THE VOYAGE TO ENGLAND.
_September 29th to October 18th, 1914._
The "Andania" moved out to mid-stream and anchored off Cape Diamond.
The harbour was full of liners, crowded with men in khaki. It was a
great sensation to feel oneself at last merged into the great army
life and no longer free to come and go. I looked at the City and saw
the familiar outline of the Terrace and Chateau Frontenac and, over
all, the Citadel, one of my favourite haunts in times past. A great
gulf separated us now from the life we had known. We began to realize
that the individual was submerged in the great flood of corporate
life, and the words of the text came to me, "He that loseth his life
for My sake shall find it."
The evening was spent in settling down to our new quarters in what
was, especially after the camp at Valcartier, a luxurious home. Dinner
at night became the regimental mess, and the saloon with its sumptuous
furnishings made a fine setting for the nightly gathering of officers.
We lay stationary all that night and on the next evening, Sept. the
29th, at six o'clock we weighed anchor and went at slow speed down the
stream. Several other vessels had preceded us, the orders to move
being sent by wireless. We passed the Terrace where cheer after cheer
went up from the black line of spectators crowded against the railing.
Our men climbed up into the rigging and their cheers went forth to the
land that they were leaving. It was a glorious evening. The sun had
set and the great golden light, fast deepening into crimson, burnt
behind the northern hills and lit up the windows of the houses on the
cliffs of Levis opposite. We moved down past the Custom House. We saw
the St. Charles Valley and the Beauport shore, but ever our eyes
turned to the grim outline of Cape Diamond and the city set upon the
hill. Beside me on the upper deck stood a young officer. We were
talking together and wondering if we should ever see that rock again.
He never did. He and his only brother were killed in the war. We
reached the end of the Island of Orleans, and looking back saw a
deeper crimson flood the sky, till the purple mists of evening hid
Quebec from our view.
We had a lovely sail down the St. Lawrence in superb weather and (p. 026)
three days later entered the great harbour of Gaspe Basin. Here the
green arms of the hills encompassed us, as though Canada were
reluctant to let us go. Gaspe Basin has historical memories for
Canada, for it was there that Wolfe assembled his fleet on his voyage
to the capture of Quebec. We lay at anchor all day, and at night the
moon came up and flooded the great water with light, against which
stood out the black outline of thirty ships, so full of eager and
vigorous life. About midnight I went on deck to contemplate the scene.
The night was calm and still. The vessels lay dark and silent with all
lights screened. The effect was one of lonely grandeur. What was it
going to mean to us? What did fate hold in store? Among those hills,
the outline of which I could now but faintly see, were the lakes and
salmon rivers in the heart of the great forests which make our
Canadian wild life so fascinating. We were being torn from that life
and sent headlong into the seething militarism of a decadent European
feudalism. I was leaning on the rail looking at the track of
moonlight, when a young lad came up to me and said, "Excuse me, Sir,
but may I talk to you for a while? It is such a weird sight that it
has got on my nerves." He was a young boy of seventeen who had come
from Vancouver. Many times afterwards I met him in France and Belgium,
when big things were being done in the war, and we talked together
over that night in Gaspe Basin and the strange thoughts that crowded
upon us then. He was not the only one in that great fleet of
transports who felt the significance of the enterprise.
On Saturday afternoon we resumed our journey and steamed out of the
narrows. Outside the bay the ships formed into a column of three abreast,
making a line nine miles in length. Several cruisers, and later a
battleship and battle cruiser, mounted guard over the expedition. Off
Cape Race, the steamship "Florizel" joined us, bringing the Newfoundland
troops. Our family party was now complete.
It was indeed a family party. On every ship we had friends. It seemed
as if Canada herself were steaming across the ocean. Day after day, in
perfect weather, keeping our relative positions in absolute order, we
sped over the deep. There was none of the usual sense of loneliness
which characterizes the ocean voyage. We looked at the line of vessels
and we felt that one spirit and one determination quickened the whole
fleet into individual life.
