GUNROOM LIFE IN THE 'SEVENTIES
During my school days, owing, I suppose, to my thorough dislike of the
whole process of education, I made up my mind to go into the Navy if
I could get the necessary permission from my father, so as to escape
from school once and for all. I am afraid that I had not reckoned
on the amount of elementary mathematics, which I detested even more
than Latin grammar, that was to be forced into me during the fifteen
months' training in the _Britannia_. Anyhow it was decreed that the
Navy should be my profession, and I was taken down to Portsmouth in
the summer of 1869 to try to pass the examination for candidates for
Naval Cadetships, the necessary nomination having been procured through
the kindness of a cousin of my mother, then Captain Beauchamp Seymour,
Naval Private Secretary to the First Lord of the Admiralty of that day,
who subsequently became Admiral Lord Alcester, of whom more anon.
Naturally, every candidate was submitted to a medical examination which
took place at Haslar Hospital. In those days Army and Navy Surgeons
had not developed into lace-clad Generals and Inspector-Generals.
(Incidentally I can never understand why a man who is by profession a
doctor or surgeon should want to call himself a colonel. To my mind
a captain in the Navy might just as logically call himself a dean,
or a commander-in-chief an archbishop!) The Superintendent of Haslar
was a Post-Captain, Wodehouse by name. He had lately returned from
commanding a line-of-battleship in the Mediterranean, Admiral Sir
Robert Smart being his Commander-in-Chief at that time. It was always
spread abroad that Captain Wodehouse was on extremely bad terms with
Bobby Smart, which was the pet name of his Commander-in-Chief, but,
on the other hand, his great friend on the Station was the French
Commander-in-Chief, who in those days was very apt to be at Malta
with his squadron, as the _entente_ which existed during the Crimean
Campaign was still kept going during the late 'sixties. As may be
imagined, he did not have many opportunities of getting even with his
Chief, but on one occasion he may be said to have had the best of it.
His vessel was leaving Malta for England and was moving majestically
out of the Grand Harbour, Valetta, with the band on the poop and all
the usual pomp and circumstance. Wodehouse knew that the French Admiral
was on board the English flagship, so as a parting shot, as he passed
under the flagship's stern, the band was ordered to play, "Robert, toi
que j'aime." This affecting farewell was a delight to the Frenchman,
who could not resist telling Smart how fond he was of "ce cher
Wodehouse qui avait tant d'esprit."
I succeeded in passing my examinations, both medical and scholastic,
all right, and after a few weeks' suspense I was informed by the
Admiralty that I was to join the _Britannia_ at Dartmouth in
September. That training-ship has so often been described that I do not
think it necessary to say much about it; but a few words may be written
about the impressions that my first introduction to the Navy conveyed
to my youthful mind. The Captain of the _Britannia_ was at that time
Captain Corbett, a very distinguished officer, and, to the cadets, an
awe-inspiring figure when he inspected our ranks on Sundays with his
ribbon of the C.B. (a really prized distinction in days when orders and
ribbons were very sparsely bestowed), and the sash over his shoulder
that was then worn by the Naval Aide-de-Camp to the Sovereign. The
fashion in hair at that time was very different from the present Navy
fashion, when everyone is either bearded or clean-shaven. In 1869, just
before Mr. Childers allowed beards to be grown, every officer and man
had to shave his upper lip and chin, the result being that the young
bloods of the quarter and lower decks delighted in appearing in long
Dundreary whiskers.
The _Britannia_ was a good school in its way, for the amount of hard
knowledge in the shape of the elements of navigation and mathematics
that we were made to absorb in twelve months was rather remarkable;
but the old hulk was not particularly sanitary, and we were shamefully
underfed, considering the amount of school work and drill that we had
to do. During my year there I personally lost a good deal of time owing
to a simultaneous outbreak of smallpox and scarlatina that occurred in
1870. I was unfortunate enough to develop the scarlatina and was at
once put behind a canvas screen, which was supposed to separate me
from my fellow-cadets, whilst waiting for the boat to take me ashore
to the sick quarters. Unfortunately for me, another cadet was attacked
with smallpox that same morning; so, to save trouble, we two wretched
boys were coupled together behind the same screen, for, as the doctor
sagely remarked, it was very uncommon for anybody to have smallpox
and scarlatina at the same time. I, unfortunately, thanks to his
speculative philosophy, succeeded in getting both, with the result that
I was extremely ill, and was put considerably back with my studies.
