorganized their +methods of patrol and sea-supervision of the ships. The entry of the United +States into the world war provided a considerable increase of naval strength to +the Allied fleets. Convoy measures, that before had been deemed impracticable, +were now possible. Destroyers and sloops could be released from fleet duties +and were available as escorts. American flotillas crossed the Atlantic to protect +the sea-routes: Japanese war craft assisted us in the Mediterranean.</p> + +<p>In the adoption of the convoy system the Royal Navy was embarking on +no new venture. Modern ships and weapons may have brought a novel complication +to this old form of sea-guardianship, but there is little in seafaring +for which the traditions of the Naval Service cannot offer text and precedent. +The constant of protection by convoy has remained unaltered by the advance +of armament and the evolution of strange <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'warcraft'">war craft</ins>: the high spirit of self-sacrifice +is unchanged. When, in October 1917, the destroyers <i>Strongbow</i> +and <i>Mary Rose</i> accepted action and faced three German cruisers, their commanders—undismayed +by the tremendous odds—reacted the parts of the common +sea-dramas of the Napoleonic wars. The same obstinate courage and unconquerable +sea-pride forbade them to desert their convoy of merchantmen and seek +the safety that their speed could offer. H.M.S. <i>Calgarian</i>, torpedoed and sinking, +had yet thought for the convoy she escorted. Her last official signal directed +the ships to turn away from the danger.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a> +<img src="images/i-198.jpg" width="600" height="410" alt="BUILDING A STANDARD SHIP" title="" /> +<span class="caption">BUILDING A STANDARD SHIP</span> +</div> + +<p>The convoy system did not spring fully served and equipped from the earlier +and less exacting control. Tentative measures had to be devised and approved, +a large staff to be recruited and trained. The clerical work of administration +was not confined to the home ports; similar adjustment and preparation had +to be conducted in friendly ports abroad. As naval services were adapted to +the new control, the system was extended. The comparatively simple procedure +of sending destroyer escorts to meet homeward-bound convoys became involved +with the timing and dispatch of a mercantile fleet sailing from a home port. The +escorts were ordered out on a time-table that admitted of little derangement. Sailing +from a British port with a convoy of outward-bound vessels, the destroyers +accompanied that fleet to a point in the Atlantic. There the convoy was dispersed, +and the destroyers swung off to rendezvous with a similar convoy of inward-bound +vessels. While the outgoing merchantmen were allowed to proceed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +independently after passing through the most dangerous area, the homeward-bound +vessels were grouped to sail in company from their port abroad. An +ocean escort was provided—usually a cruiser of the older class—and there was +opportunity in the longer voyage for the senior officer to drill the convoy to +some unity and precision in manœuvre.</p> + +<p>The commander of the ocean escort had no easy task in keeping his charges +together. The age-old difficulty of grouping the ships in the order of their +sailing (now steaming) powers has not diminished since Lord Cochrane, in command +of H.M.S. <i>Speedy</i>, complained of the 'fourteen sail of merchantmen' he +convoyed from Cagliari to Leghorn. In the first enthusiasm of a new routine, +masters were over-sanguine in estimation of the speed of their ships. The +average of former passages offered a misleading guide. While it was possible +to average ten and a half knots on a voyage from Cardiff to the Plate, proceeding +at a speed that varied with the weather (and the coal), station could not easily +be kept in a ten-knot convoy when—at the cleaning of the fires—the steam went +'back.' Swinging to the other extreme (after experience of the guide-ship's +angry signals), we erred in reserving a margin that retarded the full efficiency +of a convoy. Our commodores had no small difficulty in conforming to the date +of their convoy's arrival at a rendezvous. The 'cruising speed' of ten knots, +that we had so blithely taken up when sailing from an oversea port, frequently +toned down to an average of eight—with all the consequent derangement of +the destroyers' programme at the home end; a declared nine-knot convoy +would romp home at ten, to find no escort at the rendezvous.</p> + +<p>In time, we adjusted our estimate to meet the new demands. Efforts of the +Ministry of Shipping to evolve an order in our voyaging that would reduce +irregularities had good results. The skilfully thought-out appointment of +the ships to suitable routes and trades had effect in producing a homogeneity +that furthered the employment of our resources to the full. The whole conduct +of our seafaring speedily came within the range of governmental control, as +affecting the timely dispatch and arrival of the convoys. The quality of our +fuel, the state of the hull, competence of seamen, formed subject for close investigation. +The rate of loading or discharge, the urgency of repairs and refitment, +were no longer judged on the note of our single needs; like the states of the +weather and the tide, they were weighed and assessed in the formula that +governed our new fleet movements.</p> + +<p>The system of convoy protection had instant effect in curbing the activities +of the U-boats. They could no longer work at sea on the lines that had proved +so safe for them and disastrous for us. To get at the ships they had now to +come within range of the destroyers' armament. Hydrophones and depth-charges<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +reduced their vantage of submersion. The risks of sudden rupture of +their plating by the swiftly moving keel of an escorting vessel did not tend to +facilitate the working of their torpedo problem. In the coastal areas aircraft +patrolled overhead the convoys, to add their hawk-sight to the ready swerve +of the destroyers. The chances of successful attack diminished as the hazard +of discovery and destruction increased. Still, they were no fainthearts. The +German submarine commanders, brutal and hell-nurtured, are no cowards. +The temptation of a massed target attracted them, and they sought, in the +confusion of the startled ships, a means of escape from the destroyers when +their shot into the 'brown' had run true.</p> + +<p>Convoy has added many new duties to the sum of our activities when at +sea. Signals have assumed an importance in the navigation. The flutter of a +single flag may set us off on a new course at any minute of the day. Failure to +read a hoist correctly may result in instant collision with a sister ship. We +have need of all eyes on the bridge to keep apace with the orders of the commodore. +In station-keeping we are brought to the practice of a branch of +seamanship with which not many of us were familiar. Steaming independently, +we had only one order for the engineer when we had dropped the pilot. 'Full +speed ahead,' we said, and rang a triple jangle of the telegraph to let the engineer +on watch know that there would be no more 'backing and filling'—and that he +could now nip into the stokehold to see to the state of the fires. Gone—our +easy ways! We have now to keep close watch on the guide-ship and fret the +engineer to adjustments of the speed that keep him permanently at the levers. +The fires may clag and grey down through unskilful stoking—the steam go +'back' without warning: ever and on, he has to jump to the gaping mouth of +the voice-tube: "Whit? Two revolutions? Ach! Ah cannae gi' her ony +mair!"—but he does. Slowly perhaps, but surely, as he coaxes steam from the +errant stokers, we draw ahead and regain our place in the line. No small measure +of the success of convoy is built up in the engine-rooms of our mercantile fleets.</p> + +<p>Steaming in formation at night without lights adds to our 'grey heires.' +The menace of collision is ever present. Frequently, in the darkness, we have +no guide-ship in plain sight to regulate our progress. The adjustments of speed, +that in the daytime kept us moderately well in station, cannot be made. It is +best to turn steadily to the average revolutions of a former period, and keep +a good look-out for the broken water of a sister ship. On occasion there is the +exciting medley of encountering a convoy bound the opposite way. In the +confusion of wide dispersal and independent alterations of course to avert +collision, there is latitude for the most extraordinary situations. An incident +in the Mediterranean deserves imperishable record: "We left Malta, going east,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +and that night it was inky dark and we ran clean through a west-bound convoy. +How there wasn't an accident, God only knows. We had to go full astern to +clear one ship. She afterwards sidled up alongside of us and steamed east for +an hour and a half. Then she hailed us through a megaphone: 'Steamer ahoy! +Hallo! Where are you bound to?' 'Salonika,' we said. 'God Almighty,' +he says. 'I'm bound to Gibraltar. Where the hell's <i>my</i> convoy?'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-203.jpg" width="500" height="289" alt="THE THAMES ESTUARY IN WAR-TIME" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE THAMES ESTUARY IN WAR-TIME</span> +</div> + +<h2>XVII</h2> + +<h3>OUTWARD BOUND</h3> + +<div class='cap'>CUSTOMS clerks--may their name be blessed--are worth much more than +their mere weight in gold. We do not mean the civil servants at the +Custom House, who listen somewhat boredly to our solemn Oath and +Compearance. Doubtless they, too, are of value, but our concern is with the +owner's shipping clerk who attends our hesitating footsteps in the walk of ships' +business when we come on shore. He greets us on arrival from overseas, bearing +our precious letters and the news of the firm: he has the devious paths of our +entry-day's course mapped out, down to the train we may catch for home. As +an oracle of the port, there is nothing he does not know: the trains, the week's +bill at the 'Olympeambra,' the quickest and cheapest way to send packages to +Backanford, suitable lodging in an outport, the standing of the ship laundries, +the merits of the hotels--he has information about them all. During our stay +in port he attends to our legal business. He speeds us off to the sea again, +with all our many folios in order.</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>In peace, we had a settled round that embraced the Custom House for entry, +the Board of Trade for crew affairs, the Notary for 'Protest.' (". . . and +experienced the usual heavy weather!") War has added to our visiting-list. +We must make acquaintance with the many naval authorities who control our +movements; the Consuls of the countries we propose to visit must see us in +person; it would be discourteous to set sail without a p.p.c. on the Dam-ship +and Otter officers. Ever and on, a new bureau is licensed to put a finger in our +pie: we spend the hours of sailing-day in a round of call and counter-call. The +Consul wishes to <i>visé</i> our Articles—the Articles may not be handed over till we +produce a slip from the Consul, the Consul will grant no slip till we have seen the +S.I.O. "Have we identity papers for every member of the crew, with photograph +duly authenticated?"—"We are instructed not to grant passports!" Back and +forward we trudge while the customs clerk at our side tells cheerfully of the +very much more trying time that fell to Captain Blank.</p> + +<p>By wile and industry and pertinacity he unwinds the tangle of our longshore +connections. He reconciles the enmity of the bureaux, pleads for us, +apologizes for us, fights for us, engages for us. All we have to do is to sign, +and look as though the commercial world stood still, awaiting the grant of that +particular certificate. Undoubtedly the customs clerk is worth his weight in +red, red gold!</p> + +<p>On a bright summer afternoon we emerge from the Custom House. We have +completed the round. In the case which the clerk carries we have authority to +proceed on our lawful occasions. Customs have granted clearance; our manifests +are stamped and ordered; the Articles of Agreement and the ship's Register +are in our hands. The health of our port of departure is guaranteed by an +imposing document. Undocking permit, vouchers for pilotage and light dues, +discharge books, sea-brief, passports, and store-sheets, are all there for lawful +scrutiny. In personal safe-keeping, we have our sea-route ordered and planned. +The hard work is done. There is no more <i>business</i>—nothing to do but to go on +board and await the rise of tide that shall float us through the river channels to +sea.</p> + +<p>Cargo is stowed and completed; the stevedores are unrigging their gear +when we reach the ship. Our coming is noted, and the hatch foremen (in +anticipation of a 'blessing') rouse the dockside echoes with carefully phrased +orders to their gangs: "T' hell wit' yes, now! Didn't Oi tell ye, Danny Kilgallen, +that <i>th' Cyaptin</i> wants thim tarpolyan sames turned fore an' aff!" +(A shilling or two for him!)—"Beggin' yer pardon, sir—I don't see th' mate +about—will we put them fenders below <i>for ye</i> before we close th' hatch?" +(Another <i>pourboire!</i> )—Number three has finished his hatchway, but his smiling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +regard calls for suitable acknowledgment. (After all, we shall have no use for +British small coinage out West!) The head foreman, dear old John, is less +ambitious. All he wants is our understanding that he has stowed her tight—and +a shake of the hand for good luck. Firmly we believe in the good luck that +lies in the hand of an old friend. "'Bye, John!"</p> + +<p>In groups, as their work is finished, the dockers go on shore, and leave to the +crew the nowise easy task of clearing up the raffle, lashing down, and getting +the lumbered decks in something approaching sea-trim. Fortunately, there +is time for preparation. Usually, we are dragged to the dock gates with the +hatches uncovered, the derricks aloft, and the stowers still busy blocking off +the last slings of the cargo. This time there will be no hurried (and improper) +finish—the stevedores hurling their gear ashore at the last minute, slipping down +the fender lanyards, scurrying to a 'pier-head jump,' with the ship moving +through the lock! Some happy chance has brought completion within an hour +or two of tide-time. The mate has opportunity to clear ship effectively, and +we have leisure to plot and plan our sea-route (in anticipation of hasty chart +glances when we get outside) before the pier-master hails us—"Coom along wi' +t' <i>Massilia!</i> "</p> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 400px;"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a> +<img src="images/i-206.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="DROPPING THE PILOT" title="" /> +<span class="caption">DROPPING THE PILOT</span> +</div> +<p>Tugs drag us through the inner gates, pinch and angle our heavy hull in the +basin, and enter us into the locks. The massive gates are swung across, the +sluices at the river-end eased to an outflow and, slowly, the great lock drains +to the river level. The wires of our quay-fasts tauten and ring out to the tension +of the outdraft, as we surge in the pent water-space and drop with the falling +level. Our high bridge view over the docks and the river is pared in inches by +our gradual descent; the deck falls away under cope of the rough masonry; +our outlook is turned upwards to where the dockmaster signals his orders. The +ship seems suddenly to assume the proportions of a canal-boat in her contrast +with the sea-scarred granite walls and the bulk of the towering gates.</p> + +<p>At level with the flood, the piermen heave the outer lock-gates open for our +passage. We back out into the river, bring up, then come ahead, canting to +a rudder pressure that sheers us into the fairway. The river is thronged by +vessels at anchor or under way, docking and undocking on the top of the tide, +and their manœuvres make work for our pilot. At easy speed we work a traverse +through the press at the dock entrances and head out to seaward.</p> + + + +<p>Evening is drawing on as we enter the sea-channels—a quiet close to a fine +summer day. Out on the estuary it is hard to think of war at sea. Shrimpers +are drifting up on the tide, the vivid glow of their tanned canvas standing over +a mirrored reflection in the flood. The deep of the fairway is scored by passage +of coasting steamers, an unending procession that joins lightship to lightship<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +in a chain of transport. The sea-reaches look in no way different from the +peaceful channels we have known so long, the buoys and the beacons we pass +in our courses seem absurdly tranquil, as though lacking any knowledge that +they are signposts to a newly treacherous sea. Only from the land may one +draw a note of warning—on shore there are visible signs of warfare. The searchlights +of the forts, wheeling over the surface of the channels, turn on us and +steady for a time in inspection. Farther inland, ghostly shafts and lances are +sweeping overhead, in ceaseless scrutiny of the quiet sky.</p> + +<p>At a bend in the fairway we close and speak the channel patrol steamer and +draw no disquieting impression from her answer to our hail. The port is still +open and we may proceed on our passage to join convoy at ——. An escort +will meet us in 1235 and conduct us to 5678. 'Carry on!'</p> + +<p>It is quite dark when we round the outer buoy and reduce speed to drop our +pilot. The night is windless and a calm sea gives promise of a good passage. +We bring up close to the cutter, and, shortly, with a stout 'Good-bye,' the pilot +swings overside and clambers down the long side-ladder to his boat. We shut +off all lights and steer into the protecting gloom of the night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-209.jpg" width="500" height="290" alt="EXAMINATION SERVICE PATROL BOARDING AN INCOMING STEAMER" title="" /> +<span class="caption">EXAMINATION SERVICE PATROL BOARDING AN INCOMING STEAMER</span> +</div> + +<h2>XVIII</h2> + +<h3>RENDEZVOUS</h3> + +<div class='cap'>ALMOST hourly they round the Point, turning in from seaward with a fine +swing and thrash of propellors to steer a careful course through the boom +defences. Screaming gulls wheel and poise and dive around them, exulting +to welcome the new-comers in, and the musical clank and rattle of anchor +cables, as the ships bring up in the Roads, mark emphatic periods to this--the +short coasting section of the voyage.</div> + +<p>"Safe here!" sing the chains, as they link out over the open hawse. "Thus +far, anyway, in spite of fog and coast danger, of mine and submarine," and the +brown hill-side joins echo to the clamour of the wheeling gulls, letting all know +the ships have come in to join the convoy.</p> + +<p>The bay, that but a day ago lay broad and silent and empty, now seems to +narrow its proportions as each high-sided merchantman comes in; the hills +draw nearer with every broad hull that anchors, wind-rode, in the blue of the bay. +As if in key with the illusion, the broad expanse of shallow, inshore water,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +that before gave distance to the hills, now sheds its power, cut and furrowed as it +becomes by thrash and wake of tugs and launches all making out to serve the +larger vessels.</p> + +<p>On the high mound of the harbour-master's look-out, keen eyes note all +movements in the bay. The signal-mast and yard bear a gay setting of flags +and symbols, and rapid changes and successions show the yeoman of signals +and his mates at work, recording and replying, taking mark and tally of the ships +as they arrive. Up and down goes the red-and-white-barred answering pendant +to say that it is duly noted—"<i>War Trident</i>, <i>Marmion</i>, and <i>Pearl Shell</i> report +arrival"—or the semaphore arms, swinging smartly, tell H.M.S. <i>03xyz</i> that +permission to enter harbour (she having safely escorted the trio to port) is +approved.</p> + +<p>Out near the entrance to the bay, where the 'gateships' of the boom defences +show clear water, the patrol steamer of the Examination Service lays-to, +challenging each incoming vessel to state her name and particulars. These, in +turn, are signalled to the shore and the yeoman writes: "Begins war trident +for norfolk va. speed nine knots is ready for sea stop marmion for Bahia +reports steering engine broken down will require ten hours complete repairs +stop pearl shell nine and half short-handed one fireman two trimmers report +agents stop ends."</p> + +<p>If room is scanty, the convoy office has at least an atmosphere in keeping +with its mission. Nestling close under the steep brow of the harbour-master's +look-out, it was, in happier days, the life-boat coxswain's dwelling, and a constant +reminder of sea-menace and emergency almost blocks the door—the long boat-house +and launch-ways of the life-boat. Four square and solid, the little house +only has windows overlooking the bay, as if attending strictly to affairs at sea +and having no eyes for landward doings; the peering eaves face straight out +towards the 'gateships' as though even the stone and lime were intent on the +sailing of the convoys, whose order and formation are arranged within their +walls. The upper room has a desk or two, a telephone, a chart table, and a +typewriter, and here the port convoy officer and his assistants trim and index +and arrange the ships in order of their sailing. At the window a seaman-writer +is typing out 'pictures' for the next sailing—signal tables, formation and +dispersal diagrams, call signs, zigzags, constantly impressing that Greenwich +Mean Time is the thing (no Summer Time at sea), and that courses are True, +<i>not</i> Magnetic. The clack and release of his machine seem quite a part of conversation +between the convoy officer and his lieutenant; the whole is so apparently +disjointed in references to this ship and that, to repairs and tides, and +shortage of 'hands' and water-supply and turns in the hawse, and even Spanish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +influenza! To one accustomed to single-ship work the whole is mildly bewildering, +and one readily understands that sailing a merchant convoy calls for more +than the simple word of command.</p> + +<p>"<i>War Trident</i>, nine knots," reads the junior, from a signal slip. "<i>Marmion</i>, a +doubtful starter—steering-gear disabled. <i>Pearl Shell</i>, three stokehold hands short."