OF SHADOW AND SUNSHINE
The wrecks dissolve above us, their dust drops down from afar ...
Down to the dark, to the utter dark, where the blind white sea-snakes are.
There is no sound, no echo of sound, in the deserts of the deep,
Or the great grey level plains of ooze where the shell-burred cables creep.
KIPLING
Although the disaster to the _Vanguard_ took place when we were in
harbour, and the ill-fated ship was lying only about four cables from
us, I personally was not a witness of her sad end, for it took place
about 11.30 P.M., at which time I was asleep in my hammock, and—strange
as it may seem—I was not even aroused by the noise of the explosion.
However, next morning one of my messmates gave me the following
account of what he had seen. He had been just about to turn in when he
heard the detonation, and dashed up on to the fo'c'sle to see what had
happened. Flames were leaping up to an incredible height, and the air
was thick with fragments of red-hot metal.
Climbing down on to the quarter-deck, he observed that some of our
ship's company were lowering a whaler, but as there was no officer in
charge he jumped in, took the tiller, and headed for the scene of the
disaster. No trace of the _Vanguard_ was to be seen, but where she had
lain the sea was ablaze with burning oil, and there seemed but little
hope of rescuing even such of her crew as might have survived the
explosion. Although the flaming waters were strewn with debris of every
description, they saw no single sign of humanity save only the scorched
and blackened corpse of a stoker, which they lifted into the whaler and
later handed over to a trawler.
On an island, some half a mile away, numerous fires had sprung up,
started apparently by fragments of burning cordite, and such had been
the force of the explosion that a cutter, weighing over two tons, had
passed right between the masts of the next ship in the line.
Our boat remained in the vicinity of the disaster for some time, but
could find no survivors to pick up, and so they had sadly to return to
the ship.
When next morning I was awakened by Campbell and told of the tragedy
which had taken place while I slept, I could hardly believe it. Leaping
out of my hammock, I ran up on deck to see for myself.... Alas, it was
too true, for where only last night the _Vanguard_ had lain, nothing
was now visible but a few patches of oil floating on the calm surface
of the harbour.
Collecting my gear, I went down to the bathroom, where I found five
members of her gunroom, who, having been at one of the Fleet Theatre
shows the night before, had escaped the disaster, and had been sent to
us pending the holding of a court of inquiry. They were naturally the
centre of an excited crowd, who all seemed to expect them to be able
to give some information, in spite of the fact that as they were in
another ship, and more than a mile away at the time of the explosion,
they had both heard and seen rather less than ourselves.
That afternoon they were sent off to an auxiliary cruiser, where they
were confronted with the melancholy task of trying to identify such
portions of human bodies as had been recovered along the foreshore and
floating in the sea. It is not to be wondered at that they returned in
the evening in a very dismal and morbid frame of mind.
During the day, parties from many of the ships were detailed to search
the neighbouring islands for the log, ledger, and other registers kept
on board H.M.'s ships, as these may sometimes afford a clue to the
cause of an accident, and in any case it is obvious that such highly
confidential documents as wireless and signal books must not be
allowed to fall into unauthorized hands.
In the afternoon I saw piled on our quarter-deck a quantity of
salvage, among which were an officer's overcoat, two seamen's bags, an
empty small arms ammunition box, and some Service books; the latter
were so scorched and so covered with oil fuel as to be practically
undecipherable, as was the case with nearly all papers recovered.
Divers were sent down to inspect the wreck, of which, however, little
remained to afford a clue to the cause of the disaster. Of masts and
funnels there was no sign, and only two turrets, minus roofs and
guns, were found at some distance from the rest of the debris. It was
discovered that all magazines except one had blown up.
There was universal rejoicing when some two weeks after the tragic end
of the luckless _Vanguard_, and about a week after the conclusion of
exams., the whole Fleet moved to another base. Here we were much more
in touch with civilization, for a large town with quite respectable
shops was within reach.
On the first opportunity I went ashore, and, in wilful disregard of
the proverb which warns us not to count our chickens before they are
hatched, invested in a nice new pair of gold stripes, and got the
ship's tailor to sew them on to the sleeves of one of my coats, in
hopeful anticipation that I might shortly be entitled to wear them. One
day, before we had received the official intimation of our promotion,
Campbell and I met another of our term who, having already heard of
his success, was duly invested, so to speak. Evidently suffering from
swollen head, he greeted us with the offensive remark: "Hallo! you
_Snotties_!" ... But when we received the joyful news, we too swaggered
into town, feeling as conscious of our arms as though we had been newly
vaccinated and taken well, and hoping to encounter some of our less
fortunate fellows to whom we could pass on that swanky greeting!... But
no luck!
After the exams. we had become Super-Snotties, and as such not
required to do any of an ordinary Midshipman's duties, but the
Commander would not put us on to watch-keeping until we had actually
"shipped our stripes," so we had, in the graceful lingo of the gunroom,
absolutely "stink all" to do for nearly three weeks, and could go
ashore every day if we pleased. Now, however, this blissful period was
at an end, and we had to begin watch-keeping. After our slack time we
thought this dreadfully hard work, although we only had to keep two
watches a day for two days running, and then had three days off—and no
night watches at all! In reality this was, of course, very light work,
and I looked back on it with rueful regret when some two months later,
for three solid weeks, most of which were spent at sea, I had to be on
the bridge for twelve hours out of the twenty-four.
It had long been my cherished ambition to be appointed to one of
the smaller craft, in which my work would be much more varied and
responsible than that of a junior officer in a big ship. So, shortly
after receiving promotion, I applied through the Captain to have my
name forwarded with a view to being appointed to the _Vernon_ for the
torpedo control course, which same is the usual preliminary to work in
a destroyer.
On September 1 I duly received my appointment, and I finally left
H.M.S. —— on the 5th.
I arrived in Portsmouth on the 9th, having spent the previous four days
on leave in London. Some dozen other Subs. were about to undergo the
torpedo course, which commenced on the following morning, and we found
that we were to be billeted at the Central Hotel. We were all delighted
at the prospect of living on the "beach," for we foresaw plenty of
opportunity for going to theatres, etc.
H.M.S. _Vernon_ comprises three old wooden hulks—relics of the days
of Nelson—and they are moored at the head of Portsmouth Harbour, and
connected bow to stern by broad gangways. These ships collectively
form the torpedo school of the Navy, and nearly every N.O. at some
period of his career undergoes a course of instruction here.
When next morning we arrived on board we had to traverse the whole
length of the three ships to reach the bows of the farthest, where
the torpedo control room is situated. A fairly extensive knowledge
of torpedoes is necessary in order to pass for Sub-Lieutenant, and
so we already knew all about a "mouldy" as they are called in naval
vernacular. However, this first forenoon, a Chief Petty Officer was
detailed to run through the main essentials in order to refresh our
memories, but most of us, relying on our recently acquired knowledge,
settled down in comfortable corners and dozed until lunch-time. The
course proper commenced in the afternoon. Much to our disgust, about 2
P.M. a signal was received saying that all officers undergoing torpedo
control course were to be billeted in the _Redoubtable_, a very old
battleship, moored at the northern end of the docks, and used as a
depot ship.
At 3.20, work being over for the day, we caught the 3.30 boat to
the beach, and set about transferring our gear to our new temporary
home. We were, however, much relieved to find on inquiry that the
_Redoubtable's_ last boat did not run until 11.30 P.M., so after all
our liberty would not be much curtailed.