There is no period of my life that I look back upon with less
pleasure than I do to the time I spent in the _Britannia_. Whilst
admitting that the instruction was good--indeed very good--it was
rather overdone considering the average age of the boys--between
thirteen and fifteen--and, as I have already said, the food was
disgracefully bad and scanty. To show how hungry we were, it became
a regular practice of the cadets when passing a bluejacket to drop a
handkerchief with sixpence knotted into the corner, the handkerchief
being surreptitiously returned in the course of a few minutes with
bits of ship's biscuit wrapped up in it instead of the sixpence. I
think that all of us--and by all of us I mean the fifty cadets who had
joined together in the autumn of 1869--were rejoiced when our release
came in December 1870. I was fortunate enough to take a first-class,
which meant that I was raised to the dignity of a midshipman at once
instead of having to wait for three, six or nine months, according to
the class taken on passing out. I may as well confess that, as a matter
of fact, I was first of the whole term, and was probably conceited and
odious on the strength of it. The conceit only lasted till I joined
a sea-going ship, where, naturally, no one cared a straw whether a
midshipman was first or last when he left the _Britannia_; and as I had
acquired a certain amount of philosophy, even at that early age, it
was brought home to me that the only individual who benefited in the
least by my exploits was my father, for the grateful country bestowed
a regulation dirk and a spy-glass upon me as prizes, both of which
necessaries would otherwise have been supplied by an outfitter and paid
for by my parent.
And now to mention some of my contemporaries who have arrived at
distinction. A good many of the survivors I still meet from time to
time, and they include Admiral Sir Berkeley Milne, Admiral of the Fleet
Sir Hedworth Meux, and that really authentic specimen of the "bravest
of the brave," Admiral Sir James Startin. Jimmy Startin, from his youth
up, was one of those very rare and fortunate individuals who have
absolutely no sense or knowledge of fear. He has distinguished himself
by his splendid personal bravery a hundred times, but perhaps never
more so than when, as a man of over sixty years of age and Commodore
of a squadron of patrol vessels, he boarded a burning patrol vessel
that was in momentary danger of blowing up and attempted to rescue the
engineer of that vessel. For this gallant exploit he was decorated by
the King with the Albert Medal, and I cannot do better than quote the
official account which appeared in the _London Gazette_:--
"_Gazette_, 20th August, 1918:--
"ADMIRAL SIR JAMES STARTIN, K.C.B.
"An explosion occurred on board H.M. Motor-launch 64 on the
10th June, 1918. Immediately after the explosion Commodore
Startin proceeded alongside Motor-launch 64, the engine-room
of which was still burning fiercely. On learning that the
engineer was below he sprang down the hatch without the
slightest hesitation and succeeded in recovering the body
practically unaided. In view of the fact that the bulkhead
between the engine-room and the forward tanks had been blown
down by the force of the explosion, and that the fire was
blazing upon the side and on the top of the forward tanks,
which are composed of extremely thin metal, and consequently
were liable to burst at any moment, the action of Commodore
Startin in entering the engine-room before the fire was
subdued showed the utmost possible gallantry and disregard
of personal safety. Had the engineer not been past human aid
he would undoubtedly have owed his life to the courage and
promptitude of Commodore Startin."
Of course there were several others who arrived at the rank of Admiral,
and amongst them may be mentioned a very dear old friend, the late
Sir Frederick Hamilton, who, after serving as Second Sea Lord and as
Commander-in-Chief at Rosyth during the War, practically succumbed as
the result of a long period of overwork.