</p> + +<p>"<i>Trident</i> only nine! That be damned for a yarn!" says his senior, reaching +for the slip. "Nine will reduce the speed of the whole convoy a knot. She must +be good for more—new ship, isn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. One of these new standards—built for eleven knots and chocked up +afterwards with fancy gear and 'gadjets' to rob the boilers."</p> + +<p>"Lemme see—nine knots"—turning to the pages of a tide-book, the convoy +officer makes a rough sum of it. "High water at Oysterpool—so—arrived here—distance—and +seventy-one. Why, he's come on from Oysterpool at ten, no +less, and that's not allowing for the zigzag either!"</p> + +<p>The lieutenant looks round for his cap. Clearly there is a definite 'drill' +for captains who come on from Oysterpool at ten and declare their speed as +nine, and he is ready when the P.C.O. passes orders. "All right. You +go off and see the captain. Try to get him to spring at least half a knot. +I expect he's allowing a bit for 'coming up,' and going easy till he knows his +new ship. . . . I'll 'phone <i>Pearl Shell's</i> agents and warn 'em to hustle round for +firemen. <i>Marmion?</i> Yes. Board <i>Marmion</i> on your way back. Wants ten +hours—she should be able to keep her sailing." A year agone there would +have been but moderate and passive interest in the varying troubles of the ships +and their crews, but much water has flowed over the Red Ensign since then, +and we are learning.</p> + +<p>The convoy lieutenant goes down a winding path to the boat-slip and boards +his launch to set off for the Roads. The morning, that broke fair and unclouded, +has turned grey; a damp sea-mist is wandering over the bay in thin wraiths and +feathers, but sunlight on the brown of the distant hills promises a clearing as +the day draws on. Fishing-smacks, delayed by want of wind, are creeping in +to the market steps under sweep of their long oars, and their lazy canvas rustles, +and the booms and sheet-blocks creak as the wash of the picket-launch sets +them swaying. In from the sea channels, with their sweeps still wet and glistening, +come the <i>Agnes Whitwell</i>, <i>Fortuna</i>, the <i>Dieudonné</i>, and <i>Brother Fred</i>, +each with a White Ensign aloft and a naked grey gun on their high bows. They +are late in their return, and one can guess at deadly iron spheres stirred from +the depths of the fairways, thrown buoyant in the wash astern, and destroyed +by crack of gunfire. The commodore of the sisterly pairs, a young lieutenant +of Reserve, waves a cheery greeting as we pass.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i-212.jpg" width="600" height="357" alt="DAWN: CONVOY PREPARING TO PUT TO SEA" title="" /> +<span class="caption">DAWN: CONVOY PREPARING TO PUT TO SEA</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> + +<p>And now the Roads, windless and misty, the anchored merchantmen swung +at different angles, in their gay fantasy of dazzle-paint, borrowing further motley +from the mist, and leering grotesquely through the thin vapours. But for her +lines, undeniably fine and graceful, <i>War Trident</i> is the standardest of standards. +Dazzle-painters have slapped their spite at her in lurid swathes and, not content, +have draped her sheer in harlequin crenellations. Her low pipe-funnel upstands +in rigid perpendicular. ("Chief! Pit yer haun' up an' feel if th' kettle's +bilin'!") No masts break the long length of her, saving only a midship signal-pole +that serves her wireless aerials and affords a hod-like perch for the look-out +aloft. She is stark new, smooth of plating, and showing even the hammer-strokes +on her rivets. Through the thin paint on her sides, marks and symbols +of construction appear, the letters of her strakes painted in firm white, with +here and there an unofficial shipyard embellishment—"Good old Jeemy Quin," +or "Tae hell wi' the Kiser!" She is ready for sea, and life-boats and davits, +swung outboard, tower overhead as the picket-launch draws up at her gaunt +side. She is in ballast trim, and it is evident that her standard carpenters hold +strictly to a rule that ignores a varying freeboard—the side ladder is short by +eight feet, and only by middling the rungs (a leap at the bottom, a long swaying +climb, and a drag at the top) are we able to clamber on board.</p> + +<p>A special 'drill' for conducting affairs with masters of brand-new ships +should be devised immediately by Admiralty, and the mildest of Low-Church +curates (trimmed by previous dire tortures to the utter limit of +exasperation) be provided, on whom officials may be well practised. Usually +the master has been hurried out of port by the last rivet driven home, with +strange officers and the very weakest of new crews, in a ship jam-full of the newest +'gadjets,' and the least possible reserve of gear to work them. Quickly and +bitterly the fourth sentence of Confession at Morning Prayer is recalled to him—the +things undone crowd round, and there is nothing in the bare hull to serve as a +makeshift. The engines and <i>auxiliaries</i> (that, with a builder's man at every +bearing, worked well on trials) now develop tricks and turns to keep the chief +engineer and his fledgling juniors on the run; the mate cries "Kamerad" to +all suggestions, pointing to his hopeless watch of one. (Eight deck: four in +a watch, less one helmsman and two look-outs, equals one.) Add to the sum of +difficulties that the captain has probably been ashore since he lost his last ship, +and finds the new tactics and signals and zigzags unfamiliar; through it all +the want of familiar little trifles and fixings (that go so far to help a ready action), +sustains a feeling of irritation.</p> + +<p>It is little wonder that the convoy lieutenant goes warily, and, indeed, but +for the brilliant inspiration of using the 'last ship,' it seems probable that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +convoy will have to proceed at <i>Trident's</i> modest nine knots. Bluntly, the +captain is in undisguised ill-humour. He has been on deck practically since +leaving the builder's yard, and his weary eyes suggest a need for prompt sleep. +His room, still reeking of new paint and varnish, is in some disorder, and +shows traces of an anxious passage along the coast. 'Notices to Mariners' +lie open at the minefield sketches, with a half-smoked pipe atop to keep the +pages open; chart upon chart is piled (for want of a rack) on bed and couch; +oilskins, crumpled as when drawn off, hang over the edge of a door—not a peg +to hang them on; an open sextant case, jammed secure by pillows, lies on the +washstand lid; books of sailing directions, a taffrail log, some red socket-flares, +are heaped awry in a corner of the room; the whole an evidence that lockers +and minor ship conveniences are not yet standardized. Pray goodness he may +have a stout honest thief of a chief mate, able and willing to find a baulk or +two of timber, and a few nails and brass screws and copper tacks and a curtain-rod +or two and a bolt of canvas!</p> + +<p>The convoy lieutenant, unheeding a somewhat surly return of his greeting, +produces Convoy Form No. AX, and starts in cheerfully to fill the vacant columns. +"Tonnage, captain?—register will do. Crew? Guns? Coal?—consumpt. +at speeds. Revolutions per half-knot?" The form completed, he hands it +over for signature, thus tactfully drawing the captain's attention to the secretarial +work he has done for him. "What's the speed? Nine and a half?" +"Speed!" answers the Old Man. "Hell! This bunch of hair-springs can't +keep out of her own way! Speed? The damned funnel's so low we can't get +draught to burn a cigarette-paper; and these new pumps they've given her!. . . +Well, we might do nine, but only in fine weather, mind you. Nine knots!"</p> + +<p>"You'll have to do better for this convoy, captain. There's not a ship under +nine and a half; but there may be a bunch of eight-<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'knoters'">knotters</ins> going out in five +days."</p> + +<p>"Nothing under nine and a half! What? Why, there's <i>Pearl Shell</i> came +in with us. She hasn't a kick above nine. When I was in the old <i>Collonia</i>, +we. . . ."</p> + +<p>"The <i>Collonia?</i> A fine ship, Gad! Were you in her, captain, when she +was strafed? Let's see—Mediterranean, wasn't it?" The captain nods +pleasantly, as if accepting a compliment.</p> + +<p>"<i>Umm!</i> Mediterranean—troops—a hell of a job to get them off. Lost +some, though"—regretfully.</p> + +<p>The convoy lieutenant turns a good card. "Must be a change to come down +to ten knots, captain, after a crack ship like <i>Collonia</i>. What could she do? +Sixteen?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh no. We could get an eighteen-knot clip out of her—more, if we +wanted!" (If <i>War Trident's</i> speed be low and doubtful, the Old Man can +safely pile the knots on his stricken favourite.) "<i>She</i> was a ship, not a damned +parish-rigged barge like this—a poverty-stricken hulk that. . . ."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I heard about her from Benson, of <i>War Trumpet</i>. He sailed in last +convoy. Said he was glad he wasn't appointed here."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't appointed here, be damned! Didn't have the chance. Why, +that ship of his isn't in the same class at all. The <i>Trident</i> can steer, anyway, +and when we get things fixed up. . . . She has the hull of a fine ship. If only we +could get a decent funnel on her. . . . Here, I'll try her at your nine and a half +knots! I'll bet <i>War Trumpet</i> can't do a kick above nine!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Be it noted that the convoy officers have the wavy gold lace of the R.N.R. +for their rank stripes; plain half-inch ones of the Royal Navy might have had +to let the convoy sail at nine, after all—not knowing the 'grip' of the 'last +ship.'</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-217.jpg" width="500" height="385" alt="EVENING: PLYMOUTH HOE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">EVENING: PLYMOUTH HOE</span> +</div> + +<h2>XIX</h2> + +<h3>CONFERENCE</h3> + +<div class='cap'>"A LAUNCH will be sent off at 3 p.m., S.T., to bring masters on shore +for conference. You are requested to bring"--etc. So reads the notice, +and p.m. finds the coxswain of the convoy office picket-boat steaming +and backing from ship to ship, and making no secret of his disapproval of a scheme +of things that keeps him waiting (tootling, perhaps, an impatient blast), while +leisurely shipmasters give final orders to their mates at the gangways. ("That +damned ship's cat in the chart-room again, sir!")</div> + +<p>More ships have come in since the clearing of the morning mist, and calm +weather and vagaries of the tide have combined to crowd the ships in the +anchorage into uncomfortably close quarters; perhaps, after all, it would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +be rather the counter-swing of that River Plate boat, anchoring close +abeam ("Given me a foul berth, damn him!"), than the insanitary ways of the +ship's cat that kept the captain, one leg over the rail, so long in talk with +his mate.</p> + +<p>Never, since the days of sailing ships and the leisurely deep-sea parliaments +in the ship-chandler's back room, have we been brought so much together. +The bustle and dispatch of steamer work, in pre-war days, kept us apart from +our sea-fellows; there were few forgatherings where we could exchange views +and experiences and abuse 'square-heads' and damn the Board of Trade. +Now, the run of German torpedoes has banded us together again, and in convoy +and their conferences, we are coming to know one another as never before. At +first we were rather reserved, shy perhaps, and diffident, one to another. Careless, +in a way, of longshore criticism and opinion, we were somewhat concerned that +conduct among our peers should be dignified and seaworthy; then, the fine +shades of precedence—largely a matter of the relative speeds of our commands—had +to average out before the 'master' of an east-coast tramp and the 'captain' +of an R.M.S. found joint and proper equality. In this again, the enemy +torpedo served a turn, and we are not now surprised to learn that the 'captain' +of a modest nine-knot freighter had been (till she went down with the colours +apeak) 'master' of His Majesty's Transport of 16,000 tons.</p> + +<p>So we crowd up together in the convoy launch, and introduce ourselves, +and talk a while of our ships and crews till stoppage of the engines and clatter +of hardwood side-ladders mark another recruit, sprawling his way down the high +wall-side of a ballasted ship. The coxswain sighs relief as he pockets his list—the +names all now ticked off in order of their boarding—and puts his helm over +to swing inshore. "A job o' work," he says. "Like 'unt th' slipper, this +'ere! 'Ow can I tell wot ships they is, names all painted hover; an' them as +does show their names is only damn numbers!"</p> + +<p>In pairs, colloguing as we go, we mount the jetty steps and find a way to +the conference-room. We make a varied gathering. Some few are in their company's +service uniform, but most of us, misliking an array but grudgingly +tolerated in naval company, wear longshore clothes and, in our style, affect +soft felt hats and rainproof overcoats. Not very gallant raiment, it is true, +but since brave tall hats and plain brass buttons and fancy waistcoats and +Wellingtons went out with the lowering of the last single topsail, we have had +no convention in our attire. In conference we come by better looks—bareheaded, +and in stout blue serge, we sit a-row facing the blackboard on which our 'drills' +are chalked. Many find a need for eyeglasses, the better to read the small +typescript (uniformly bad) handed round to us, that sets forth our stations<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +and the order of our sailing, and one wonders if the new look-out has brought +us at last to the hands of the opticians; certainly, our eyes are 'giving' under +the strain.</p> + +<p>Of all the novel routine that war has brought to seafaring, convoy work is, +perhaps, the most apart from our normal practice. We have now to think of +concerted action, outboard the limits of our own bulwark; we have become subject +to restriction in our sailing; we conform to movements whose purpose may not, +perhaps, be plainly apparent. Trained and accustomed to single and undisputed +command, it was not easy to alter the habits of a lifetime at sea. We +were autocrats in our small sea-world, bound only by our owner's instruction +to proceed with prudence and dispatch. We had no super-captain on the sea +to rule our lines and set our courses and define our speeds. We made 'eight +bells!'</p> + +<p>But the 'bells' we made and the courses we steered and the rate we sped +could not bring all of us safely to port. They gave us guns—and we used them +passing well—but guns could not, at that date, deflect torpedoes, and ships +went down. Then came convoy and its success, and we had to pocket our declarations +of independence, and steer in fleets and company; and gladly enough, +too, we availed ourselves of a union in strength, though it took time to custom +us to a new order at sea.</p> + +<p>At first we were resentful of what, ill-judging, we deemed interference. Were +we not master mariners, skilled seamen, able to trim and handle our ships in +any state or case? And if, on our side, the great new machine revolved a turn +or two uneasily, it is true that the naval spur-wheel was not itself entirely free +of grit. The naval officers, who drilled us down, were at first distant and superior; +masters were a class, forgotten since sail went out, who had now no prototype +in His Majesty's Service; there was no guide to the standard of association. +Having little, if any, knowledge of merchant-ship practice, naval officers expected +the same many-handed efficiency as in their own service. Crew troubles were +practically unknown in their experience; all coal was 'Best Welsh Navigation'; +all ships, whatever their lading, turned, under helm, apace! Gradually we +learned—as they did. We saw, in practice, that team work and not individual +smartness was what counted in convoy; that, be our understanding of a signal as +definite and clear as the loom of the Craig, it was imperative, for our own safety, +that the reading of out-wing and more distant ships should be as ready and +accurate. In this, our convoy education, the chief among our teachers were the +commodores, R.N. and R.N.R., who came to sea with us, blest, by a happy star, +with <span class="smcap">Tact</span>!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a> +<img src="images/i-220.jpg" width="500" height="343" alt="A CONVOY CONFERENCE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">A CONVOY CONFERENCE</span> +</div> + +<p>So, we learned, and now sit to listen, attentively and with respect, to what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +the King's Harbour Master has to say about our due and timely movements in +forming up in convoy. On him, also, the happy star has shone, and we are conscious +of an undernote that admits we are all good men and true and know our +work. One among us, a junior by his looks, dissents on a movement, and not +all-friendly eyes we turn on him; but he is right, all the same, and the point +he raises is worthy the discussion that clears it. Our ranks are evidence of a +world-wide league of seafarers against German brutality. While his frightfulness +has barred the enemy for ever from sea-brotherhood, it has had effect +in banding the world's seamen in a closer union. We are not alone belligerents +devising measures of warfare; in our international gathering we represent a +greater movement than a council of arms. British in majority, with Americans, +Frenchmen, a Japanese, a Brazilian—we are at war and ruling our conduct +to the sea-menace, but among us there are neutrals come to join our convoy; +peaceful seamen seeking a place with us in fair trade on the free seas. Two +Scandinavian masters and a Spaniard listen with intent preoccupation to the +lecture—a recital in English, familiar to them as the Esperanto of the sea.</p> + +<p>The K.H.M.'s careful and detailed routine has a significance not entirely +connected with our sailing of the morrow; in a way it impresses one with the +extent of our sea-empire. Most of us have taken station as he orders, have all +the manœuvres by rote, but even at this late date, there are those among us, +called from distant seas, to whom the instructions are novel. For them, we say, +the emphasis on clearing hawse overnight, the definition of G.M.T., the exactitude +of zigzag, and the necessity of ready answer to signals. We are old stagers +now, <i>we</i> know all these drills, <i>we</i>— Damn! We, too, are becoming superior! +In turn, the commodore who is to sail with us has his say. Signals and look-out, +the cables of our distance, wireless calls, action guns and smoke-screen, the rubbish-heap, +darkening ship, fog-buoys and hydroplanes, he deals with in a fine, +confident, deep sea-voice. Only on question of the hearing of sound-signals +in fog do we throw our weight about, and we make reminiscent tangents not wholly +connected with the point at issue. Yarn-spinners, courteously recalled from their +digressions, wind up somewhat lamely, and commodore goes on to deal with late +encounters with the enemy in which a chink in our armour was bared. Methods +approved to meet such emergencies are explained, and his part is closed by attention +to orders detailed for convoy dispersal. The commander of the destroyer +escort has a few words for us; a brief detail of the power of his under-water +armament, a request for a 'fair field in action.' Conference comes to an end +when the shipping intelligence officer has explained his routes and given us our +sailing orders.</p> + +<p>Till now we have been actually an hour and a half without smoking, and our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +need is great. As one man we fumble for pipes and tobacco (a few lordly East-Indiamen +flaunt cheroots), and in the fumes and at our ease arrange, in unofficial +ways, the small brotherly measures that may help us at sea.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, <i>Chelmsford</i>, you're my next ahead. Well, say, old man, if it comes +fog, give me your brightest cargo 'cluster' to shine astern—daytime, too—found +it a good——" "Fog, egad! What about fog when we are forming up? +Looked none too clear t' the south'ard as we came ashore!"</p> + +<p>Somewhat late, we realize that not a great deal has been said about weather +conditions for the start-off. The port convoy officer is still about, but all he can +offer is a pious hope and the promise that he will have tugs on hand to help us +out. "No use 'making almanacks' till the time comes," says our Nestor (a +stout old greybeard who has been twice torpedoed). "We shall snake into +column all right, and, anyhow, we're all bound the same way!" "What about +towing one another out?" suggests a junior, and, the matter having been brought +to jest, we leave it at that.</p> + +<p>The caretaker jangles his keys and, collecting our 'pictures,' we go out +to the quayside, where thin rain and a mist shroud the harbour basin, and the dock +warehouses loom up like tall clippers under sail. The coxswain comes, clamping +in heavy sea-boots and an oilskin, to tell that the launch is at the steps, ready to +take us off. Two of us have business to conclude with our agent, and remain +on the jetty to see our fellows crowd into shelter of the hood and the launch back +out. We call cheerfully, one to another, that we shall meet at Bahia or New +York or Calcutta or Miramichi, and the mist takes them.</p> + +<p>Up the ancient cobbled street we come on an old church and, the rain increasing +to a torrent, we shelter at the porch. Who knows, curiosity perhaps, +urges us farther and we step quietly down-level to the old stone-flagged nave. +The light is failing, and the tombs and monuments are dim and austere, the inscriptions +faint and difficult to read. A line of Drakes lie buried here, and tablets +to the memory of old sea-captains (whose bones may lie where tide is) are on the +walls. A sculptured medallion of ships on the sea draws our attention and we +read, with difficulty, for the stone is old and the lines faint and worn.</p> + +<div class='blockquot'> +". . . INTERRED YE BODY OF EDMOND LEC——, FORMERLY COMMANDER +OF HER MAJ—— SHIP YE <i>LINN FRIGOT</i>, 17— . . . A FRENCH +CORVAT FROM WHOM HE PROTECTED A LARGE FLEET OF MERCHANT SHIPS +ALL INTO SAFETY. . . . AND BRAVELY HE GAVE YE ENEMY BATTEL +AND FORCED HIM TO BEAR AWAY WITH MUCH DAMMAGE. . . ." +</div> + +<p>We looked at one another. A good charge to take to sea in 1918! Quietly +we closed the door and came away.