On board the "Andania" the spirit of the men was excellent. There (p. 027)
was physical drill daily to keep them fit. There was the gymnasium for
the officers. We had boxing matches for all, and sword dances also for
the Highlanders. In the early morning at five-thirty, the pipers used
to play reveille down the passages. Not being a Scotsman, the music
always woke me up. At such moments I considered it my duty to try to
understand the music of the pipes. But in the early hours of the
morning I made what I thought were discoveries. First I found out that
all pipe melodies have the same bass. Secondly I found out that all
pipe melodies have the same treble. On one occasion the pipers left
the security of the Highlanders' quarters and invaded the precincts of
the 14th Battalion, who retaliated by turning the hose on them. A
genuine battle between the contending factions was only averted by the
diplomacy of the O.C.
I had made friends with the wireless operators on board the ship, and
every night I used to go up to their cabin on the upper deck and they
would give me reports of the news which had been flashed out to the
leading cruiser. They told me of the continued German successes and of
the fall of Antwerp. The news was not calculated to act as a soothing
nightcap before going to bed. I was sworn to secrecy and so I did not
let the men know what was happening at the front. I used to look round
at the bright faces of the young officers in the saloon and think of
all that those young fellows might have to endure before the world was
saved. It gave everyone on board a special sacredness in my eyes, and
one felt strangely inadequate and unworthy to be with them.
The men lived below decks and some of them were packed in pretty
tightly. Had the weather been rough there would have been a good deal
of suffering. During the voyage our supply of flour gave out, but as
we had a lot of wheat on board, the men were set to grind it in a
coffee mill. More than fifty per cent of the men, I found, were
members of the Church of England, and so I determined to have a
celebration of Holy Communion, for all who cared to attend, at five
o'clock every morning. I always had a certain number present, and very
delightful were these services at that early hour. Outside on deck we
could hear the tramp and orders of those engaged in physical drill,
and inside the saloon where I had arranged the altar there knelt a
small gathering of young fellows from various parts of Canada, who
were pleased to find that the old Church was going with them on (p. 028)
their strange pilgrimage. The well-known hymn--
"Eternal Father strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave"
had never appealed to me much in the past, but it took on a new
meaning at our Sunday church parade, for we all felt that we were a
rather vulnerable body in any determined attack that might be made
upon us by the German navy. Now and then vessels would be sighted on
the horizon and there was always much excitement and speculation as to
what they might be. We could see the cruisers making off in the
direction of the strangers and taking a survey of the ocean at long
range.
One day a man on the "Royal George" fell overboard, and a boat was
instantly lowered to pick him up. The whole fleet came to a
standstill and all our glasses were turned towards the scene of
rescue. Often in our battles when we saw the hideous slaughter of
human beings, I have thought of the care for the individual life which
stopped that great fleet in order to save one man.
Our destination, of course, was not known to us. Some thought we might
go directly to France, others that we should land in England. When at
last, skirting the south coast of Ireland, we got into the English
Channel, we felt more than ever the reality of our adventure. I believe
we were destined for Southampton; but rumour had it that a German
submarine was waiting for us in the Channel, so we turned into the
harbour of Plymouth. It was night when we arrived. A low cloud and
mist hung over the dark choppy waves of the Channel. From the forts at
Plymouth and from vessels in the harbour, long searchlights moved like
the fingers of a great ghostly hand that longed to clutch at something.
We saw the small patrol boats darting about in all directions and we
felt with a secret thrill that we had got into that part of the world
which was at war. We arrived at Plymouth on the evening of October
14th, our voyage having lasted more than a fortnight. Surely no
expedition, ancient or modern, save that perhaps which Columbus led
towards the undiscovered continent of his dreams, was ever fraught
with greater significance to the world at large. We are still too
close to the event to be able to measure its true import. Its real
meaning was that the American continent with all its huge resources,
its potential value in the ages to come, had entered upon the sphere
of world politics, and ultimately would hold in its hands the sceptre
of world dominion. Even the British thought that we had come (p. 029)
merely to assist the Mother Country in her difficulties. Those who
were at the helm in Canada, however, knew that we were not fighting
for the security of the Mother Country only, but for the security of
Canadian nationalism itself. Whatever the ages hold in store for us in
this great and rich Dominion which stretches from sea to sea and from
the river unto the world's end, depended upon our coming out victors
in the great European struggle.