After the labours of the _Britannia_ a fairly long holiday was very
pleasant, and my first appointment after a Christmas spent at home,
was to the guardship, H.M.S. _Duke of Wellington_, at Portsmouth,
whilst waiting to be appointed to a sea-going ship. Anything worse
for the morals and discipline of a number of lads of our age than
life aboard the guardships of those days, it is hard to imagine.
We were nearly a hundred in the mess. In the gunroom there were a
certain number of sub-lieutenants and assistant paymasters who were
actually serving in the ship for various duties and were known as
"standing numbers." The steward treated them on a sort of favoured
nation basis, supplying them with all the best of the food at minimum
prices, wisely making a large profit out of the supernumeraries like
ourselves, who, being there for only a short time--anything from a few
days to a few months--were obviously sent there by Providence and the
Admiralty for that particular object. There was one very remarkable
specimen of a "standing number" of a gunroom mess in the guardship at
that time. He was an elderly, white-haired gentleman of about fifty
years of age--a man of fifty is certainly elderly for a gunroom. His
rank was that of Acting Navigating Sub-Lieutenant. He had passed his
preliminary examination for Master's Mate, as they were then called,
some thirty years before, had never presented himself for the final
examination--which, successfully passed, would have confirmed him in
his rank--and so an acting master's mate or sub-lieutenant he had
remained ever since.
The _Duke of Wellington_ period lasted only a very few weeks, but
long enough to earn me my first certificate from my first captain
afloat, Captain the Hon. Richard Carr Glyn, then Flag-Captain to the
Commander-in-Chief at Portsmouth, and who subsequently commanded the
_Serapis_ on the occasion of the late King Edward's visit to India
when Prince of Wales. The certificate I allude to was bestowed on all
officers by all the captains under whom they served, whether for days
or years, and to my mind was couched in the most insulting terms. I
suspect it to have been composed by some more than usually red-tapeist
specimen of an Admiralty clerk in the early part of the Victorian
period. It ordained that whatever else the captain liked to say about
an officer he had to testify in writing to his sobriety. I remember,
years afterwards, when I had arrived at a rank that made it my province
to give, instead of to receive, these benefits, the joy with which I
destroyed some dozens of them testifying to my sobriety over a period
of some thirty years. I wonder if they still exist! The permanent
officials and civilian clerks at the Admiralty are not fond of change,
unless it takes the shape of an increase to their own pay, and, human
nature being usually much alike, were I one of them I should probably
take exactly the same view as they do.
In the spring of 1871, when I first went to sea, the Admiralty had
instituted a system of sea-going training-ships, which was abandoned
a few years later and revived, I believe, shortly before the War in a
new scheme of education which was devised by Lord Fisher as First Sea
Lord. I could never understand why the Admiralty ever did away with
it, for, in my opinion, it worked excellently well, and to modernise
it and bring it up to the present date it was only necessary to divert
the time and instruction that used to be devoted to masts and sails to
marine engineering, wireless telegraphy and torpedo work. However, this
dissertation has nothing to do with my reminiscences, so I must return
to my story.
The whole of my "term" in the _Britannia_, still some fifty strong, was
appointed to H.M.S. _Bristol_, a frigate of between 2000 and 3000 tons
that had done duty as flagship at the Cape of Good Hope Station. Our
Captain, the Hon. Walter Carpenter, was thus able to take up his abode
in the quarters designed for an admiral, under the poop, the ordinary
captain's quarters being turned into a mess-room and school-room for
the young gentlemen under training. The ship had her usual complement
of officers and men, and carried, in addition, an extra lieutenant,
sub-lieutenant and assistant paymaster, and two naval instructors
for special duties connected with the cadets. Practically the onus
of directing our training fell upon one man, Lieutenant Day Hort
Bosanquet, who, many years afterwards, I knew as Commander-in-Chief
at Portsmouth. Certainly, it could not have fallen into better hands.
He was a thoroughly good fellow and a gentleman, to begin with, and a
first-rate seaman and disciplinarian to go on with, and though he kept
us all in terrific order he was none the less very popular.