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-224.jpg" width="500" height="379" alt="THE OLD HARBOUR, PLYMOUTH" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE OLD HARBOUR, PLYMOUTH</span> +</div> + +<h2>XX</h2> + +<h3>THE SAILING</h3> + + +<h3><br />FOG, AND THE TURN OF THE TIDE</h3> + +<div class='cap'>RAINY weather overnight has turned to fog, and the lighthouse on the +Point greets breaking dawn with raucous half-minute bellows. Less +regular and insistent, comes a jangle of anchor-bells, breaking in from time +to time, ship after ship repeating, then subsiding a while until the syren of a moving +tugboat—as if giving time and chorus to the din—sounds a blast, and sets the +look-outs on the anchored ships to their clangour again. From the open sea +distant reedy notes tell that the minesweeping flotilla is out and at work, clearing +the course for draught of the out-bound convoy, and searching the misty sea-channels +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>for all the enemy may have moored there. The 'gateships' of the boom +defences rasp out jarring discords to warn mariners of their bobbling floats and +nets. Inshore the one sustained and solemn toll of bell at the pier-head measures +out time to the sum of a dismal dayspring.</div> + +<p>By all the sound of it, it is ill weather for the sailing of a convoy. In time +of peace there would not be a keel moving within harbour limits through such a +pall. "Call me when the weather clears," would be the easy order, and we +would turn the more cosily to blanket-bay, while the anchor-watch would pace +athwart overhead, in good content, to await the raising of the curtain. Still +and all, it is yet early to assess the rigour of the fog. Sound-signals, started +late in the coming of it, became routine and mechanical, and persist—through +clearing—till their need is more than over. The half-light of breaking day +has still to brighten and diffuse; who knows; perhaps, after all, this +may be only that dear and fond premise of hopeful sailormen—the pride o' +the morning!</p> + +<p>The elder fishermen (the lads are out after the mines) have no such optimism. +Roused by the habits of half a century, they turn out for a pipe and, from window +and doorway, assure one another that their idle 'stand-by' decreed by harbour-master +for outgoing of the convoy, is little hardship on a morning like this. +"'Ark t' them bells," they say, thumb over shoulder. "All 'ung up. Thick +as an 'edge out there, an' no room t' back an' fill. There won't be no move +i' th' Bay till 'arf-ebb, my oath!"</p> + +<p>But they are wrong in that, if right in their estimation of the weather and +congestion in the roads, for we are at war, and the port convoy officer, hurrying +to his launch, is already sniffing for the bearings of the leader of the line. Prudently +he has mapped their berths as they came in to anchor, and has, at least, a +serviceable, if rough, chart to guide him on his rounds.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a> +<img src="images/i-226.jpg" width="600" height="227" alt="CONVOY SAILING FROM PLYMOUTH SOUND" title="" /> +<span class="caption">CONVOY SAILING FROM PLYMOUTH SOUND</span> +</div> + +<p>So far there are no reports from the sea-patrols that would call for an instant +alteration of the routes, and for that the P.C.O. has a thankful heart. A 'hurrah's +nest,' a panic on Exchange, a block at the Bank crossing, would be feeble +comparison to the confusion he might look for in a combination of dense fog, +counter-mandates, and a congested roadstead, for, even now, the ships to form +up the next convoy are thrashing their way down the coast and (Article XVI +of the Rule of the Road being lightly held by in war-time) may be expected off +the 'gateships' before long. To them, as yet, the port is 'closed,' but every +distant wail from seaward sets him anxiously wondering whether it be a minesweeper +signalling a turn to his twin or a distant deep-waterman, early on the +tide, standing in for the land. The sailor's morning litany—"Who wouldn't +sell a farm and go to sea"—is near to him as he turns up the collar of his oilskin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +and gives a rough course to his coxswain. "South, s'west, and ease her when +you hear th' Bell buoy. <i>British Standard</i> first—she's lying close south of it." +Turning out, the picket-boat sets her bows to the grey wall of mist and her wash and +roundel of the screws (that on a clear busy day would scarce be noted) sound +loud and important in the silence of the bay. The coxswain, cunning tidesman, +steers a good course and reduces speed with the first toll of the buoy. The +clamour of its iron tongue seems out of all relation to the calm sea and the cause +is soon revealed. Silently, closely in line ahead, four grey destroyers break +the mist, fleet swiftly across the arc of vision ahead, and disappear. "Near +it," says the coxswain (and now sounds a blast of <i>his</i> whistle). "Them fellers +ain't 'arf goin' it!" Cautiously he rounds the buoy, noting the gaslight crown +shining yet, though pale and sickly in the growing day. Out now, in seven +fathoms, the lingering inshore fog has given place to a mist, through which the +ships loom up in sombre grey silhouette. Full speed for a turn or two brings +the launch abeam of a huge oil-tanker that, sharp to the tick of Greenwich +Mean Time, already has her Convoy Distinguishing Flags hoisted and the windlass +panting white steam to raise anchor. A small flag in the rigging assures the +P.C.O. that the pilots have boarded in good time, and it is with somewhat of +growing satisfaction that he hails the bridge and asks the captain to 'carry +on!'</p> + +<p>Doubts and hesitancies that may have lingered in the prudent captain's +mind are dispelled by the P.C.O.'s appearance. "It is decided, then, that the +orders stand," and there is at least a certain relief in his tone as he orders, "Weigh +anchor!"</p> + +<p>The <i>British Standard</i> is deep-loaded, in contrast to the usual empty war-time +outward bound, but her lading is clean salt water, no less, run into her +compartments on the sound theory that Fritz, by a strafe, may only 'change the +water in the tanks.' Homeward, from the west, there will be no such fine assurance, +for a torpedo may well set her ablaze from stem to stern, and the enemy +takes keen and peculiar delight in such <i>Schrecklichkeit</i>. Still, there is little thought +to that; <i>British Standard</i> is to lead the line, and her anchor comes to the hawse +and she backs, then comes ahead again, swinging slowly under helm towards +the sound of 'gateships'' hand-horns. High on the stern emplacement her +men are uncovering her gun and clearing the ranges, and the long grey barrel is +trained out to what will be the sun-glare side of the first tangent of her sea-course. +Close astern of her comes <i>War Ordnance</i>, her pushful young captain having taken +heed of the sounds of <i>Standard's</i> weighing. "Good work," says the P.C.O. +cheerfully, and cons his rough chart for the whereabouts of Number Three.</p> + +<p>As though the devil in the wind had heard him, down comes the fog again,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +dense this time, a thick blanket-curtain of it that shuts off the misty stage on +which the prompter had hoped, passably, to complete his dispatch of the fleet.</p> + +<p>The compass again. "East 'll do," and the launch slips through the grey +of it. All around in the roadstead the clank of cable linking over the spurs, +and hiss and thrust of power windlasses are indication that <i>British Standard's</i> +movement has given signal to weigh, that it is plain to the others—"Convoy +will proceed in execution of previous orders." A propellor, thrashing awash +in trial, looms up through the fog ahead, but 'East' has brought the launch +wide of her mark, and <i>Massilia</i> is answer to the P.C.O.'s hail. <i>Massilia</i> is +Number Four, but needs must when the fog drives, so he advises the captain +to get under way and head out.</p> + +<p>Number Three has stalled badly and is hot in a burst of graceless profanity +from bridge to forecastle-head, and (increasing in volume and blood-red emphasis) +from there to the chain-locker. There is a foul stow. Her nip-cheese +builders have pared the locker-space to the mathematical limit (to swell her +carrying tonnage), and the small crew that her nip-cheese owners have put on +her are unable to range the tiers. Twenty fathoms of chain remain yet under +water, the locker is jammed, and the mate, roughed (and through a megaphone, +too), from the bridge, is calling on strange deities to take note that, 'of all the +damn ships he ever sailed in. . . .' The pilot calls out from the bridge +that they are going to pay out and restow, and the convoy officer, blessing the +forethought that had bade him send off Number Four, swings off to speed the +succession.</p> + +<p>High water has made and the tide ebbs, swinging the ships yet anchored +till they head inshore, and adding to the pilots' worry of narrowed vision the need +to turn short round in crowded waters. For this the tugs have been sent out in +readiness, and the convoy launch has a busy mission in casting about to find +and set them to the task of towing the laggards round. It is nothing easy, +in the fog and confusion of moving ships, to back the <i>Seahorse</i> in and harness +her by warp and hawser, but with every vessel, canted, that straightens to her +course, the press is lightened by so much sea-room cleared. Gradually the hail +and counter-hail, hoarse order and repeat, whistle-signals, protest of straining +tow-ropes, die away with the lessening note of each sea-going propeller.</p> + +<p>To Number Three again, last of the line and out of her station, the convoy +officer seeks to return. The fog is denser than ever, and the echoes of the bay, +now transferred to seaward, augment the uneasy short-blast mutterings where +the ships, closed up at the narrow 'gateway,' are slowing and backing to drop +their pilots. In his traverse of the anchorage the coxswain has lost bearing of +the <i>Cinderella</i> and steers a zigzag course through the murk. The sun has risen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +brightening the overhead but proving (in sea glare and misty daze) an ally +to the veil. No sound of heaving cable or thunder of escaping steam that would +mark a vessel hurrying to get her anchor and make up for time lost is to be heard. +Frankly puzzled, the coxswain stops his engines. "Must 'a sailed, sir," he says +at length. "There ain't nothin' movin' this end o' th' bay."</p> + +<p>The convoy officer nods. "<i>Mmm!</i> She may have gone on, while we were +dragging <i>Marmion</i> clear of th' stern of that 'blue funnel' boat. A good job. +Well, carry on! Head in—think that was th' pier-head bell we heard abeam!"</p> + +<p>At easy speed the launch turns and coxswain bends to peer at the swinging +compass-card. As one who has held out to a job o' work completed, the P.C.O. +stretches his arms and yawns audibly and whole-hearted. "A good bath now +and a bite o' breakfast and— Oh, hell! What's that astern?"</p> + +<p>The turn in the wake has drawn his eye to a grey blur in the glare of the +mist. An anchored ship!</p> + +<p>Keeping the helm over, the coxswain swings a wide circle and steadies on +the mark. "Damn if it ain't her!" he says, as the launch draws on.</p> + +<p>The <i>Cinderella</i> lies quiet with easy harbour smoke rising straight up from +her funnel and no windlass party grouped on the forecastle-head; quiet, as if fog +and convoy and the distant reverberations of her sister ships held no concern +for her. To the P.C.O.'s surprised and somewhat indignant hail there is returned +a short-phrased assurance that the ruddy anchor is down—and is going to remain +down! "Think I'm going out in this to hunt my place in the pack? No damn +fear!" says the captain. "Why, I can scarce see who's hailing me, less a line +o' ships barging along!"</p> + +<p>The pilot, in a tone that suggests he has already 'put out an oar'—with +little effect—joins in to reassure. "Clearin' outside now, captain. I haven't +heard th' lighthouse syren for twenty minutes or more! The fog'll be hangin' +here in harbour a bit."</p> + +<p>"Aye, aye! But it's here we are, pilot—not outside yet. A clearing out +there doesn't show us th' leading marks, and I'll not risk it. I've no fancy for +nosing into th' nets and booms. I know where I am here, and I won't stir a +turn—unless"—bending over the light screen towards the launch—"unless +you lead ahead!"</p> + +<p>The convoy officer is somewhat embarrassed. Certainly the weather is as +thick as a hedge; there is no 'drill' of convoy practice that empowers him +to order risks to be taken—navigation of the ships is not his province. It is +enough for him to arrange and advise and assist. If he leads out and anything +<i>does</i> happen?</p> + +<p>Still, it is maddening to think of one hitch in a good programme—'almost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +a record, too!' He looks at his watch and notes that only fifty minutes have +elapsed since <i>British Standard</i> weighed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, hell! Right, captain," he says. "Heave up and I'll give you a lead +out to clear weather!"</p> + + +<h3><br />'IN EXECUTION OF PREVIOUS ORDERS'</h3> + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">We</span> are Number Four in the line; <i>Vick—beer—code</i> is our address, and +we steam somewhat faster than the fog warrants to keep touch with our +next ahead. She, in turn, is packing close up on the leader, and if, in the +strict ruling of a 'line ahead,' we are stepping out a trifle wide, at least +we keep in company. The farthest we can see is the thrash of foam, white +in the grey, of <i>War Ordnance's</i> propeller—a good moving mark, that, though +faint, draws the eye by the lead of broken water. Nearer, we have a steering-guide +in her hydroplane, cutting and dancing under the bows and throwing a +sightly feather of spray. The sea is flat calm, save for our leader's wake—a +broad ribbon of troubled water through which we steer. Our eyes, now limited +in range by the fog, seem to focus readily on trifles; for want of major objects, +roving glances take in driftwood and ship-litter, and turn on minute patches of +seaweed with an interest that a wider range would dissipate. Spurring, black-crested +puffins come at us from under the misty pall, floating still, as if set in +glass, till our bow wash plays out and sets them, squawking in distress, to an +ungainly splutter on the surface, or dipping swiftly to show white under-feathers +and the widening rings of their dive.</div> + +<p>Astern of us, a medley of sound and steering-signals marks the gateway of +the harbour where our followers are striving to drop their pilots and join in +convoy; one loud trumpeter is drawing up at speed and showing, by the frequency +of her whistle-blasts, anxiety to sight our wake. The lighthouse syren +roars a warning of shoal-water out on the landward beam, a raucous discord +of two weird notes. These, with the rare mournful wail of our leader, are our +guiding sounds, but we have sight now and then of the destroyer escort passing +and turning mistily on the rim of our narrowed vision, like swift sheep-dogs +folding the stragglers of a scattered flock.</p> + +<p>The fog, that settled dense and deep as we got under way, shows a little +sign and promise of thinning, a small portent that draws our eyes to the lift +above the funnel. There is no wind, but our smoke-wrack, after curving with +our speed to masthead height, seems turned by light upper draughts to the eastward.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +The sun has risen and peers mistily over the top of the grey curtain +that surrounds us. The day is warming up. Pray fortune, a stout west wind +may come out of it all, to clear the muck and give us one good honest look at +one another, when we are due for that 'six-point' turn to the south'ard!</p> + +<p>To keep in station on our pacemaker, we call for constant alterations in the +speed—a range of revolutions that rattles up scale and down, like first lessons +on the piano, and sets the engineers below to a plaintive verge of tears. The +junior officer at the voice-pipe looks reflective, after each order he passes, as +though comparing the quality of the reply with the last sulphurous rejoinder. +The fog has added to our starting vagaries and postponed a happy understanding, +but we shall do better later on when we have gauged and discovered—and pitied—the +tiresome vacillations of the <i>other</i> ships!</p> + +<p>Meantime, as best we can, we chase the sheering hydroplane ahead that seems +endowed with every chameleon gift of the classic gods. It vanishes, invisible, +in a drift of fog, and though we con a course as steady as a cat on eggs, a clearing +comes to show us its white feather broad on the bows and edging off at an angle +to dip under the thick of the mist! It drops down to us; we sheer aside and +slow a pace, and it lingers and dallies sportively abeam. It slips suddenly ahead, +with a rush and a rip, as though, like a child among the daisies, it recalls a parent +in advance.</p> + +<p>The trumpeter astern has come up and sighted our wake and fog-buoy, and +the clamour of her questing syren is stilled. She looms up close on our quarter, +a huge menacing bulk of sheering steel with the foam thundering under her +bows and curling and shattering on her grey hull. <i>They</i> have great difficulty +in adjusting to our speed. She slows and fades back into the mist, grows again +from gloomy shadow to threatening detail, steadies at a point for a few minutes, +and resumes the round of her previous motions in irritating cycle. "Whatever +can be the matter with them?" (We take the stout point of a position as steady +as the Rock, and grow scornful of their clumsy efforts to keep station.) "<i>Huh!</i> +These gold-laced London men! Why can't they steady up a bit? Why can't +they——" We note that our steering-mark and the wash of <i>War Ordnance's</i> +propeller are no longer in sight ahead, and set in to count the beats of the +screw. ". . . t'-one, t'-two, t'-three, t'— <i>Hell!</i> Didn't we order seventy? +Go full speed!" Jumping to the tube, the junior attends. "<i>I</i> said seven-owe, +sir, but he thought I said six-four! Says th' bl—, th' engines working, sir—can't +hear properly!"</p> + +<p>Grudgingly, as though loath to give us our sight again, the fog clears. The +first of the tantalizing rift in the curtain is signalled by the high look-out, who +calls that he can see the topmasts of our near neighbours piercing the low-lying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +vapours. The sun shines through, showing now and then a clear-cut limb in +place of the luminous misshapen brightening that has been with us since sunrise. +In fits and starts the fog thins, and thickens again, at the will of wandering airs.</p> + +<p>A west wind comes away, freshens, and stirs the vapour till it whips close +overhead in wraiths and streamers, raises here and there a fold on the distant +horizon, then dies again. Growing in vigour, the breeze returns; a gallant +breath that ruffles the smooth of the sea and sweeps the round of it, routing +the lingering flurries that settle, dust-like, when the mass is cleared.</p> + +<p>The clearing of our outlook produces a curious confusion to the eye. We have +become accustomed to a limited range in sight, and the sudden change to distant +vision, in which there is no standard of position, no mark to judge by, effects +an illusion as of a photographer's plate developing. Fragments, wisps, and +sections of the sea-rim appear, breaking through as the fog lifts, and seeming +strangely high and foreign in position. Topmasts and a funnel-wreath of black +smoke loom up almost in mid-air; the water-line of a ship's hull grows to sight, +low in the plane as though dangerously close. Distant, obscure, and blurred +formations sharpen suddenly to detail and show our destroyer escort as almost +suspended in mirage, floating in air. Piece by piece, the plate develops in sensible +gradation, fitting and joining with exactitude; the ships ahead take up their +true proportions, the sea-horizon runs to a definite hard line. Mast and funnel +and spar stand out against the piled and shattered fog-bank, whose rear-guard +lingers, sinking but slowly and sullenly, on the rim of the eastern horizon.</p> + +<p>The fog cleared, and a busy seascape in sight, we shake ourselves together +and take heed of appearances. Our convoy signal hangs damp and twisted +on the halyards, and needs to be cleared to blow out for recognition; the mirrored +arc-lamp that we turned astern to aid the trumpeter is switched out. With the +fog-buoy we are less urgent; it will be time enough to haul it aboard when we +are assured the new-born breeze is healthy and likely to remain with us. The +press of work about the decks has lessened with the hawsers and docking gear +stowed away. Sea-trim is the order now—a war sea-trim, in which the boats, +swung outboard and ready for instant use, rafts tilted to a launching angle, +hoses rigged to lead water, and crew at the guns, form a constant reminder +(if that be needed) of lurking under-water peril. In marked contrast to less +exciting days, when we could afford to disregard whatever might go on behind +us, we place look-outs to face all ways. The enemy may gamble on our occupation +with the view ahead, but, with a new war wariness, we have grown eyes +to search the sea astern.</p> + +<p>In the clearing weather we become sensitive to the strict and proper reading +of our sailing orders. There must be no more faults in the voice-tube to let us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +down from confidence in our right to a sudden sense of guilt. We adjust our +station in the line by sextant angles of the leader, measuring his height to fractions, +and set an ear to the note of our engine-beats to ensure a steady gait.</p> + +<p>Clearing our motes, we turn a purged and critical eye on our fellows, now all +clear of the mist, and steaming in sight. To far astern, where the land lies and +the sun plays on wet roof and flashing window-pane, a long line of ships snakes +out in procession, their smoke blowing and curling merrily alee to join the cumulus +of the foundering fog-banks. There are gaps and kinks in our formation +that would, perhaps, call for angry signals in a line of battle, but the laggards +are closing up in hasty order to right the wayward tricks of sound and distance +in the fog. If not quite ruled and ordered to figures of our text, at least we +conform to the spirit, and are all at sea together, steering out on our ventures.</p> + +<p>Our distance run, <i>British Standard</i> puts her helm over and turns out. Forewarned, +all eyes have been focused on the line of her masts, and her sheer gives +signal for a general cut and shuffle. We change partners. Curtsying to full +rudder pressure, we join the dance, and swing to her measure, adjusting speed +to mark time while other important leaders of columns draw up abeam. The +flat bright sea is cut and curved by thrashing wakes as the convoy turns south. +Ahead and abeam, round and about, the destroyers wheel and turn, fan in +graceful formation and swerve quickly on their patrolling courses.