[10] All numerals relate to stories told herein--not to chapters in the
book.
"FROM DARTMOUTH TO THE DARDANELLES"--A MIDSHIPMAN'S LOG
_Told by a Dartmouth Student (Name Suppressed)_
This is the narrative of a boy who was a midshipman in the
Dardanelles Campaign. The mobilization of the Dartmouth Cadets is
tragic evidence of the grim facts of War. The loss of these boys
on the ill-fated _Cressy_, the _Aboukir_, and the _Hogue_, brought
an outburst of protest in parliament. This midshipman describes
among his adventures: "The Scenes When the Students Left Dartmouth
College"; "The Voyage from Egypt to Mombasa"; "The Bombardment of
Dar-es-Salaam"; "Ordered to the Dardanelles," and "The Sinking of
the Ship." The latter chapter is here reprinted by permission of
his publishers, _E. P. Dutton and Company_.
[11] I--STORY OF THE SINKING OF THE SHIP
Crash!--Bang!--Cr-r-ash! I woke with a start, and sitting up in my
hammock gazed around to see what had so suddenly roused me. Some of the
midshipmen were already standing on the deck in their pyjamas--others,
like me, were sitting up half dazed with sleep. A party of ship's
boys crowded up the ladder from the gun-room flat, followed by three
officers; one of these, a sub-lieutenant R.N.R., called out: "Keep
calm, and you'll all be saved."
Up to that moment it had never dawned upon me that the ship was
sinking, and even then I thought it improbable until I noticed that
we were already listing to starboard. Then I got up and walked up the
hatch to the quarter-deck. The ship was now heeling about five degrees
to starboard, and I climbed up to the port side. It was nearly pitch
dark. A seaman rushing to help lower the boats charged into me, and I
turned and swore at him.
Gradually a crowd gathered along the port side. "Boat ahoy! Boat ahoy!"
They yelled; but, as the ship listed more and more, and there was no
sign or sound of any approaching vessel, the men's voices seemed to
get a bit hopeless. The Commander was urging on a gang who were trying
to get some heavy timber overboard; but, as we listed further and
further over, they found it impossible to get it up on the port side
and couldn't get round to starboard, as the capstan and the Captain's
hatch and skylight were in the way. At last they gave it up, and going
to the side joined their voices to those of the crew, who were trying
to attract the attention of any vessel that might be in the vicinity.
Inside the ship everything which was not secured was sliding about and
bringing up against the bulkheads with a series of crashes. Crockery
was smashing--boats falling out of their crutches--broken funnel-guys
swinging against the funnel casings. She had heeled over to about
twenty degrees, then she stopped and remained steady for a few seconds.
In the momentary lull the voice of one of our officers rang out steady
and clear as at "divisions": "Keep calm, men. Be British!"
Then the ship started to heel rapidly again, and I felt sure there was
no chance of saving her. I turned to jump overboard. The Commander, who
was standing a few paces away on my right, went over a second before
me. Raising my arms above my head I sprang well out board and dived.
Just before I struck the water my face hit the side of the ship. It was
a horrid feeling sliding on my face down the slimy side, and a second
later I splashed in with tremendous force, having dived about thirty
feet.
Just as I was rising to the surface again a heavy body came down on
top of me. I fought clear and rose rather breathless and bruised. I
swam about fifty yards away, to get clear of the suction when the ship
went down; then, turning round and treading water, I watched her last
moments. The noise of crashing furniture and smashing crockery was
continuous. Slowly her stern lifted until it was dimly outlined against
the deep midnight sky. Slowly her bows slid further and further under
until, with a final lurch, she turned completely over and disappeared
bottom upwards in a mass of bubbles.
She had been our home for nearly ten months--she was gone--vanished--in
less than four minutes.