We were worked hard; but anything was preferable to our late home, the
_Britannia_. The routine was somewhat as follows:--We were turned out
of our hammocks just after 6 a.m. Then came gun drill, rifle-drill or
sail-drill on alternate mornings; breakfast at 8 a.m.; after breakfast
we were inspected, and after prayers at 9 a.m. we were put into the
hands of the naval instructors till dinner time at noon. At 1.15 more
school or drill of some sort, and about 5 p.m. the ship's company would
be at sail-drill for the best part of an hour, and we shared in their
exercises of shifting sails, masts, reefing topsails, and all the
manœuvres that were dear to the smart naval officer of that day. In a
very short time we had complete charge of the mizzen masts and drilled
against the men at the fore and main. After evening drill was over we
were left in peace except for about an hour's preparation work for the
next day's studies. On alternate weeks we kept regular night and day
watch under the officers of the ship, and though it was a sad struggle
to turn out of one's hammock, at midnight after a long day, to keep
the middle watch, the discomfort and want of sleep so necessary for a
young growing boy was almost made up for, when the weather was fine and
warm, by the beauty of those tropical nights when the ship was bowling
along under easy sail running down the trades. All our passages were
made under sail, for the steam engine in those days was very rarely
requisitioned unless the ship was becalmed for a very long time or was
entering or leaving a port, to sail in and out of which was impossible.
In those days, I regret to have to say, gunnery in the Navy was
terribly neglected, principally on account of the craze which existed
for smartness aloft. And there was considerable excuse for it, for the
upper yardmen of that time were, to my mind, the finest specimens of
humanity I have ever met. From constantly running the rigging at top
speed, they were in the highest state of training; they were as active
as cats and as brave as lions; for, if once a man showed, when aloft,
the smallest desire to hold on with one hand and work with the other,
instead of chancing everything and working with both, he was useless
as an upper yardman, and was at once relegated to safer and less
ambitious duties. And so the tradition went on and descended to us.
The only quality we really admired in our superior officers was their
seamanship. Anything in the shape of science was a bore, and the only
part of the gun-drill that interested us was the part that resembled
seamanship; the shifting of tackles and breeching, and transporting
the 64-pounders which formed our armament to a different position, the
whole business of the gun in those days having to be done by quoins,
handspikes and tackle. When it came to gun practice, which consisted
in firing at a cask with a small flagstaff bobbing about in the sea,
the one object was to get it over as soon as possible, as it was looked
upon as distinctly uninteresting. Notwithstanding this defect, I still
think that, in those days, the sea-going training did us boys a great
deal of good. Amongst other advantages, when visiting foreign ports we
were made to go and see the principal sights whether we liked it or
not. Probably famous cathedrals, world-famous panoramic views, and such
like, did not appeal to many of us, and we would far sooner have been
left to our own resources; but in after life I have become grateful to
those who first introduced me to some of the wonders of the world.
The _Bristol_ sailed away from Portsmouth in February 1871 on an
eminently fine-weather cruise, most suitable for the raw material on
board her. There is always some sort of a swell when crossing the
Bay, and the new hands were nearly all sea-sick. As for myself, I am
proud to say that I was one of the exceptions; this immunity was due,
I suppose, to the previous voyage that I had made on a sailing ship
to Madeira some dozen years before. Madeira, as a matter of fact, was
our first port of call, and it was interesting to me to see how much
I could remember of that lovely island. A very few days after we were
rolling along in the trades on our way to Rio de Janeiro. At Rio a long
stay was made, for the ship required a certain amount of refitting
after nearly a month at sea under sail, and leave had to be given
to the men. The cadets were taken in a body to Petropolis, a lovely
place up in the hills which was the summer residence of the Court and
the Corps Diplomatique. The beauty of Rio has been so often described
by far abler pens than mine that I refrain from giving any childish
impressions of it; but what we enjoyed most, I well remember, was the
drive back from Petropolis in large coaches with four horses, the one
I was in being actually driven by an old Yorkshire stage-coachman, who
had found his way out to Brazil.