</p> + +<p>We are less expert in the figures of our cotillion. It cannot be pretended +that we slip into our convoy stations with anything approaching their speed +and precision. We are too varied in our types, in turning periods, in the range +of our dead-weight, to manœuvre alike. Most of us have but a slender margin +of speed to draw on, and, 'all bound the same way,' the spurt to an assigned +position proves the stern a long chase. The fog, at starting, has thrown many +of us out of our proper turn, and we zigzag, unofficially, this way and that, +to gain our stations without reduction of speed. In the confusion to our surface +eyes, there is this consoling thought—that the same perplexing evolutions +(calling for frequent appeals to the high gods for enlightenment as to the 'capers' +of the <i>other</i> fellows) have, at least, no better meaning in the reflected angles of +a periscope.</p> + +<p>Now the hum and drone that has puzzled us in the fog reveals itself as the +note of a covey of seaplanes searching the waters ahead. They have come out +at first sign of a clearing, and now fly low, trimming and banking in their flight +like gannets at the fishing. A winking electric helio on one of them spits out a +message to the leader of the destroyers, and she flashes answer and acknowledgment +as readily as though the seaplane were a sister craft. A huge coastal airship +thunders out across the land to join our forces. She grows to the eye as though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +expanding visibly, and noses down to almost masthead height in a sharp and +steady-governed decline; abeam, she turns broad on, manœuvring with ease +and grace, and the sunlight on her silvered sides glints and sparkles purely, +as though to shame the motley camouflage of the ships below.</p> + +<p>The commodore poises the baton as his ship draws up to her station. Till +now we have steamed and steered 'in execution of previous orders' and, considering +the dense fog and the press of ships at the anchorage and pilot-grounds, +we have not been idle or neglectful. Now we are in sea order, and, with the ships +closing up in formation, we attend our senior officer's signals as to course and +speed. A string of flags goes up, fluttering to the yard of his ship, and we fret +at the clumsy fingers that cannot get a similar hoist as quickly to ours. Anon, +on all the ships, a gay setting of flags repeats the message, and we stand by to +take measure and sheer of a tricky zigzag, at tap of the baton.</p> + +<p>The line of colour droops and fades quickly to the signalman's gathering; +the convoy turns and swings into the silver-foil of the sun-ray.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-236.jpg" width="500" height="257" alt="INWARD BOUND" title="" /> +<span class="caption">INWARD BOUND</span> +</div> + +<h2>XXI</h2> + +<h3>THE NORTH RIVER</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>THE broad surface of the Hudson is scored by passage of craft of all trades +and industries. Tugs and barges crowd the waterway in unending +succession, threading their courses in a maze of harbour traffic; high-sided +ferry-boats surge out from their slips and angle across the tide—crab-wise—towards +the New Jersey shore; laden ocean steamers hold to the deeps of the +fairway on their passage to the sea. Up stream and down, back and across, +sheering in to the piers and wharves, the harbour traffic seems constantly to be +scourged and hurried by the lash of an unseen taskmaster. The swift outrunning +current adds a movement to the busy plying of the small craft—a +hastening sweep to their progress, that suggests a driving power below +the yellow tide. The stir of it! The thrash of screw and lapping of discoloured +water, the shriek of impatient whistle-blasts, the thunder of escaping +steam!</div> + +<p>As we approach from seaward, there is need for caution. The railway tugmen—who +live by claims for damages from ocean steamers—are alert and determined +that we shall not pass without a suitable parting of their hawsers, damage +to barges, strain to engines and towing appliances. Off the Battery, they sidle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +to us in coy appeal, but we carry bare steerageway. As the pilot says: "Thar +ain't nothin' doin'!" We disengage their ardent approach, and make a slow +progress against the tide to our loading-berth. There, we drop in towards the +pier-head and angle our bows alongside the guarding fenders. A flotilla of panting +tugboats takes up station on our inshore side and 'punches' into us—head +on—to shove our stern round against the full pressure of the strong ebb tide. +The little vessels seem absurdly small for their task. They 'gittagoin',' as +instructed by the pilot, and wake the dockside echoes with the strain of their +energy. White steam spurts from the exhausts with every thrust of their power. +The ferry-boats turning in to their slips come through the run of a combined +stern wash that sets them on the boarding with a heavy impact. Power tells. +Our stern wavers, then we commence to bear up-stream in a perceptible measure. +The Hudson throws a curl of eddying water to bar our progress, but we pass +up—marking our progress by the water-side of the west shore. Anon, the +thunder of the tugs' pulsations eases, then stops: they back away, turn, and +speed off on a quest for other employment—while we move ahead, out of the +run of the tide, and make fast at the pier.</p> + +<p>Our ship is keenly in demand. The dockers are there, ready with gear and +tackle to board and commence work. The wharf superintendent hails us from +the dockside before the warps are fast. He is anxious to know the amount of +ballast coal to be shifted from the holds before he can commence loading. "Toosday +morning, capt'n," he adds, as reason for his anxiety—"Toosday morning—an' +she's gotta go!" Tuesday, eh! And this is Saturday morning! They +will have to hustle to do it.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a> +<img src="images/i-238.jpg" width="600" height="426" alt="A TRANSPORT LOADING" title="" /> +<span class="caption">A TRANSPORT LOADING</span> +</div> + +<p>'Hustle'—as once he told us—is the superintendent's maiden name. Already +the narrow water-space between us and our neighbour is jammed tight by laden +barges, brought in to await our coming. Billets of steel, rough-cast shells, copper +ingots, bars of lead and zinc are piled ready for acceptance. The shed on our +inshore tide is packed by lighter and more perishable cargo, all standing to hand +for shipment. Preparation for our rapid dispatch is manifest and complete. +Before the pilot is off the ship with his docket signed, the blocks of our derricks +are rattling and the stevedores are setting up their gear for an immediate start. +Barred, on the sea-passage, from communication by wireless, we have been unable +to give a timely advice of our condition to the dock. The factor of the coal to +be shifted—till now unknown to them—is the first of many difficulties. We +have no cargo to discharge (having crossed in ballast trim), but—the storms of +the North Atlantic calling for a weight to make us seaworthy—we have a lading +of coal sufficient to steam us back to our home port. This has all to be raised +from the holds and stowed in the bunker spaces: the holds must be cleaned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +for food-stuffs: for grain in bulk there is carpenter-work in fitting the midship +boards to ensure that our cargo shall not shift. Tuesday morning seems absurdly +near!</p> + +<p>With a thud and jar to clear the stiffening of a voyage's inaction, our deck +winches start in to their long heave that shall only end with the closing of the +hatches on a laden cargo. The barges haul alongside at the holds that are ready +for stowage and loading begins. The slings of heavy billets pass regularly across +the deck and disappear into the void of the open hatchways. In the swing and +steady progression there seems an assurance that we shall keep the sailing date, +but our energy is measured by the capacity of the larger holds. In them there +is the bulk of fuel to be handled. The superintendent concentrates the efforts +of his gangs on this main issue: the loading of the smaller compartments is only +useful in relieving the congestion of the barges overside.</p> + +<p>Under his direction the coalmen set to work at their hoists and stages and +soon have the baskets swinging with loads from the open hatchways. The coal +thunders down the chutes to the waiting barges, and raises a smother of choking +dust. The language of South Italy rings out in the din and clatter. "Veera, +veera," roars the stageman (not knowing that he is passing an ancient order on +a British ship). It is a fine start. Antonio and Pasquali and their mates are +fresh: they curse and praise one another alternately and impartially: they +seem in a fair way to earn their tonnage bonus by having the holds cleared before +the morning.</p> + +<p>It is almost like an engagement in arms. Good leadership is needed. There +are grades and classes in the army of dockers; groups as clearly specialized in +their work as the varied units that form an army corps. Italian labourers handle +the coal; coloured men are employed for the heavy and rough cargo work; the +Irish are set to fine stowage. There is little infringement of the others' work. +Artillery and infantry are not more set apart in their special duties than the +grades of the dockers. Certainly there is a rivalry between the coloured men +and the Irish—the line that divides the cargo is perhaps lightly drawn. "Hey! +You nigger! You gitta hell out o' this," says Mike. The coloured man bides +his time. The thunder of the winches pauses for an instant—he shouts down +the hatchway: "Mike! Ho, Mike!" An answering bellow sounds from below. +"Ah say, Mike! When yo' gwine back hom' t' fight fo' King Gawge?"</p> + +<p>Sunday morning, the 'macaroni' gangs knock off work for a term. The holds +are cleared, but our fuel has again to be hove up from the barges and stowed in +the bunkers. That can be done while loading is in progress. Meantime—red-eyed +and exhausted—the coalmen troop ashore and leave the ship to one solitary +hour of Sunday quiet. At seven the turmoil of what the superintendent calls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +a 'fair start' begins. Overnight a floating-tower barge for grain elevation has +joined the waiting list of our attendant lighters. She warps alongside and turns +her long-beaked delivery-pipes on board; yellow grain pours through and spreads +evenly over the floor-space of our gaping holds. Fore and aft we break into a +full measure of activity. The loading of the cargo is not our only preparation +for the voyage. The fittings of the 'tween-decks, thrown about in disorder by +the coal-gangs, have to be reconstructed and the decks made ready for troops. +Cleaning and refitting operations go on in the confusion of cargo work: conflicting +interests have to be reconciled—the more important issues expedited—the +fret of interfering actions turned to other channels. At the shore end of the +gangways there is riot among the workers. Stores and provisions are delivered +by the truckmen with an utter disregard for any convenience but their own. +The narrow roadway through the shed is blocked and jammed by horse and +motor wagons that, their load delivered, can find no way of egress. Cargo work +on the quayside comes to a halt for want of service. The dockers roar abuse +at the truckmen, the truckmen—in intervals of argument with their fellows—return +the dockers' obloquy with added embellishment. The 'house-that-Jack-built' +situation is cleared by the harassed pier-foreman. The shed gates are +drawn across: outside the waiting charioteers stand by, their line extended to +a block on the Twenty-Third Street cars.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The roar and thrust and rattle of the straining winches ceases on Monday +evening. We are fully stowed: even our double-bottom tanks—intended for +water-ballast alone—carry a load of fuel oil to help out the difficulties of transport. +The superintendent goes around with his chest thrown out and draws +our attention to the state of affairs—the ship drawing but eighteen inches short +of her maximum draught, and the 'tween-decks cleared and fitted. "Fifty-four +working hours, capt'n," he says proudly. It is no mean work!</p> + +<p>The silence of the ship, after the din and uproar of our busy week-end, seems +uncanny. The dock is cleared of all our attendant craft, and the still backwater +is markedly in contrast to the churned and troubled basin that we had known. +From outside the dock a distant subdued murmur of traffic on the streets comes +to us. Cross-river ferries cant into a neighbouring slip, and the glow of their +brilliant lights sets a reflection on the high facades of the water-front buildings. +Overhead, the sky is alight with the warm irradiance of the great city. Ship-life +has become quiescent since the seamen bundled and put away their gear +after washing decks. Only the dynamos purr steadily, and an occasional tattoo +on the stokehold plates tells of the firemen on duty to raise steam. In the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +unfamiliar quiet of the night and absence of movement in the dock there is +countenance to a mood of expectancy. It seems unreasonable that we should +so lie idle after the past days of strenuous exertion in preparing for sea. The +flood in the North River, dancing under the waterside lights, invites us out to +begin the homeward voyage. Why wait?</p> + +<p>We are not yet ready. In our lading we have store of necessities to carry +across the sea. Food, munitions and furniture of war, copper, arms, are packed +tightly in the holds: power-fuel for our warships lies in our tanks. There is +still a further burthen to be embarked—we wait a cargo of clear-headed, strong-limbed, +young citizens bound east to bear arms in the Crusade.</p> + +<p>They come after midnight. There are no shouts and hurrahs and flag-waving. +A high ferry-boat crosses from the west shore and cants into the berth alongside +of us. The dock shed, now clear of goods, is used for a final muster. Encumbered +by their heavy packs, they line out to the gangways and march purposely +on board. The high-strung mimicry of jest and light heart that one would have +looked for is absent. There is no boyish call and counter-call to cloak the +tension of the moment. Stolidly they hitch their burdens to an easier posture, +say '<i>yep</i>' to the call of their company officer, and embark.</p> + +<p>The troops on board, we lose no time in getting under way. Orders are +definite that we should pass through the booms of the Narrows at daybreak, +and join convoy in the Lower Bay with the utmost dispatch. We back out into +the North River, turn to meet the flood-tide, and steer past the high crown of +Manhattan.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-243.jpg" width="500" height="309" alt="A CONVOY IN THE ATLANTIC" title="" /> +<span class="caption">A CONVOY IN THE ATLANTIC</span> +</div> + +<h2>XXII</h2> + +<h3>HOMEWARDS</h3> + + +<h3><br />THE ARGONAUTS</h3> + +<div class='cap'>THE boat guard (one post, section A) stir and grow restive as the hour of +their relief draws on. Till now they have accepted wet quarters, the +reeling ship, black dark night with fierce squalls of rain and sleet, as all +a part of the unalterable purgatory of an oversea voyage. With a prospect +of an end to two hours' spell of acute discomfort, of hot 'kawfee,' dry clothes, +and a snug warm bunk, their spirits rise, and they show some liveliness. Muffled +to the ear-tips in woollens and heavy sodden greatcoats, their rifles slung awkwardly +across the bulge of ill-fitting cork life-belts, they shift in lumbering movement +from foot to foot, or pace—two steps and a turn—between the boat-chocks +of their post. A thunder of shattering salt spray lashes over from break of a +sea on the foredeck, and they dodge and dive for such poor shelter as the wing +of the bridge affords.</div> + +<p>Scraps of their protest to the fates carry to our post in breaks of the wind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +"Aw, you guys! Say! Wisha was back 'n li'l old N'yok, ringin' th' dial 'n a +Twanny-Thoid Street car!" "Whaddya mean—a Scotch highball? Gee! +I gotta thoist f'r all th' wet we soak!" "Bettcha Heinie's goin'a pay <i>me</i> cents +an' dallers f'r this!" ". . . an' a job claenin' me roifle. . . . th' sargint, +be damn but, he . . ."</p> + +<p>"Cut it! Less talk 'round there!" orders their duty officer from somewhere +in the darkness; the talk ceases, though stamp and bustle of expectant relief +persist, and we are recalled to survey and reflection on the gloom ahead.</p> + +<p>Midnight now, and no sign of a change! Anxiously we scan sea and sky +for hope or a promise—not a token! A squall of driving sleet has passed over, +and has left the outlook moderately clear, but a quick-rising bank of hard clouds +in the nor'east threatens another, and a heavier, by the look, soon to follow. +A moonless night, not a star shines through the sullen upper clouds to mark even +a flying break in the lift of it. A hopeless turn for midnight, showing no relief, +no prospect!</p> + +<p>Ahead, the dark bulk of our column leader sways and thrashes through the +spiteful easterly sea, throwing the wash broad out and taking the spray high over +bow and funnel. In turn, we lurch and drive at the same sea that has stirred +her, and find it with strength enough to lash over and fill the fore-deck abrim. +Weighed down forward, we throw our stern high, and the mad propeller thrashes +in air, jarring every bolt and rivet in her. We cant to windward, joggling in an +uneasy lurch, then throw swiftly on a sudden list that frees the decks of the +encumbering water. We ease a pace or two as the propeller finds solid sea +to churn, steady, then gather way to meet the next green wall. With it the +squall breaks and lashes furiously over us, driving the icy slants of hard sleet +to our face, cutting at our eyes in vicious persistence. Joined to the wind-burst, +a heavy sea shatters on fore-end of the bridge, and ring of the steel bulkhead +sounds in with the crash of broken water that floods on us.</p> + +<p>In this succession the day and half the night have passed. No 'let-up' +in the round of it. Furious wind-bursts marking time on the face of a steady +gale. Rain—and now sleet. Sleet! Who ever heard of icy sleet in North +Atlantic, this time of the year? Gad! Every cursed thing seems to weigh in +against us on this voyage! The weather seems in league with the enemy to +baulk our passage. Every cursed thing! Head winds and heavy seas all the +way. Fog! These horse transports having to heave-to, and forcing the rest +of the convoy to head up and mark their damned time! And now this, just +when we were looking for a 'slant' to make the land! Maddening!</p> + +<p>The bridge is astir with the change of the watch. A fine job they make of +it! Like a burst of damned schoolboys! Oilskin-clad clumsy ruffians barging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +up the ladders, trampling and stumbling in their heavy sea-boots, across and +about, peering to find their mates! Are they all blind? Why can't they +arrange set posts for eight bells? Why can't they look where—"Th' +light, damn you! Dowse that light! <i>Huh!</i> Some blasted idiot foul of +that binnacle-screen again! Th' way things are done on this ship! Egad! +Would think we were safe in th' Ship Canal, instead of dodging submar——" +A <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'slatt'">slat</ins> of driving spray cuts over and we dip quickly under edge of the weather-screen.</p> + +<p>The second officer arrives to stand his watch, and the Third, who goes below, +is as damnably cheerful and annoying as the other is dour. "North, —ty-four +east, th' course. She's turning seven-six just now, but you'll have to reduce +shortly—drawing up on our next ahead. Seven-three or four sh'd keep her +in station. <i>Neleus</i> ahead there, two cables. Rotten weather all th' watch. +Squalls, my hat! There's another big 'un making up now! Th' Old Man +over there—like a bear with a sore—raisin' hell 'bout——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, a—ll right! Needn't make a song and dance of it! North, —ty-four +east? Right!" Picking up binoculars, the Second scans the black of it +ahead, as though now definitely set for business.</p> + +<p>The watch is taken over and all seems settled, but the Third is not yet completely +happy. He gloats a while over the Second's gloomy outlook, and yawns +in that irritating <i>arpeggio</i>, the foretaste of a good sound sleep. "Oh, d'ya read +in orders 'bout th' zigzag for th' morning watch?—a new stunt, fours and sixes; +start in at——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, g'rr out! How can a man keep a watch, you chewin' th' rag? Yes, +I—read—the orders!" <i>S-snap!</i></p> + +<p>"<i>Huh!</i> A pair of them!" It comes to us that something will have to be +said about the way the damned bridge is relieved in this ship!</p> + +<p>Into the chart-room, to fumble awkwardly for light ('<i>T'tt!</i> That switch +out of order again!') and search for a portent in the jeering glassy face of +the aneroid. <i>Tip, tip, whap!</i> The cursed thing is falling still. 'Twenty-nine +owe two—half an inch since ten o'clock! Whatever can be behind all this? +That damn glass was never right, anyway!'</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 305px;"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a> +<img src="images/i-246.jpg" width="305" height="600" alt="THE BOWS OF THE KASHMIR DAMAGED BY COLLISION" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE BOWS OF THE KASHMIR DAMAGED BY COLLISION</span> +</div> + +<p>Drumming of the wireless-cabin telephone sounds out, and we listen to a +brief account of Poldhu's war warning. An S.O.S. has been heard, but a shore +station has accepted it. (They can identify the ship—might be the harping of +a Fritz.) There is a long code message through, and the quartermaster brings it—a +jumble of helplessly ugly consonants that looks as though the German +Fleet, at last, is out—but resolves (after a wearisome cryptic wrestle) to back-chat +that has little of interest for us. Poldhu has the reports of the day—mines<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +and derelicts, wreckage, the patrols, and enemy submarines in the channels. +Chart work for a while. The wrecks and the derelicts are figured and placed, +and we dally with the subs, plotting and measuring to find a clue to their movements. +'Fifteen hours at six, and ten to come or go! <i>Mmm!</i> That 'll +be the same swine working to the nor'east. Hope he makes a good course +into the minefield! This one is solo—and that! A ghastly bunch, anyway!' +We project a line of our course, but hesitate at position. 'Not one decent +observation in the last three days. Only a muggy guess at a horizon. Dead-reckoning? +Of course, there is our dead-reckoning, but—but—wonder where +the commodore got his position from? Must have added on th' day of th' +month, or fingers and toes or something! Damned if we can see how, at twelve +knots, we could be where——'</p> + +<p>The outspread chart, glaring white under the electric light, with a maze +of heights and soundings, grows strangely indistinct, and it calls for an effort +to set the counts and figures in their places. We realize that wandering thought +and a warm chart-room are not the combination for wakefulness. So, on deck +again, to steady up at the doorway and wonder why the night has become +suddenly as hellish black as the pit!</p> + +<p>The second officer has found his composure at the bottom of a cup of steaming +coffee, and seems mildly astonished that we are unable to pick up <i>Neleus</i> in +the darkness ahead. "Quite plain, sir, when these squalls pass. A bit murky +while they blow over, but—see her clear enough, sir. Reduced two revolutions, +and keeping good station on her at that!" Somewhat slowly (for we have +been afoot since six yesterday morning) our eyes focus to the gloom and line +out the sea and sky in their shaded proportions. <i>Neleus</i> grows out of the sombre +opacous curtain—a definite guide with the sea breaking white in her wake. +Dark patches of smoke-wrack, around and about, mark bearings on the sea-line +where our sisters of the convoy are forging through. The next astern has +dropped badly in cleaning fires, and is now throwing a whirl of green smoke +in the effort to regain her station. The sea seems to have lessened since last +we viewed it. Our hot coffee may have had effect in producing a more impressionable +frame of mind, but certainly the weather is no worse. The rain +and sleet have beaten out a measure of the toppling sea-crests. We see the forecastle-head, +black and upstanding, for longer periods, and only broken spray +flies over, where, but a little ago, were green whelming seas. A sign of modest +content comes from the boat-deck, where the guards are humming, "<i>Over +there, over there, over there! Th' Yanks are coming!</i>"</p> + +<p>The duty officer (troops) comes to us to pass the time of the morning. He +salutes with punctilio. (He has not yet learned that we are only a damn civilian,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +camouflaged, and not entitled to such respect.) It is reported to him that one +of the ship's boats had been badly damaged by a sea during the night. "In +event of—of an accident, is it in orders that the troops allocated [his word] +to that boat shall not go in any other?"</p> + +<p>Good lad! For all that darkness and the gale, he looks very fine and bold, +standing stiffly, if somewhat unsteadily, demanding detail of the Birkenhead +Drill! We assure him that there will be no immediate need for regrouping +the men, that measures have already been taken to repair the damaged planking, +that half an hour of daylight will serve us—and turn the talk to less disquieting +affairs. He is very keen. Till now he has never been farther out to sea than +the Iron Steamboat Company would take him—to Coney Island or the more +subdued delights of the Hook. A New-Yorker, he tempers quite natural vaunts +to be the more in keeping with the great and impending trial that awaits. For +all that, he is gravely concerned that we should recognize his men as good and +true—"the best ever, yessa!" With a good experience of their conduct, +under trying conditions, we assent.</p> + +<p>". . . They kin number us up all they wanna, but we're the—th N' Yok +National Guard—a right good team! Down there on th' Mexican barder, we +sure got trimmed, good and planny! Hot! My! Saay, cap'n, I guess— Ah +well, a' course you've been through some heat, too—but it was sure some +warm hell down there! Yes—sir!" A bright lad!</p> + +<p>His words recall to us a windy afternoon on Fifth Avenue, in the days when +our Uncle Sam was dispassionate and neutral. Flags whipping noisily in the +high breeze, the crowds, the bands, and the long khaki column in fours winding +towards the North River ferries to embark for Mexico, on a task that called +for inhuman restraint. Newsboys were shouting aloud the peril of Verdun, +and the thought came to us then—"Will that stream of manhood ever march +east?" And now, under our feet and in our charge, fourteen hundred—"the +best ever, yessa!"—are bound east by every thrust of the screw, and out on +the heaving waste of water around us are fifteen thousand more; and the source +is sure, and the stream, as yet, is but trickling.</p> + + +<h3><br />ON OCEAN PASSAGE</h3> + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">The</span> weather has certainly moderated. In but an hour the sea has gone +down considerably. There is no longer height enough in the tumble of it to +throw us about like a Deal lugger. We steam on a more even keel; the jar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +and racket of the racing propeller has altered to a steady rhythmic pulse-beat +that thrusts our length steadily through the water. At times the rain lashes +over and shuts out sight of our neighbours, but we have opportunity to regulate +our station in the lengthening intervals between the squalls. Improvement +in the wind and sea has brought our somewhat scattered fleet into better and +closer order. The rear horse-transports have come up astern and seem to have +got over the steering difficulties that their high topsides and small rudder-immersion +effected in the heavier sea. Only the barometer shows no inclination +to move, in keeping with the better conditions—the rain, perhaps, is keeping the +mercury low.</div> + +<p>It seems plain sailing for a while. The Second can look out for her; no +use having too many good men on the bridge. We are only in the way out here, +stamping and turning on the wet foot-spars, or throwing bowlines in the +'dodger' stops to pass the night. Four bells—two a.m.—the time goes slowly! +We are somewhat footsore. Perhaps, sea-boots off, a seat for a minute or two +in the chart-room may ease our limbs for the long day that lies before us.</p> + +<p>A long day, and the best part of another long day before we reach port! +A wearisome stretch of it! We ought to have some system of relief. Why not? +Why not take a relief? The chief officer is as good a man as the master. Why +not let him run the bus for a spell? Oh, just—just—just a rotten way we +have of doing! In the Navy they make no bones about turning over to their +juniors; why should we make it so hard for our— "<i>Says it is hazy, sir! +Told me to let you know he hasn't seen any of the ships for over an hour!</i>"</p> + +<p>Whatever is the man talking about! "<i>Ships?</i>" What ships? "<i>An +hour?</i>"</p> + +<p>The quartermaster, in storm-rig of dripping oilskin, stands sheepish in the +doorway. "Aff-past-three, sir," he says.</p> + +<p>"<i>Htt!</i>" In drowsy mood we don oilskin and sea-boots. Overhead the rain +is drumming, heavy and persistent, on the deck. A glance at the barometer +shows an upward spring. <i>Tip, tip, tip</i>—a good glass, that! Well-balanced! +The Second is apologetic, almost as though his was the hand that had accidentally +turned the tap. "Been like this for over an hour, sir! Was always hoping +it would pass off, but there has been no sign of clearing. Would have called you +sooner, but thought it would lift. I've kept her steady at average revolutions +for the last eight hours' run—seven-three. Haven't seen a thing since shortly +after you went below." A query brings answer that the fog-buoy has been +streamed and gun's crew cautioned to a sharp look-out astern. Not that there +is great need; our sailing experience has been that A—— will drop astern when +'the gas is turned down!'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> + +<p>The wind has fallen and has hauled to south. It is black dark, with a heavy +continuous downpour of rain. The air is milder, and the sea around has a glow +of luminous milky patches. So, it is to be southerly weatherly for making the +land! It might be worse! At least, this thrash of heavy rain will 'batten +hatches' on a rise of the sea, and make a good parade-ground for our destroyer +escort when they join company. We should be able to shove along at better +speed when daylight comes. The mist or the haze or whatever combination +it may be, is puzzling. From the outlook it is not easy to gauge the range of +our vision. Near us the wash from our bows is sharply defined by phosphorescence +in the broken water, a white scum churns and curls alongside, brightening +suddenly in patches as though our passage had set spark to the fringe. Outboard +the open sea merges away into the gloomy sky with no horizon, no ruling +of a division. We seem to be steaming into a vertical face of vapour. There is +no sound from the ships around us, not a light glimmers in the darkness. The +eerie atmosphere through which we pass has effect on the night-life of the ship. +On deck there is an inclination to move quietly, to preserve a silence in keeping +with the weird spell that seems to environ us. There is no longer chatter and +small talk among the duty troops; they sit about, huddled in glistening <i>ponchos</i>, +peering out at the ghostly glow on the water. From far down in the bowels +of the ship the rattle of a stoker's shovel on the plates rings out in startling +clamour, and rouses an instant desire to suppress the jarring note. It seems +impossible that there can be ships in our company—vessels moving with us +through mystic seas. We peer around, on all the bearings, but see nothing +on our encircling wall. Smell? We nose at the air, seeking a waft of coal-smoke, +but the rain is beating straight down, basting the funnel-wraiths on the +flat of the sea.</p> + +<p>An average of eight hours' steaming, seven-three revolutions, may be no good +guide, considering the racing and the plunging we have gone through. In proper +station we ought to see the loom of <i>Neleus</i> ahead, or, at least, the wash of her +fog-buoy. It is important that we should be in good touch at daybreak. We +go full speed for a turn or two and post an officer in the bows to scan for our leader.</p> + +<p>New and vexing problems come at us as time draws on. We are due to start +a zigzag, 'in execution of previous orders,' before the day breaks. We see +a royal 'hurrah's nest'—a rough house—before us if we lay off without a proper +sight of our fellows. So far there has come no negative to our orders; we are +somewhat concerned. A message cannot have been missed, surely! "Nothing +through yet, sir," is the wakeful assurance from the wireless operator. "X's +fierce with this rain, but should get any near message all right."</p> + +<p>At eight bells we come in sight of one unit of the convoy. She shows up,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +broad off on our lee bow, in a position we had hardly looked for. There is little +to see. A darkling patch, a blurred shadow, in the face of sea and sky, with +a luminous curl of broken water astern. We cannot identify her in the darkness; +flashing signals are barred in the submarine areas; we must wait daylight for +recognition. She should be <i>Neleus</i>, but a hair-line on our steering-card may have +brought us to the leader of the outside column. In any case we are in touch, +and it is with some relief we ease speed to a close approximation of hers. Anon, +our anxiety about the zigzag is dispelled by a message from the commodore, +cancelling former orders. He has sat tight on it to nearly the last minute, +hoping for a clearance.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-252.jpg" width="500" height="376" alt="THE MAYFLOWER QUAY, THE BARBICAN, PLYMOUTH" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE MAYFLOWER QUAY, THE BARBICAN, PLYMOUTH</span> +</div> + +<p>With the coming of the chief officer's watch we feel that the 'day' is beginning. +Twelve to four are unholy hours that belong to no proper order of our +reckoning. They are past the night, and have no kinship with the day: bitter, +tedious, helpless spaces of time that ought only to be passed in slumber and +oblivion. By five, and the lift greying, there is something in the movement about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +the decks that suggests an awakening of the ship to busy life and action, after +the sullen torpor of an uneasy night. The troop 'fatigue men' turn out to +their duties, and traffic to the cooking-galleys goes on, even under the unceasing +downpour that falls on us. The guard get busy on their rounds, challenging +the men as they step out of the companionways, to show their life-belts in +order and properly adjusted. Complaint and discussion are frequent, but the +guard are firm in their insistence. "I should worry!" is the strange request, +appeal, exhortation, demand, reply, aside, that punctuates each meeting on the +decks below. In nowise influenced by the sinister import of the questioning, the +duty troops on the boat-deck waken up. The spirit of matutinal expression +descends on them, despite the rain, and they whistle cheerful 'harmonic discords,' +till barked to silence by Sergeant 'Jawn.'</p> + +<p>The watch on deck trail hoses and deck-scrubbers from the racks and set +about preparations for washing down, bent earnestly on their standard rites +though the heavens fall! The carpenter and his mate are assembling their gear +and tools, awaiting better daylight to get on with their repairs to the damaged +lifeboats. On the bridge we seem congested. Extra 'day' look-outs obstruct +our confined gangways and the bulk of their weather harness, plus life-belts and +megaphones, restricts a ready movement. In preparation for busy daylight, +the signalmen put out their bunting on the lettered hooks, and ease off the halyards +that are set 'bar-tight' by the soaking rain. There is, withal, an air +of freshness in the morning bustle that comes in company with the dawn.</p> + +<p>With gloom sufficient for our signal needs (and light enough for protection) +we flash a message to our consort. She is <i>Neleus</i>, and answers that she has +other vessels of the convoy in sight to leeward. We sheer into our proper +position astern of her and find the outer column showing through the mist in +good station. On our report that we had no others in sight, <i>Neleus</i> alters course +perceptibly to converge on the commodore, and daylight coming in finds us +steaming in misty but visible touch with the other columns. The horse transports +have dropped astern, and one is bellowing for position. She gets a word +or two on the 'buzzer,' comes ahead, and lets go the whistle lanyard.</p> + +<p>If commodore's reckoning is right, we should now be on the destroyer rendezvous, +but our wireless operator, who has been listening to the twitter of the birds, +assures us that they are yet some distance off. We hope for a clearing to enable +them to meet us without undue search; it will not be a simple matter to join +company in the prevailing weather conditions, particularly as we are working +on four days of dead-reckoning. By seven o'clock there is no sign of the small +craft, and we note our ocean escort closing in to engage the commodore with +signals. The rain lessens and turns to a deep Scotch mist, our range of vision<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +is narrowed to a length or two. Anon, our advance guardship sets her syren +sounding dismal wails at long intervals, as she swings over from wing to wing +of the convoy.</p> + +<p>By what mysterious channel does information get about a ship? Is there a +voice in the aerials? Are ears tuned to the many-tongued whisperings of rivet +and shell-plate, that all hands have an inkling of events? The rendezvous is an +official secret; the coming of the destroyers is supposedly unknown to all but the +master, the navigators, and the wireless operator, but it is not difficult to see a +knowing expectancy in the ranks of our company. Despite the wet and clammy +mist, ignoring the dry comforts of the ''tween-decks,' the troops crowd the +upper passages and hang long over the rails and bulwarks, pointing and shouting +surmise and conjecture to their mates. The crew are equally sensitive. Never +were engine-room and stokehold ventilators so tirelessly trimmed to the wind. +At frequent intervals, one or other of the grimy firemen ascends to the upper +gratings, cranks the cowls an inch or two this way or that, then stands around +peering out through the mist for first sight of a welcome addition to our numbers. +The official ship look-outs are infected by a new keenness, and every vagary in +the wind that exposes a glimpse of our neighbours is greeted by instant hails +from the crow's nest.</p> + +<p>Eight bells again! The watch is changed and, with new faces on the bridge, +the length of our long spell is painfully recalled. With something of envy we +note the posts relieved and the men gone below to their hours of rest. "What +a life!" The wail of the guardship's syren fits in to our mood—<i>Wh-o-o-owe!</i></p> + +<p>Quick on the dying note a new syren throws out a powerful reedy blast, +sounding from astern. Thus far on the voyage, with fog so long our portion, +we have come to know the exact whistle-notes of our neighbours, down to the +cough and steam splutter of the older ships. This is new—a stranger—a musical +chime that recalls the powerful tug-boats on the Hudson. Our New-Yorker +troops are quick to recognize the homely note. "Aw! Saay!" is the chorus. +"Lissen! Th' <i>Robert E. Lee!</i> "</p> + +<p>The rear ships of the convoy now give tongue—a medley of confused reverberations. +No reply comes to their tumult, but a line of American destroyers emerges +from the mist astern and steams swiftly between the centre columns. There +is still a long swell on the sea and they lie over to it, showing a broad strake of +composition. They are bedizened in gaudy dazzle schemes, and the mist adds +to the weird effect. The Stars and Stripes flies at each peak, standing out, +board-like, from the speed of their carriers. As they pass, in line ahead, a wild +tumult of enthusiasm breaks out among the troops. They join in a full-voiced +anthem, carried on from ship to ship, "The Star-spangled Banner!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> + + +<h3><br />'ONE LIGHT ON ALL FACES'</h3> + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">A slight</span> lift in the mist, edging from sou'west in a freshening of the wind, +extends our horizon to include all ships of the convoy. With this modest clearing, +the shield of vapour that has cloaked us from observation since early morning +is withdrawn. Although still hazy, there is sight enough for torpedo range +through a periscope, and the long-delayed zigzag is signalled by the commodore.</div> + +<p>There is no time lost in settling to the crazy courses. At rise of the mist +we are steaming through the flat grey sea in parallel columns, our lines ruled +for us by the wakes of our leaders. The contrasts of build and tonnage, the +variegations of our camouflage, are dulled to a drab uniformity by the lingering +mist, and we make a formal set-piece in the seascape, spaced and ordered and +defined. The angle of the zigzag disturbs our symmetry. As one movement, +on the tick of time, we swing over into an apparent confusion, like the flush +of a startled covey. We make a pattern on the smooth sea with our stern wash. +Wave counters wave and sets up a running break on the surface that draws the +eye by its similarity to a sheering periscope; not for the first time we turn our +glasses on the ripples, and scan the spurt of broken water in apprehension.</p> + +<p>Our escort is now joined by British sloops returning from their deep-sea +patrols. The faster American destroyers spur out on the wings and far ahead, +leaving the less active warships to trudge and turn in rear of the convoy. With +our new additions, ship by ship steering to the east, we make a formidable international +gathering on the high seas, a powerful fleet bringing the Pilgrim sons +back over the weary sea-route of their fathers' <i>Mayflower!</i> </p> + +<p>Having far-flung scouts to safeguard our passage, there seems no reason for +concern about our navigation, but the habits of a sea-routine urge us to establish +a position—to right the uncertainty of four days' dead-reckoning. The mist +still hangs persistently about us, but there is a prospect that the sun may break +through. The strength of the wind keeps the upper vapours moving, but ever +there are new banks to close up where a glimpse of clear vision shows a 'pocket' +in the clouds. The westering sun brightens the lift and plays hide-and-seek +behind the filmy strata. Time and again we stand by for an observation, but, +should a nebulous limb of the sun shine through, the horizon is obscured—when +the sea-line clears to a passable mark, the sun has gone! A vexing round of +trial after trial! We put away the sextant, vowing that no tantalizing promise +shall tempt us. "Bother the sun! 'We should worry!' We have got an +approximation by soundings, we can do without—we— <i>Look out, there!</i>"—we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +are hurrying for the instrument again and tapping 'stand by' to the +marksman at the chronometer!</p> + +<p>At length a useful combination of a clean lower limb and a definite horizon +gives opportunity for contact, and it is with a measure of satisfaction we figure +the result on the chart, and work back to earlier soundings for a clue to the +latitude. Busied with pencil and dividers, our findings are disturbed by gunfire—the +whine of a slow-travelling shell is stifled by a dull explosion that jars the +ship!</p> + +<p>On deck again; the men on the bridge have eyes turned to the inner column. +The rearmost transport of that line has a high upheaval of debris and broken +water suspended over her; it settles as we watch, and leaves only a wreath of +lingering dust over the after part of the ship; she falls out of line, listing heavily; +puffs of steam on her whistle preface the signal-blasts that indicate the direction +from which the blow was struck. From a point astern of us a ruled line of disturbed +water extends to the torpedoed ship—the settling wake of the missile! +The smack and whine of our bomb-thrower speaks out a second time, joined by +other vessels opening fire.