The only very distinct memory I have of the actual town of Rio of those
days (I am glad to say I have revisited it since) was the peculiarity
of the currency. In 1871 a tramway ticket for an ordinary length of
fare was equivalent to sevenpence, English. For this same ticket,
anything of a similar value from a hair-cut to a cocktail could be
purchased, and with a pocket full of tickets a great deal of purchasing
could be done. It was like shopping in a small provincial town with a
pocket full of sixpences. After leaving Rio, the _Bristol_ stood down
to the southward and presently picked up the "Roaring Forties," as the
strong prevailing westerly winds which are found about 40º south of
the equatorial line are called, and stood across to the Cape of Good
Hope, our next port of call. Next to fishing for albatross, with a bit
of meat on the end of a hook and a long fishing line,--a sport which
was occasionally successful,--the greatest excitement was when, as
midshipman of the watch, it came to one's turn to heave the log, for,
with half a gale behind, the old ship was really travelling, and our
great ambition was to be able to chronicle an actual run of 50 nautical
miles in the watch. A steady 12-1/2 knots for four hours consecutively
was not so very easily accomplished, and did not happen very often. It
has to be confessed that the _Bristol_ was not a very fast frigate,
and compared very badly as a sailer with my next two ships of the same
class.
Well, we finally arrived at Simon's Bay, and once more leave and
refitting took place, and there I certainly spent some of the happiest
days of my early youth, thanks to the hospitality of an acquaintance
who had a large farm in the neighbourhood of Constantia, about half-way
between Simon's Bay and Cape Town. This kind man, Watermeyer by name,
had married a daughter of the Rector of Filleigh, the village of
Castle Hill, and hearing that I was on board, asked permission to take
me and a friend away for a week to stay with him. My friend on this
occasion was another cadet of the same standing who was also a cousin,
Francis Stuart Wortley, the present Lord Wharncliffe. Leave having been
granted, we were driven off in glory in Mr. Watermeyer's Cape cart, and
after a drive of some fifteen miles, principally along the coast, we
arrived at our destination. It was one of those typically Dutch houses,
with a stoop or verandah all round, so well suited to the fierce heat
of that delightful climate. Our hostess was delighted to meet old and
new friends and made us most welcome, and later on, when the time
came to go to bed, it was a pleasure to sleep in a good English bed
again, in a room all to oneself, after being accustomed to have one's
worldly surroundings limited to a sea-chest and a hammock. And what
a pleasant country it was! We used to ride for miles over the flats,
which would have made an ideal hunting country, except for the absence
of fences, and were shown the various business establishments in the
neighbourhood. These were principally connected with the wine-making
trade, for vines flourished exceedingly in that part of the Colony, and
wine-making was a very thriving industry.
The world is very small and very round. Nearly forty years later,
during the South African War, it was my fate to meet my old friend's
son, then attached to Lord Robert's Staff as Colonial Aide-de-Camp, I
being Naval Aide-de-Camp to his Lordship at the time.
After a delightful week of freedom, we were back on board again, and
now our bows were turned for home. St. Helena, Ascension, Madeira,
and Gibraltar, were visited in succession, and we finally anchored at
Spithead after an excellent cruise.
The Admiralty had meanwhile decided that our time in training was to
be extended, and as the _Bristol_ was about done for, we cadets--who,
by the way, were by this time nearly all midshipmen, were turned over
to the _Ariadne_, a larger and far more beautiful vessel than our late
one. The _Ariadne_ was one of the crack frigates of her time. She
sailed very well and had been selected for the use of the Prince and
Princess of Wales in the spring of 1867, when their Royal Highnesses
made their Eastern trip to Egypt, Turkey, the Crimea, and Greece.
[Illustration: H.M.S. "ARIADNE" AT NAPLES, 1871]
By this time the season of Christmas was close by. We were all given
leave for Christmas, and early in the New Year joined the _Ariadne_.
Our next destination was the Mediterranean, and, timed to arrive
at Malta, as we were, in the early spring, as far as climate and
surroundings were concerned, nothing could be pleasanter. Our first
passage from Portsmouth to Gibraltar was marred by a very bad boat
accident. We were crossing the Bay heading for Finisterre, running
before a strong breeze and rather a tumbling sea, when, unfortunately,
a man fell overboard. A life-buoy was let go, and the ship was at once
brought to the wind and hove-to; but she was a very long ship for
those days, and by the time she was hove-to the man was some way
off. The life-boat cutter was lowered and pulled off in the direction
of the life-buoy. Unfortunately, the breeze was freshening, and the
sea was becoming heavier every minute, the situation thus becoming
unpleasant. Meanwhile, the boat's crew having ascertained that the man
was no longer hanging on to the buoy--he had let go, doubtless, from
exhaustion--tried to turn round and return to the ship. In turning,
always a very dangerous manœuvre in a bad sea, she broached-to and was
swamped. Another boat was immediately manned, but owing to the heavy
rolling of the ship she swamped alongside, and there we were with about
five-and-twenty men struggling in the water, and with practically no
other boat to lower that was big enough to stand such a sea. Steam had
been got up meanwhile, and the ship, with great difficulty, was brought
as near the survivors as possible. A certain number we managed to get
on board with ropes, but the loss was heavy, for out of those two crews
we lost eleven men and two officers. Of the two officers something
more must be said. By a curious coincidence those two men had been
such bitter enemies during the whole time they had been messmates on
board the _Bristol_ and _Ariadne_, that they had never been known to
speak to each other except on duty when the exigencies of the Service
so required. When the first boat was manned they both happened to be
on deck; they both, with the instinct of gallant men, jumped into the
cutter as volunteers, and the senior of the two took charge of the
boat. They were both drowned together, and it was always a wonder to
my youthful mind as to whether, with death staring them in the face
and only a question of a few minutes, they ever made up their paltry
quarrel? There was yet another curious incident connected with this
affair. Two of the men who were in the boats' crews were survivors
of the _Captain_, a vessel which was lost with nearly all hands and
which was still much talked of in the Navy; both these men were saved,
and after two such escapes, it seemed evident that Providence never
intended that either of them should drown.
The next six months were passed in the _Ariadne_ cruising in the
Mediterranean; Malta, the headquarters of the Mediterranean Fleet,
being our most frequent port of call.
Once again I feel tempted to write a description--a temptation that
must once more be resisted, for no one but the practised artist should
be allowed to attempt to describe, and, moreover, the Grand Harbour of
Valetta has been so often dealt with. But the subject, like the place
itself, has an endless charm for me. For ten years, off and on, I was
on the Mediterranean Station; on countless occasions I have gone in
and out of the Grand Harbour, for I have often revisited the place
in later years; yet, were I transported there to-morrow, I feel sure
that I should be as much impressed with its beauty and charm as ever.
I know no place where there is such a feast of brilliant colour as is
to be met when steaming to a buoy up the Grand Harbour. Every creek
that is passed swarms with gondola-shaped _dhaisas_, painted with all
the colours of the rainbow, the rich ochre-colour of the beautiful
old fortifications, interspersed with the residential dwellings, many
of which are pink with green shutters, and the whole sandwiched, as it
were, between the deep blue of the sky and the still deeper blue of
the Mediterranean, make up a picture which, to me, is unforgettable.
It was at Malta, too, that I really began my operatic career as a
spectator; for, though I had heard Madame Patti at Covent Garden when
I was nine years old, it was at Malta, that I first became an habitué.
It was a cheap luxury in those days, the stalls costing only half a
crown, and even a Naval Cadet could occasionally afford himself that
amount of pleasure. Every one in musical circles of Valetta was still
raving about the then newly discovered prima donna, Emma Albani, who
had fairly captured their hearts during the winter season of 1871, when
she had sung continually at the Opera House of Valetta before being
whisked away to start her triumphant career in London and the world in
general. Though, alas! Albani had gone, the opera was not at all bad,
and as going there was allowed, it was also an excuse for being ashore
in the evening; and so I spent a great many pleasant hours in that
well-ordered little Opera House.