</p> + +<p>Events have brought our ship's company quickly to their stations. The +chief officer stands, step on the ladder, awaiting orders. "Right! Lay aft! +Cease fire, unless you have a sure target! Look out for the destroyers blanking +the range!" He runs along, struggling through the mass of troops. The +men are strangely quiet; perhaps the steady beat of our engines measures out +assurance to them—as it does to us. Their white-haired colonel has come +to the bridge, and stands about quietly. Other officers are pushing along to their +stations. There is not more than subdued and controlled excitement in a low +murmur. The men below crowd up the companionways from the troop-decks. +In group and mass, the ship seems packed to overflowing by a drab khaki +swarm; the light on all faces turned on the one cant, arms pointing in one direction, +rouses a haunting disquiet. However gallant and high of heart, they are +standing on unfamiliar ground—at sea, in a ship, caged! If—</p> + +<p>Two destroyers converge on us at frantic speed, tearing through the flat sea +with a froth in their teeth. As the nearest thunders past, her commander yells +a message through his megaphone. We cannot understand. Busied with +manœuvres of the convoy, with the commodore's signal for a four-point turn, +we miss the hail, and can only take the swing and wave of his arms as a signal +to get ahead—"Go full speed!" The jangle of the telegraph is still sounding, +when we reel to a violent shock. The ship lists heavily, every plate and frame +of her ringing out in clamour with the impact of a vicious sudden blow. She +vibrates in passionate convulsion on recovery, masts oscillate like the spring of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +a whip-shaft, the rigging jars and rattles at the bolts, a crash of broken glass +showers from the bridge to the deck below!</p> + +<p>The murmur among the troops swells to a higher note, there is a crowding +mass-movement towards the boats. The guard is turned to face inboard. The +colonel is impassive; only his eyes wander over the restless men and note the +post of his officers. He turns towards us, inquiringly. What is it to be? His +orderly bugler is standing by with arm crooked and trumpet half raised.</p> + +<p>Our lips are framing an order, when a second thundering shock jars the ship, +not less in violence and shattering impact than the first. A high hurtling column +of water shoots up skyward close astern of the ship. We suppress the order +that is all but spoken, stifle the words in our throat. We are not torpedoed! +Depth-charges! The destroyers' work! At a sign, the bugler sounds out +"<i>Still!</i>" and slowly the tumult on deck is arrested.</p> + +<p>The commodore's <i>half-right</i> has been instantly acted on, and we are steadied +on a new course, bearing away at full speed, with the torpedoed horse transport +and the racing, circling destroyers astern. Suddenly our bows begin to swing +off to port, falling over towards the outer column. The helmsman has the wheel +hard over against the sheer; we realize that our steering-gear has gone; the +second depth-charge has put us out of control. We swing on the curve of a +gathering impetus—it is evident that the rudder is held to port; converging +on us at full speed, the rear ship of the outer column steams into the arc of our +disorder!</p> + +<p>The signalman is instant with his 'not under command' hoist, the crew +are scattered to throw in emergency gear, but there is no time to arrest the sheer. +The first impulse is to stop and go astern. If we arrest the way of the ship, a +collision is inevitably assured, but the impact may be lessened to a side boarding, +to damage that would not be vital; if we swing as now, we may clear—our eye +insists we should clear. If our tired eyes prove false, if the strain of a long +look-out has dulled perception, our stem will go clean into her—we shall cut her +down! Reason and impulse make a riot of our brain. The instinct to haul +back on the reins, to go full astern on the engines, is maddening. Our hand +curves over the brass hood of the telegraph, fingers tighten vice-like on the lever; +with every nerve in tension, we fight the insane desire to ring up and end the +torturing conflict in our mind!</p> + +<p>A confusion of minor issues comes crowding for settlement, small stabs to +jar and goad in their trifling. There is a call to carry on side-actions. Every +bell on the bridge clamours for attention. The engine-room rings up, the chief +officer telephones from aft that the starboard chain has parted, the rudder +jammed hard to port. From the upper spars, the signalman calls out a message<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +from an approaching destroyer—"What is the matter? Are you torpedoed?" +Through all, we swing out—swiftly, inexorably!</p> + +<p>Troops and look-outs scurry off the forecastle-head, in anticipation of a +wrecking blow. On the other ship, there is outcry and excitement. She has +altered course and her stern throws round towards us, further encroaching on +the arc of our manœuvre. So near we are, we look almost into the eyes of her +captain as we head for the bridge. Troops, the boat-guard, are scrambling +aboard from the out-swung lifeboats, their rifles held high. On her gun-platform +the gunners slam open their breech, withdraw the charge, and hurry forward +to join the mass of men amidships. All eyes are centred on the narrowing space +of clear water that separates us, on our high sheering stem that cuts through +her out-flung side-wash.</p> + +<p>Strangely the movement seems to be all in our sweeping bow. The other +vessel appears stationary, inert—set motionless against the flat background +of misty cloud; our swinging head passes point upon point of the chequered +camouflage on her broadside; subconsciously we mark the colours of her scheme—red +and green and grey. We clear her line of boats, and sway through the +length of her after-deck—waver at the stern-house, then cover the grey +mounting of her gun-emplacement. In inches we measure the rails and +stanchions on her quarter, as our upstanding bow drives on. Tensely expectant, +our mind trembles on the crash that seems inevitable.</p> + +<p>It does not come. Our eye was right—we clear her counter! With some +fathoms to spare we sheer over the thrash of her propellers, the horizon +runs a line across our stem, we have clear yielding blue water under the +bows!</p> + +<p>The illusion of our sole movement is reversed as the mass of the other vessel +bears away from us. The unbroken sea-line offers no further mark to judge +our swing; we seem to have become suddenly as immobile as a pier-head, while +our neighbour starts from our forefoot in an apparent outrush, closing and opening +the line of her masts and funnels like shutting and throwing wide the panels +of a door.</p> + +<p>With no indecision now we pull the lever over hood of the telegraph. One case +is cleared; there still remains the peril of the lurking submarine. The destroyers +are busy on the chase, manœuvring at utmost speed and exploding depth-charges +in the area. We are now some distance from them but the crash of their explosion +sends an under-running shock to us still. Our sheer has brought us broadside +on to the position from which the enemy loosed off his torpedo. At full astern we +bring up and swing over towards the receding convoy. If we are barred from +carrying on a zigzag by the mishap to our helm, we can still put a crazy gait on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +her by using the engines. Backing and coming ahead, we make little progress, +but at least we present no sitting target.</p> + +<p>Reports come through from aft that the broken chain, springing from a fractured +link, has jammed hard under the quadrant; the engineers are at work, +jacking up to release the links; they will be cleared in ten minutes! The +chief asks for the engines to be stopped; sternway is putting purchase on the +binding pressure of the rudder. Reluctantly we bring up and lie-to. In no +mood to advertise our distress, we lower the 'not under command' signals, +and summon what patience may be left to us to await completion of repairs.</p> + +<p>A long 'ten minutes!' Every second's tick seems fraught with a new anxiety. +Fearfully we scan the sea around, probing the line of each chance ripple for sight +of an upstanding pin-point. Anon, steam pressure rises and thunders through +the exhaust, throwing a battery of spurting white vapour to the sky, and letting +even the sea-birds know we are crippled and helpless.</p> + +<p>The torpedoed ship still floats, though with a dangerous list and her stern +low in the water. A sloop is taking her in tow, and we gather assurance of her +state in the transport's boats still hanging from the davits; they have not +abandoned. She falters at the end of the long tow-rope and sheers wildly in +the wake of her salvor. The convoy has vanished into the grey of the east, +and only a lingering smoke-wreath marks the bearing where they have entered +the mist. The sun has gone, leaving but little afterglow to lengthen twilight; +it will soon be dark. Apparently satisfied with their work the destroyers cease +fire; whether there is oil on their troubled waters we cannot see. They linger +a while, turning, then go on in the wake of the convoy. One turns north towards +us, with a busy windmiller of a signalman a-top the bridge-house. "<i>What is +the matter? Do you wish to be towed?</i>" We explain our case, and receive an +answer that she will stand by, "<i>but use utmost dispatch effect repair</i>."</p> + +<p>'Use utmost dispatch'! With every minute, as the time passes, goes our +chance of regaining our station in the convoy; we are in ill content to linger! +We have a liking for our chief engineer—a respect, an admiration—but never +such a love as when he comes to the bridge-ladder, grimy, and handling his scrap +of waste. "They're coupling up now! A job we had! Chain jammed and +packed under th' quadrant, like it had been set by a hydraulic ram! If that +one landed near Fritz, he'll trouble us no more!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a> +<img src="images/i-260.jpg" width="500" height="450" alt="EVENING: THE MERSEY FROM THE LANDING-STAGE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">EVENING: THE MERSEY FROM THE LANDING-STAGE</span> +</div> + +<p>With the engines turning merrily, and helm governance under our hand, +we regain composure. Our task is yet none too easy. Even at our utmost +speed we cannot now rejoin the convoy before nightfall; snaking through the +ships in the dark to take up station offers another harassing night out! +Still, it might be worse—much worse! We think of the torpedoed ship towing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +so slowly abeam—of the khaki swarm on our decks, 'the light on all faces +turned on one cant.' Surely our luck is in! The infection of the measured +beat in our progress recalls a job unfinished; we step into the chart-room and +take up pencil and dividers.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 312px;"> +<img src="images/i-262.jpg" width="312" height="400" alt="THE STEERSMAN" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE STEERSMAN</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-263.jpg" width="500" height="367" alt="THE WORK OF A TORPEDO" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE WORK OF A TORPEDO</span> +</div> + +<h2>XXIII</h2> + +<h3>'DELIVERING THE GOODS'</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>OCTOBER on the Mersey is properly a month of hazy autumn weather, +but the few clear days seem to gain an added brilliance from their +rarity, and present the wide estuary in a vivid, clear-cut definition. +The distant hills of North Wales draw nearer to the city, and stand over the +slated roofs of the Cheshire shore as though their bases were set in the peninsula. +Seaward the channel buoys and the nearer lightships are sharply distinct, cutting +the distant sea-line like the topmast spars of ships hull down. Every ripple +and swirl of the tide is exaggerated by the lens of a rare atmosphere; the bow +wash of incoming vessels is thrown upward as by mirage.</div> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 421px;"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a> +<img src="images/i-264.jpg" width="421" height="600" alt="TRANSPORTS DISCHARGING IN LIVERPOOL DOCKS" title="" /> +<span class="caption">TRANSPORTS DISCHARGING IN LIVERPOOL DOCKS</span> +</div> + +<p>On such a day a convoy bears in from the sea, rounding the lightships under +columns of drifting smoke. Heading the merchantmen, the destroyers and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +sloops of the escort steam quickly between the channel buoys and pass in by +New Brighton at a clip that shows their eagerness to complete the voyage. A +sloop detaches from the flotilla and rounds-to off the landing-stage. Her decks +are crowded by men not of her crew. Merchant seamen are grouped together +at the stern, and a small body of Uncle Sam's coloured troops line the bulwarks +in attitudes of ease and comfort. They are a happy crowd, and roar jest and +catchword to the passengers on the crossing ferries. The merchantmen are less +boisterous. They watch the preparations of the bluejackets for mooring at the +stage with a detached professional interest; some of them gaze out to the +nor'ard where the transports of the convoy are approaching. Doubtless their +thoughts are with the one ship missing in the fleet—their ship. The sloop hauls +alongside the stage and a gangway is passed aboard. Naval transport officers +and a major of the U.S. Army staff are waiting, and engage the commander of +the man-of-war in short conversation. The men are disembarked and stand +about in straggling groups. There is little to be said by the sloop's commander. +"A horse transport torpedoed yesterday. No! No losses. Tried to tow her +for a bit, but had to cast off. She went down by the stern."</p> + +<p>The trooper horse-tenders are marshalled in some order and pass over to the +waiting-rooms under charge of the American officer. With a word or two and a +firm handshake to the sloop's commander, the master of the torpedoed ship +comes ashore and joins his men. No word of command! He jerks his head in +the direction of the Liver Buildings and strides off. The seamen pick up their +few bundles of sodden clothing and make after him, walking in independent and +disordered groups. As they straggle along the planking of the stage, a military +band—in full array—comes marching down from the street-way. They step +out in fine swing, carrying their glittering brasses. "Here, Bill," says one of +the seamen, hitching his shoulder towards the burdened drummers, "who said +we was too late for th' music!"</p> + +<p>The transports have come into the river. Every passing tug and ferry-boat +gives <i>rrr—oot</i> on her steam-whistle to welcome them as they round-to off the +docks and landing-stage. Loud bursts of cheer and answering cheer sound over +the water. The wide river, so lately clear of shipping, seems now narrowed to +the breadth of a canal by the huge proportions of the liners bringing up in the +tideway. The bizarre stripes and curves and the contrasted colours of their +dazzle schemes stand out oddly against the background of the Cheshire shore. It +is not easy to disentangle the lines of the ships in the massed grouping of funnel +and spar and high topsides. They are merged into a bewildering composition +with only the mastheads and the flags flying at the trucks to guide the eye in +attempting a count. Fifteen large ships, brimming at the bulwarks with a packed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +mass of troops, all at a deep draught that marks their load below decks of food +and stores and munitions.</p> + +<p>The landing-stage becomes rapidly crowded by disembarkation officers and +their staffs. Transport wagons and cars arrive at the south end and run quietly on +the smooth boarding to their allotted stands. A medical unit, gagged with fearsome +disinfectant pads, musters outside their temporary quarters. Most prominent +of all, tall men in their silver and blue, a sergeant and two constables of +the City police stand by—the official embodiment of law and order.</p> + +<p>A flag is posted by the stage-men at the north end, and its flutter calls an +answering whistle-blast from the nearest transport. Steadily she disengages from +the press of ships and closes in towards the shore. The tugs guiding her sheer +strain at the hawsers and lie over in a cant that shows the tremendous weight +of their charge. A row-boat dances in the wash of their screws as it is backed +in to the liner's bows to pass a hawser to the stage. Sharp, short blasts indicate +the pilot's orders from the bridge: the stage-master keeps up a commentary +on the manœuvres through a huge megaphone. Stir and bustle and high-spirited +movement! The troops that pack the liner's inshore rails give tongue +to excited gaiety. A milkgirl (slouch hat, trousers and gaiters complete) +passes along the stage on her way to the restaurant and is greeted with +acclaim, "Thatta gel—thatta goil—oh, you kid!" The policemen come in +for it: "Aw, say! Looka th' guys 'n tha lodge trimmings. What's th' secret +sign, anyway!" An embarrassed and red-faced junior of the Transport Service +is forced to tip it and accept three cheers for "th' Brissh Navy!"</p> + +<p>The opening bars of 'The Star-spangled Banner' brings an instant stop to +their clamour. The troops spring to attention in a way that we had not observed +before in their own land. The spirit of patriotism, pronounced in war! 'God +Save the King' keeps them still at attention. As strong as war and patriotism—the +spirit of a new brotherhood in arms!</p> + +<p>The transport makes fast and high gantries are linked to a position on the +stage and their extensions passed on board. The stage-men make up their +heaving-lines and move off to berth a second vessel at the south end. The tide +is making swiftly in the river, and there must be no delay if the troops are to +be disembarked and the ships cast off in time to dock before high water has +passed.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a> +<img src="images/i-268.jpg" width="600" height="326" alt="TROOP TRANSPORTS DISEMBARKING AT THE LANDING-STAGE, LIVERPOOL" title="" /> +<span class="caption">TROOP TRANSPORTS DISEMBARKING AT THE LANDING-STAGE, LIVERPOOL</span> +</div> + +<p>Viewed from the low tidal stage, almost at a level with the water, the ship—that +had appeared so delicate of line in the river—assumes a new and stronger +character at close hand. The massive bulk of her, towering almost overhead, +dwarfs the surrounding structures. The shear that gave her beauty at a distance +is lost in the rapid foreshortening of her length: her weathered plating, strake<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +upon strake bound by a pattern of close rivet-work, attracts the eye and imposes +an instant impression of strength and seaworthiness. On her high superstructure +the figures of men seem absurdly diminished. The sense of their control of such +a vessel is difficult of realization. Pouring from her in an apparently endless +stream of khaki, her living cargason passes over the gangways.</p> + +<p>They move rapidly from the ship to the shore. Waiting-sheds and the upper +platforms are soon littered by their packs and equipment, and the troops squat +on the roadway to await formation of their group. Large bodies are marched +directly to the riverside station to entrain for camp, but the assortment and +enumeration of most of the companies and detachments is carried through on +the broad planking of the stage. In and out the mustered files of men, transport +cars make a noisy trumpeting progress, piled high with baggage and stores, and +each crowned by a waving party of high-spirited soldiers. A second transport +is brought in at the other end of the stage, and adds her men to the throng of +troops at the water-side. The disembarkation staff have work with the sheep +and the goats. There is the natural desire to learn how 'th' fellers' got on in +the other ship, and the two ships' complements are mixed in a fellowship that +makes a tangle of the 'nominal rolls' and drives the harassed officers to an outburst +of profanity. Ever and on, a block occurs on the gangways where the +inevitable 'forgetters' are struggling back through the press of landing men, +to search for the trifles of their kit.</p> + +<p>A prolonged blast of her siren warns the military officers that the first transport +is about to cast off, and the movement of the troops is accelerated to a hurried +rush and the withdrawal of the gangways. The waiting tugs drag the ship from +the stage, and she moves slowly down-stream to dock at the Sandon entrance, +there to discharge the burden of her packed holds. Another huge vessel takes her +place, canting in at the north end, and shortly sending out more men to the +already congested landing. She carries two full battalions, and they are disembarked +with less confusion than the former varied details. Forming fours, +and headed by their own band, they march off up the long bridgeway to the +city streets.</p> + +<p>The tide is approaching high water and the pilots are growing anxious lest +they should lose opportunity of docking on the tide. Already the dock gates +are open, and the smaller vessels of the convoy have dropped out of the river +into the basins. With three ships disembarked and a fourth drawing alongside, +the Naval Transport officers decide that they can handle no more men on the +stage, and send the remaining steamers to land their men in dock. There, with +the troops away, an army of dockers can get to work to unload the store of +their carriage from overseas.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i-271.jpg" width="500" height="342" alt="'M N'" title="" /> +<span class="caption">'M N'</span> +</div> + +<h2>CONCLUSION</h2> + +<h3>'M N'</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>SHIMMERING in gilt sunlit threads, the grey North Sea lay calm and +placid, at peace with the whip of the winds after days of storm and +heavy weather. The sun had come up to peer over a low curtain of +vapour that hung in the east. Past the meridian, the moon stood clear-cut in +the motionless upper sky. The ring of quiet sea accepted the presence of the +waiting ships as of friendly incomers, familiar to the round of the misty horizon. +Two British destroyers, a flotilla of motor-vessels, drifters—the brown sails of +Thames barges appearing, then vanishing, in the wisps of fickle vapour. A breathless +dawn. Sun, the silver moon, the grey flat sea bearing motionless ships, +were witness to the drama—the giving up of the murder craft, the end of piracy.</div> + +<p>Growing out of the mist, a squadron of British light cruisers and their convoy +approached the rendezvous where the destroyers lay in readiness to take over +charge of the German submarines. Two enemy transports under their commercial<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +flags, headed the line of the water-snakes. Aircraft circled overhead +and turned and returned on the line of progress. The leading ships swung +out on approaching the destroyers and engaged them by signal. The +destroyers weighed anchor and proceeded to carry out their orders. Each +carried a number of officers and men to be placed aboard the submarines, to +accept their surrender, to direct their further passage to within the booms at +Harwich.</p> + +<p>The commander of <i>Melampus</i> focused his glasses on the eleventh submarine +of the long straggling line. The U-boat had a wash over his screws and was +apparently steaming ahead to overtake his fellows, now fading into the mist in +the direction of their prison gates.