A visit to Naples, was of course, inevitable on an instructional
cruise, and the _Ariadne_ spent some time there also. The "young
gentlemen" were duly taken to Herculaneum and Pompeii to improve their
minds, and I had the chance of hearing more operatic performances in
that colossal Opera House, San Carlo, and, moreover, of studying for
the first time the manners and customs of an Italian audience. Fiercely
critical, with apparently a natural intimate knowledge of singing,
the members of the audience would almost conduct the singer on the
stage by their incessant remarks. They could be the most enthusiastic
audience in the world when really pleased; but, should an unfortunate
singer fail to please them, their brutality (there is no other word!)
was frankly disgusting. I remember a poor woman singing at San Carlo.
She had been a first-class artist in her time, but her voice showed
signs of wear and tear, and the Neapolitans had had enough of her. Six
times running was this poor creature made to repeat her aria in order
that the audience might give themselves the pleasure of hissing and
hooting her, to say nothing of hurling obscene curses at her across the
foot-lights. Were I an artist I fancy I should prefer the cold Covent
Garden audience, who, though inclined to be unenthusiastic, at any rate
could never be induced to insult a woman.
Our stay at Naples was very pleasant, for our taskmasters gave us a
good deal of leave, wisely encouraging us youngsters to see everything
of interest in the neighbourhood, and in an old photograph-book I can
still turn up the inevitable presentment of the Blue Grotto at Capri,
and the extremely artificial waterfall at Caserta,--one of the numerous
Royal Palaces in Italy,--with its barocco groups of glaring white
marble placed at the foot of the falls--Diana and her nymphs on the one
side, and the ill-treated Actæon and his hounds on the other.
But the training-ship period was rapidly coming to an end, and the
autumn of 1872 saw the _Ariadne_ on her way home. She called at Algiers
and Gibraltar, and finally returned to Portsmouth in October, by which
time we had all become real midshipmen and were only waiting our turn
to be appointed to proper sea-going ships to commence our real service
in the British Navy.
In the spring of 1873 I was appointed as midshipman to H.M.S.
_Narcissus_, the flagship of a squadron of six frigates, and under
the command of Rear-Admiral Campbell. This squadron consisted of the
_Narcissus_, _Doris_, _Endymion_, _Aurora_, _Immortalité_ and _Topaz_,
and was officially known as the Flying Squadron. As we were nearly
always at sea, generally engaged in making long sailing passages, and
consequently condemned to live a great deal on the ship's provisions,
the bluejackets bestowed on the squadron the name of "The Hungry Six,"
by which designation it was usually known in the Service.
There was a galaxy of talent on board the _Narcissus_. The
Rear-Admiral, Frederick Campbell, who had earned a considerable
reputation as a smart officer and seaman, had appointed a nephew
of his, Charles Campbell, as his Flag-Lieutenant, and, to make the
thing complete and Scottish, one of his servants was a piper, who, on
guest-nights, used to march round the Admiral's table after dinner,
according to the custom of pipers. Personally, I rather like pipes
in the distance in Scotland, or when they play with troops on the
march; but between decks, where the beams were only six feet high,
the noise made by this solitary specimen of his tribe was enough to
wake the dead. John Ommaney Hopkins, in after years a Lord of the
Admiralty and Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet, was
Flag-Captain, and J. R. Fullerton, who afterwards was for so long the
Admiral of Queen Victoria's Yachts, was Commander. In those days he
had the well-deserved reputation of being one of the very smartest
young Commanders in the Fleet. Our First-Lieutenant was Lieutenant
A. K. Wilson, who, later on, earned the V.C. for his gallantry when
leading his men,--the men of a machine-gun party,--in the Sudan, and
who subsequently became the well-known Admiral of the Fleet, Sir Arthur
Wilson. Another officer of the ship, a perfectly undistinguished one,
was our Naval Instructor. I have forgotten his name, but will call him
"Mr. Smith." Mr. Smith suited the midshipmen perfectly; as long as they
did not bother him he never bothered them, so we strolled in and out
during study hours at our own sweet wills. One day he announced his
approaching marriage, and invited all those of us that could get leave
to the ceremony. We all knew his fiancée, for she was the barmaid at a
small hotel where we youngsters used to foregather when ashore. I was
one of the fortunate few present at the wedding breakfast given by the
proprietor of the hotel, whose speech, when proposing the health of the
happy pair, I can never forget, and I recommend it to any gentleman who
happens to find himself placed in the position of orator on similar
occasions. It was to this effect: "When the courtship began he (the
hotel proprietor) had rather feared that the whole thing would end in a
liaison (pronounced ly-a-son), but Mr. Smith, to his great surprise and
pleasure, had behaved honourably and had married the girl!"