</p> + +<p>"Our group," he said: then, to the signalman, "Tell him to stop instantly!"</p> + +<p>The bluejacket stood out on the sparring of the bridge and signalled with +his hand-flags. The submarine still moved ahead at speed, his exhaust panting +at pressure. The German commander could not (or would not) understand, and +it was necessary to hoist 'M N' of the International Code. The two flags were +sufficient: he threw his engines astern and brought up to await further orders. +His followers arrived on the station. Some cast anchor, others slowed and +stopped. All took note of the flags—St. Andrew's cross over blue and white +checquers, hoisted at the destroyer's yard-arm—and obeyed the summary signal.</p> + +<p>'M N!' International Code! The old flags of the days when there was +peace on the sea, when the German commercial ensign was known and familiar +and respected in the seaports of the world!</p> + +<p>How many of the Germans would understand the full significance of the hoist +that brought them to a standstill—the import of the flags drooping in the windless +air—the beckoning of the coloured fabric that ended their murder trade. The +day had long passed since they had used this warning signal for a procedure in +law and order. No 'M N' to <i>Lusitania</i> before littering the Irish Sea with +wreckage and the pitiful bodies of women and small children: no signal to +<i>Arabic</i> or <i>Persia:</i> no warning to <i>Belgian Prince</i>, to <i>California</i>, to all the long +and ghastly list: no summons to the hospital ships—alight and blazoned to +advertise their humane mission. And now—their ensign dishonoured, their +name as seamen condemned to the everlasting tale of infamy, their proud commercial +seafaring destroyed—to come in with the blood on their hands, and +render and submit to the mandate of a two-flag hoist!</p> + +<p>'M N!' The Code of the Nations! The summons to peaceful seafarers! +'Stop instantly!' Disobey at your peril! At last, at long last, the Freedom +of the Seas—the security of the ships—the safety of all who pass on their lawful +occasions—completely re-established by the flaunt of the old flags!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>APPENDIX</h2> + + +<div class='cap'>COMPELLED by the nature of their work to be long absent from home +ports, seamen are frequently in ignorance of the current of longshore +opinion. Newspapers do not reach out to the sea-routes (as yet), and +the media of Guild Gazettes and Association Reporters come somewhat late on +the tide of an appreciation. The tremendous historical importance of the +Nation's Thanks to its Fighting Forces (in which the Merchants' Service was +included) has not adequately been realized by the merchantmen. Some do not +even know of it. For these reasons—not in a spirit of 'pride above desert'—the +writer quotes the following:</div> + +<p>The Resolution of Parliament of October 29, 1917, placed upon record—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"That the thanks of this House be accorded to the officers and men +of the Mercantile Marine for the devotion to duty with which they have +continued to carry the vital supplies to the Allies through seas infested with +deadly perils."</p></div> + +<p>A year later, an equally generous appreciation of the work of the Merchants' +Service was issued by the Board of Admiralty.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"On the occasion of the first Meeting of the Board of Admiralty after +the signing of the German Armistice, their Lordships desire, on behalf of +the Royal Navy, to express their admiration and thanks to the Owners, +Masters, Officers, and Crews of the British Mercantile Marine, and to those +engaged in the Fishing Industry, for the incomparable services which they +have rendered during the War, making possible and complete the Victory +which is now being celebrated.</p> + +<p>"The work of the Mercantile Marine has been inseparably connected +with that of the Royal Navy, and without the loyal co-operation of the +former, the enemy's Submarine Campaign must inevitably have achieved +its object. The Mercantile Marine from the beginning met this unprecedented +form of warfare with indomitable courage, magnificent endurance, +and a total disregard of danger and death, factors which the enemy had +failed to take into account and which went far towards defeating his object.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>"In no small measure also has the success achieved against the submarine +been due to the interest taken by Owners in the defensive equipment of +their ships, and to the ability, loyalty, and technical skill displayed by +Masters and Officers in carrying out Admiralty regulations which, though +tending to the safety of the vessels from submarine risks, enormously +increased the strain and anxiety of navigation. The loyal observance of +these precautions has been the more commendable since the need for absolute +secrecy, on which safety largely depended, has prevented the reasons for +their adoption being in all cases disclosed.</p> + +<p>"Further, the Convoy System, which has played such an important +part in frustrating the designs of the enemy and securing the safe passage +of the United States Army, could never have attained its success but for +the ability and endurance displayed by Masters, Officers, and crews of the +Merchant Service forming these Convoys. This system has called for the +learning and practising of a new science—that of station-keeping—the +accuracy of which has depended in no small measure on the adaptability +and skill of the Engineers and their Departments.</p> + +<p>"Their Lordships also desire to acknowledge the ready response of +Owners to the heavy calls made on the Merchant Service for Officers and +men to meet the increasing requirement of the Navy. On board our ships +of every type, from the largest Dreadnought down to the smallest Patrol +Boat are to be found Officers and men of the Merchant Navy who have +combined with those of the Royal Navy in fighting the enemy and defeating +his nefarious methods of warfare at sea.</p> + +<p>"The Merchant Service and the Royal Navy have never been so closely +brought together as during this War. In the interests of our glorious +Empire this connection must prove a lasting one."</p></div> + +<div class='unindent'>The Resolution of Parliament of August 6, 1919, placed upon record—</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"That the thanks of this House be accorded to the officers and men of +the Mercantile Marine for the fine and fearless seamanship by which our +people have been preserved from want and our cause from disaster."</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>INDEX</h2> + + +<div> +<span class="smcap">Aberdeen</span>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Admiralty, <a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>-<a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a><br /> +<br /> +Adriatic, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Agnes Whitwell</i>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a><br /> +<br /> +Aleppo, <a href="#Page_4">4</a><br /> +<br /> +"Allo," <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a><br /> +<br /> +Amadas, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Anglo-Californian</i>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /> +<br /> +Antwerp, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Aquitania</i>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Arabic</i>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> +<br /> +Arctic Ocean, <a href="#Page_25">25</a><br /> +<br /> +Arklow, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Arlington, <a href="#Page_108">108</a><br /> +<br /> +Armada, The Great, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Atalanta</i>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Atlantic, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a><br /> +<br /> +Atlantic City, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Augustine</i>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a><br /> +<br /> +Australia, <a href="#Page_126">126</a><br /> +<br /> +Austrian Navy, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Avocet</i>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Babylon</span>, <a href="#Page_4">4</a><br /> +<br /> +Backhouse, John, <a href="#Page_5">5</a><br /> +<br /> +Baffin, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +Bahia, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a><br /> +<br /> +Balsara, <a href="#Page_4">4</a><br /> +<br /> +Barlow, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +Barnegat Lighthouse, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +Beaumaris, <a href="#Page_78">78</a><br /> +<br /> +Beaverbrook, Lord, <a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Belgian Prince</i>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> +<br /> +Bell, Captain, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +Bengal, <a href="#Page_9">9</a><br /> +<br /> +Bennett, Arnold, <a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a><br /> +<br /> +Bermuda, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a><br /> +<br /> +Berry, <a href="#Page_11">11</a><br /> +<br /> +Biggatt, William, <a href="#Page_5">5</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Birchgrove</i>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a><br /> +<br /> +Black Middens, <a href="#Page_78">78</a><br /> +<br /> +Blake, <a href="#Page_10">10</a><br /> +<br /> +Board of Trade, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>-<a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a><br /> +<br /> +Boer War, <a href="#Page_22">22</a><br /> +<br /> +Boom defences, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a><br /> +<br /> +Bordeaux, <a href="#Page_55">55</a><br /> +<br /> +Boston, <a href="#Page_108">108</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Boy Ernie</i>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Boy Jacob</i>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a><br /> +<br /> +Bremen Hansa Line, <a href="#Page_31">31</a><br /> +<br /> +Brennell, Captain, <a href="#Page_85">85</a><br /> +<br /> +Bridgwater, <a href="#Page_10">10</a><br /> +<br /> +Bristol Channel, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Britannic</i>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>British Standard</i>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /> +<br /> +Brixham, <a href="#Page_101">101</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Brother Fred</i>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a><br /> +<br /> +Brownrigg, Rear-Admiral Sir Douglas, <a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Brussels</i>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<i>Cabotia</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a><br /> +<br /> +Cagliari, <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /> +<br /> +Calcutta, <a href="#Page_204">204</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Calgarian</i>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>California</i>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Cameronia</i>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a><br /> +<br /> +Canada, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a><br /> +<br /> +Canute, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a><br /> +<br /> +Cape Cod, <a href="#Page_108">108</a><br /> +<br /> +Cardiff, <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /> +<br /> +Caspian Sea, <a href="#Page_4">4</a><br /> +<br /> +Cats, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>-<a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Cavendish, Thomas, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +Cerigo Channel, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /> +<br /> +Channel, The, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a><br /> +<br /> +Charles II, <a href="#Page_57">57</a><br /> +<br /> +Chaucer, <a href="#Page_55">55</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Chelmsford</i>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a><br /> +<br /> +Cheshire, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a><br /> +<br /> +China, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Cinderella</i>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a><br /> +<br /> +Clyde, <a href="#Page_xi">xi</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a><br /> +<br /> +Cochrane, Lord, <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /> +<br /> +Collins, Captain Greenville, <a href="#Page_57"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads '5 '">57</ins></a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Collonia</i>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Commissioner</i>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Coney Island, <a href="#Page_230">230</a><br /> +<br /> +Constantinople, <a href="#Page_4">4</a><br /> +<br /> +Contalmaison, <a href="#Page_51">51</a><br /> +<br /> +Cook, James, <a href="#Page_10">10</a><br /> +<br /> +Copenhagen, <a href="#Page_11">11</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Coquet</i>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +Cork, <a href="#Page_85">85</a><br /> +<br /> +Cornford, L. Cope, <a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a><br /> +<br /> +Costello (boatswain of <i>Gull</i>, trawler), <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Cottingham</i>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a><br /> +<br /> +Coverley, Captain, <a href="#Page_114">114</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Crane</i>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Crimea, <a href="#Page_22">22</a><br /> +<br /> +Crystal Palace, <a href="#Page_122">122</a><br /> +<br /> +Cunard Line, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a><br /> +<br /> +Custom House, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Dædalus</span> Light, <a href="#Page_170">170</a><br /> +<br /> +Dampier, <a href="#Page_10">10</a><br /> +<br /> +Davis, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +Deal, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a><br /> +<br /> +Deptford, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Deutschland</i>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Devonshire</i> (East Indiaman), <a href="#Page_9">9</a><br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>Dieppe, <a href="#Page_31">31</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Dieudonné</i>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a><br /> +<br /> +Dixon, W. Macneile, <a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a><br /> +<br /> +Dogger Bank, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Doiran, <a href="#Page_133">133</a><br /> +<br /> +Downs, The, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>-<a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a><br /> +<br /> +Drake, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Drei Geschwister</i>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a><br /> +<br /> +Dublin, <a href="#Page_15">15</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">East</span> India Company, <a href="#Page_9">9</a><br /> +<br /> +Eddystone Lighthouse, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> +<br /> +Egypt, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a><br /> +<br /> +Elbow Buoy, <a href="#Page_97">97</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Emden</i>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Empress of Fort William</i>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a><br /> +<br /> +Esperanto, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Fair</span> Head, <a href="#Page_117">117</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Falaba</i>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Fermo</i>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a><br /> +<br /> +Fishermen, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>-<a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_255"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads '255'">255</ins></a><br /> +<br /> +Flanders, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Floandi</i>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Foley, <a href="#Page_11">11</a><br /> +<br /> +Forbes, Captain, <a href="#Page_63">63</a><br /> +<br /> +Foreign consuls, <a href="#Page_185">185</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Formidable</i>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Fortuna</i>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a><br /> +<br /> +France, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Franz Fischer</i>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a><br /> +<br /> +Frobisher, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +Fryatt, Captain, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Fürst</i>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Galatz</span>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a><br /> +<br /> +Gallipoli, <a href="#Page_127">127</a><br /> +<br /> +"Gamecock" Fleet, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Garron Head, <a href="#Page_116">116</a><br /> +<br /> +German Navy, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Crimes on the sea, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>-<a href="#Page_174">74</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fishing-boats, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hospital ships, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lightships, <a href="#Page_92">92</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Merchantmen, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mines, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Rafts and open boats, <a href="#Page_92">92</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Submarine minelayers, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>See under</i> Merchants' Service: <a href="#German_Schrecklichkeit">German <i>Schrecklichkeit</i></a>, and <a href="#submarine_piracy">Submarine piracy</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Submarines, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>-<a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>-<a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>-<a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>-<a href="#Page_109">9</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>-<a href="#Page_115">15</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>-<a href="#Page_119">19</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>-<a href="#Page_240">40</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>-<a href="#Page_253">53</a>, <a href="#Page_255"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads '254'">255</ins></a>-<a href="#Page_256"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads '55'">56</ins></a></span><br /> +<br /> +Gibbs, Richard, <a href="#Page_5">5</a><br /> +<br /> +Gibraltar, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br /> +<br /> +Glasgow, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a><br /> +<br /> +Goodwin Sands, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Gowan Lea</i>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a><br /> +<br /> +Grand Banks, <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br /> +<br /> +Gravesend, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a><br /> +<br /> +Greece, King of, <a href="#Page_63">63</a><br /> +<br /> +Greenwich Mean Time, <a href="#Page_191">191</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Gulflight</i>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Gull</i> (trawler), <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Hakluyt</span>, Richard, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a><br /> +<br /> +Halifax, <a href="#Page_108">108</a><br /> +<br /> +Hardy, <a href="#Page_11">11</a><br /> +<br /> +Harwich, xi, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> +<br /> +Hawkins, Sir John, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +Henderson, Algernon C. F., <a href="#Page_v">v</a><br /> +<br /> +Henry VIII, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +Hohenzollern, <a href="#Page_174">174</a><br /> +<br /> +Hollesay Bay, <a href="#Page_90">90</a><br /> +<br /> +Holy Land, <a href="#Page_54">54</a><br /> +<br /> +Horn, Cape, <a href="#Page_77">77</a><br /> +<br /> +Hudson, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +Hudson Bay, <a href="#Page_86">86</a><br /> +<br /> +Hudson River, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a><br /> +<br /> +Hull, <a href="#Page_90">90</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Iceland</span>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a><br /> +<br /> +Imperial War Museum, <a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a><br /> +<br /> +India, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a><br /> +<br /> +International Code of Signals, <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /> +<br /> +Islay, <a href="#Page_117">117</a><br /> +<br /> +Isle of Man, <a href="#Page_32">32</a><br /> +<br /> +Istria, <a href="#Page_55">55</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<i>Jane Williamson</i>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Japan, <a href="#Page_178">178</a><br /> +<br /> +Java, <a href="#Page_13">13</a><br /> +<br /> +Johnson, Dr., <a href="#Page_47">47</a>-<a href="#Page_48">48</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Justitia</i>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<i>Karlsruhe</i>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Kashmir</i>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +<br /> +Keith, Captain, <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> +<br /> +Kiel, <a href="#Page_24">24</a><br /> +<br /> +King John, <a href="#Page_55">55</a><br /> +<br /> +Kingsdown, <a href="#Page_89">89</a><br /> +<br /> +King's Harbour Master, <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /> +<br /> +Kingsway, <a href="#Page_124">124</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Kölnische Zeitung</i>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Kronprinz Wilhelm</i>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<i>Lady of the Lake</i>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +Lamport and Holt Line, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +Langton, Stephen, Archbishop of Canterbury, <a href="#Page_55">55</a><br /> +<br /> +Leggatt (of <i>Crane</i>), <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Leghorn, <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Leviathan</i>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a><br /> +<br /> +Leyland Line, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a><br /> +<br /> +Liége, <a href="#Page_27">27</a><br /> +<br /> +Lightships, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>-<a href="#Page_96">96</a><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gull Lightship, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ostend Lightship, <a href="#Page_92">92</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Royal Sovereign Lightship, <a href="#Page_95">95</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shambles Lightship, <a href="#Page_95">95</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">South Goodwin Lightship, <a href="#Page_95">95</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<i>Linn</i> ("frigot"), <a href="#Page_204">204</a><br /> +<br /> +Liver Buildings, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a><br /> +<br /> +Liverpool, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Lobelia</i>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a><br /> +<br /> +London, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a><br /> +<br /> +Louis XIV, of France, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> +<br /> +Lowestoft, <a href="#Page_90">90</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Lusitania</i>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Malay</span> pirates, <a href="#Page_165">165</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Maloja</i>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a><br /> +<br /> +Malta, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a><br /> +<br /> +Manchester, <a href="#Page_124">124</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Manchester Commerce</i>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Manhattan, <a href="#Page_223">223</a><br /> +<br /> +"Manual on Seamanship," <a href="#Page_144">144</a><br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>Marconi, <a href="#Page_123">123</a><br /> +<br /> +Marconi Company, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Maréchal de Villars</i>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Margaret</i>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Mariston</i>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +Maritime Code, <a href="#Page_54">54</a> <i>seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>Marmion</i>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a><br /> +<br /> +Marseilles, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Mary Rose</i>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Massilia</i>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Mayflower</i>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a><br /> +<br /> +Mayo, Walter H., <a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a><br /> +<br /> +Meadowside, <a href="#Page_140">140</a><br /> +<br /> +Mediterranean, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Melampus</i>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> +<br /> +Merchant Adventurers, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a><br /> +<br /> +<a name="Merchants_Service" id="Merchants_Service"></a>Merchants' Service:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Growth, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>-<a href="#Page_5">5</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">parent of Navy, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Imperial significance, xii, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">unrecognized work, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a> <i>seq.;</i> </span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">educational function, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">introduction of steamships, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">international supremacy, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">outbreak of Great War, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="submarine_piracy" id="submarine_piracy"></a>submarine piracy, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a> <i>seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <i>passim;</i> </span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">arming of, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a> <i>seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>-<a href="#Page_5">5</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">differences with Navy, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>-<a href="#Page_25">25</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">reconciliation, <a href="#Page_25">25</a> <i>seq.;</i> </span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">liaison with Navy, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>-<a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>-<a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>-<a href="#Page_123">3</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>-<a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>-<a href="#Page_256">6</a> <i>passim;</i> </span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">commerce-raiders, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Naval War Staff, <a href="#Page_30">30</a> <i>seq.;</i> </span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">transporting of troops, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a> <i>seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>-<a href="#Page_140">40</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>-<a href="#Page_251">51</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">popular recognition of, and the longshore view, <a href="#Page_46">46</a> <i>seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_255"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads '254'">255</ins></a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">discipline, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>-<a href="#Page_71">71</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">wanted, a Ministry of Marine, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">manning, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>-<a href="#Page_73">73</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="German_Schrecklichkeit" id="German_Schrecklichkeit"></a>German <i>Schrecklichkeit</i>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>-<a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">coastal Services, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>-<a href="#Page_86">86</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">war-time navigation, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>-<a href="#Page_86">6</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>-<a href="#Page_95">95</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">traditions, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_9"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads '8'">9</ins></a>-<a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>-<a href="#Page_100">100</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">signals and wireless, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>-<a href="#Page_113">3</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>-<a href="#Page_124">4</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>-<a href="#Page_170">70</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">destroyer escort, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>-<a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>-<a href="#Page_128">8</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">torpedoing of a transport, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>-<a href="#Page_140">40</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>-<a href="#Page_240">40</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">camouflage and dazzle, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>-<a href="#Page_167">7</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">naming of standard ships, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">owners' customs clerks, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">clearing for sea, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>-<a href="#Page_189">9</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">convoy conference, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>-<a href="#Page_204">204</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">putting to sea, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>-<a href="#Page_216">16</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">unloading and loading, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>-<a href="#Page_23">223</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>-<a href="#Page_251">51</a>. <i>See under</i> <a href="#Navy">Navy</a></span><br /> +<br /> +Merchant Shipping Act, <a href="#Page_67">67</a><br /> +<br /> +Mersey, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a><br /> +<br /> +Mexico, <a href="#Page_230">230</a><br /> +<br /> +Middleton, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +Minesweeping, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>-<a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a><br /> +<br /> +Ministry of Information, <a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a><br /> +<br /> +Ministry of Shipping, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /> +<br /> +Miramichi, <a href="#Page_204">204</a><br /> +<br /> +'M N', <a href="#Page_252">252</a>-<a href="#Page_253">53</a><br /> +<br /> +Mobbs, Engineman, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Mons, <a href="#Page_126">126</a><br /> +<br /> +Monson, <a href="#Page_6">6</a><br /> +<br /> +Muscovy Company, <a href="#Page_5">5</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Nantucket</span> Lightship, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Nautical Magazine</i>, <a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a><br /> +<br /> +Navesink, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +<a name="Navy" id="Navy"></a>Navy:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Offshoot from Merchants' Service, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">press-gangs, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">naval science, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">arming of merchantmen, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">War Staff, <a href="#Page_30">30</a> <i>seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Naval Transport Officer, <a href="#Page_32">32</a> <i>seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shipping Intelligence Officer, <a href="#Page_36">36</a> <i>seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">D.A.M.S., <a href="#Page_37">37</a>-<a href="#Page_38">8</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Otters,' <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">convoys, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>-<a href="#Page_183">83</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>-<a href="#Page_197">97</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>-<a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>-<a href="#Page_212">12</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">anti-submarine measures, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>-<a href="#Page_43">3</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>-<a href="#Page_96">6</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Q. ships,' <a href="#Page_42">42</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">gunnery, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">wireless on sea-going merchantmen, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>-<a href="#Page_113">3</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Transport Department, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Salvage Section, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>-<a href="#Page_147">7</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Examination Service, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>. <i>See under</i> <a href="#Merchants_Service">Merchants' Service</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<i>Nebraskan</i>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Neleus</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a><br /> +<br /> +Nelson, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Nelson</i>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Nemesis</i>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a><br /> +<br /> +Neutral shipping, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /> +<br /> +New Brighton, <a href="#Page_247">247</a><br /> +<br /> +Newhaven, <a href="#Page_31">31</a><br /> +<br /> +New Jersey, <a href="#Page_217">217</a><br /> +<br /> +Newport, U.S.A., <a href="#Page_107">107</a><br /> +<br /> +New York, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>New York Herald</i>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +Nichols, Skipper, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Nile, <a href="#Page_11">11</a><br /> +<br /> +Nore, <a href="#Page_97">97</a><br /> +<br /> +Norfolk, Va., <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a><br /> +<br /> +North River, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>-<a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a><br /> +<br /> +North Sea, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<i>Olympic</i>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> +<br /> +'Otters,' 38, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a><br /> +<br /> +Oversay, <a href="#Page_117">117</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Padrig</span> Flats, <a href="#Page_148">148</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Palermo</i>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Palm Branch</i>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a><br /> +<br /> +Patrols, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Pearl Shell</i>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Persia</i>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> +<br /> +Philanthropic Seamen's Societies, <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> +<br /> +Pilots, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>-<a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a><br /> +<br /> +Plymouth, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hoe, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sound, <a href="#Page_207">207</a></span><br /> +<br /> +Poldhu, <a href="#Page_226">226</a><br /> +<br /> +Portliskey, <a href="#Page_81">81</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Present Help</i>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a><br /> +<br /> +Prince Line, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Provident</i>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a><br /> +<br /> +Prussian Guard, <a href="#Page_51">51</a><br /> +<br /> +Psiloriti, <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /> +<br /> +Purchas, <a href="#Page_5">5</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<i>Queen Alexandra</i>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> +<br /> +Quetta Staff College, <a href="#Page_30">30</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Ramsgate</span>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a><br /> +<br /> +Rate of Exchange, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +Rathbone, Master John, <a href="#Page_11">11</a><br /> +<br /> +Rathlin Island, <a href="#Page_116">116</a><br /> +<br /> +Rathlin Sound, <a href="#Page_116">116</a><br /> +<br /> +Rea (of <i>Crane</i>), <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Redcap</i>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Richard Cœur de Lion, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Rifleman</i>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a><br /> +<br /> +River Plate, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a><br /> +<br /> +Rôles d'Oléron, <a href="#Page_54">54</a> <i>seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Rowlatt, Mr. Justice, <a href="#Page_62">62</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Royal Edward</i>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a><br /> +<br /> +Royal Naval Reserve, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>-<a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>-<a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a><br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>Royal Naval Reserve (<i>Temporary</i>), <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a><br /> +<br /> +Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve, <a href="#Page_122">122</a><br /> +<br /> +Rozhdestvensky, <a href="#Page_98">98</a><br /> +<br /> +Rue Point, <a href="#Page_117">117</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">St. Helens</span>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>St. Paul</i>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a><br /> +<br /> +Salonika, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br /> +<br /> +Salvage, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>-<a href="#Page_162">62</a><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Salving a merchantman, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>-<a href="#Page_156">56</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Repairing in dry dock, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>-<a href="#Page_162">62</a></span><br /> +<br /> +Sandon, <a href="#Page_251">251</a><br /> +<br /> +Sandy Hook, <a href="#Page_230">230</a><br /> +<br /> +San Miguel, <a href="#Page_170">170</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Sarah Pritchard</i>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Seahorse</i>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a><br /> +<br /> +Seaplanes, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /> +<br /> +Sea-slang, <a href="#Page_26">26</a><br /> +<br /> +Selsey Bill, <a href="#Page_95">95</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Serapis</i>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +Shanghai, <a href="#Page_42">42</a><br /> +<br /> +Sir Ralph the Rover, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> +<br /> +Skullmartin, <a href="#Page_116">116</a><br /> +<br /> +Smeaton, <a href="#Page_91">91</a><br /> +<br /> +Smith (of <i>Crane</i>), <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +South Africa, <a href="#Page_126">126</a><br /> +<br /> +Southampton, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> +<br /> +Southampton Water, <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Speedy</i>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /> +<br /> +Stevedores, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a><br /> +<br /> +Straits of Dover, <a href="#Page_85">85</a><br /> +<br /> +Strand, <a href="#Page_124">124</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Strongbow</i>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a><br /> +<br /> +Suda Bay, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /> +<br /> +Suez Canal, <a href="#Page_137">137</a><br /> +<br /> +Sutherland, <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Thames</span>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Thordis</i>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Thracia</i>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Titan</i>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>-<a href="#Page_55">55</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Titanic</i>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a><br /> +<br /> +Tor Point, <a href="#Page_116">116</a><br /> +<br /> +Trafalgar, <a href="#Page_11">11</a><br /> +<br /> +Trinity Bay, <a href="#Page_89">89</a><br /> +<br /> +Trinity House, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>-<a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a><br /> +<br /> +Tripolis, <a href="#Page_4">4</a><br /> +<br /> +Turkey Company, <a href="#Page_9">9</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Tuscania</i>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a><br /> +<br /> +Tyne, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<i>Umaria</i>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +United States, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a><br /> +<br /> +United States Seamen's Act, <a href="#Page_72">72</a><br /> +<br /> +U 53, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Valencia</span>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a><br /> +<br /> +Valparaiso, <a href="#Page_42">42</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Vanilla</i>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a><br /> +<br /> +Verdun, <a href="#Page_230">230</a><br /> +<br /> +Virginia, <a href="#Page_104">104</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Virginia</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a><br /> +<br /> +Volapük, <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Volturno</i>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Vosges</i>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Walmer</span>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>Wandle</i>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +'War Channel,' <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>War Ordnance</i>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a><br /> +<br /> +War Risks Associations, <a href="#Page_36">36</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>War Trident</i>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>-<a href="#Page_197">97</a><br /> +<br /> +Waterford, <a href="#Page_30">30</a><br /> +<br /> +Watt, Skipper Joseph, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Westmark Shoal, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a><br /> +<br /> +White Star Line, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +Whymper, F., <a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a><br /> +<br /> +Wilhelmshaven, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>William</i>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>William</i> (East Indiaman), <a href="#Page_9">9</a><br /> +<br /> +Wood, Walter, <a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Yarmouth</span>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a><br /> +<br /> +Yarmouth, I. of W., <a href="#Page_141">141</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Zeppelins</span>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a><br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> + +<div class='copyright'> +PRINTED AT<br /> +THE COMPLETE PRESS<br /> +WEST NORWOOD<br /> +LONDON<br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> +<p>Text uses both propeller and propellor. Varied hyphenation where a majority +usage could not be confirmed within the text was retained. For example: three +uses of seamen and two of sea-men.</p> + +<p>Page 259, the reference to page 136 was removed as this is a blank page following an illustration. +The original read (coastal Services, 77-86, 136;)</p> +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Merchantmen-at-Arms, by David W. 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