Shortly after I joined at Plymouth the squadron was reported ready for
sea, but before starting we came in for one of the most furious and
sudden gales that I can recollect. We were lying in the Sound at the
time, and I remember I was midshipman of the afternoon watch on that
Sunday, and though the glass was falling ominously the weather was so
lovely that it did not seem worth while to disturb the ship's company,
who invariably on Sunday afternoons sleep the sleep of the just, there
being apparently plenty of time to make everything snug for the night
later on. Suddenly, without any warning, a terrific squall struck the
ship, and though the water inside the mole was perfectly calm, so great
was the force of the wind that the spray was lifted bodily from the
surface of the water and became in a moment absolutely blinding, and
the boats at the boom were in danger of being swamped. The hands were
at once turned up, the boats were hoisted just in time, nearly full
of water from the spray that had been driven into them. Top-gallant
masts were struck, two more anchors were let go (as we had begun to
drag towards Drake's Island), steam was got up, and we steamed to
our anchors almost all the night, during the whole of which time the
wind was blowing with almost hurricane force. In the morning the gale
abated, and then one could get some idea of what had been going on.
One of our consorts, the _Aurora_, anchored close to us, had parted her
cable. Luckily, the spare anchors brought her up, and she too had been
steaming up to her anchors all night. In addition to this, there were
no less than six merchant ships of different sizes ashore in the Sound
around various parts of the coast.
We left Plymouth shortly afterwards, the West Indies being our
destination, via the inevitable Madeira. On our way out we experienced
even worse weather than that which I have already described--worse
because it lasted so much longer. For a whole week the entire squadron
was hove-to under storm-sails in the Bay, and the _Narcissus_, though
a first-rate sea boat and magnificently handled, suffered a good
deal. She was old and the seams were inclined to open, and, moreover,
two of the gun ports on the main deck were driven in by a heavy sea;
consequently she shipped so much water that there was hardly a dry
place in the whole vessel. All this time hammocks were never stowed,
so the moment our watch was over we midshipmen used to turn in, our
hammocks being the only comparatively dry place to be found. We really
rather enjoyed this novel condition, as though we were constantly
employed on deck, seeing to the extra security of the guns and a
hundred and one odds and ends, at any rate school and drill were out of
the question.
I now have to ask pardon for being tiresomely technical, as I must
allude to one of the bravest and smartest bits of seamanship that I
have ever witnessed. During the height of the gale the outer bobstay
carried away. The bobstays on the bowsprit of a sailing-ship do the
duty of supporting that important spar, on the safety of which depends
the foremast, the main top-mast, and hence practically the whole of the
great fabric of masts and yards. Our First-Lieutenant, the A. K. Wilson
before alluded to, the boatswain, and the captain of the forecastle
managed to hang a grating under the bowsprit to give them something
to stand on, and then proceeded to execute the necessary repairs. For
many hours these three intrepid men laboured at this most difficult
job, alternately up to their necks in water as the bows of the ship
plunged into the sea, and then high up some fifty feet above it when
she recovered herself and took her pitch upwards. Their labour was
rewarded, for the bowsprit was saved, and one likes to remember what a
mere matter of course it was considered in those non-advertising days.
In more modern times one has seen brass bands and local mayors meeting
the heroes of far less dangerous and difficult exploits, after the
necessary "boom" has been judiciously engineered.
During the gale the squadron was dispersed and lost all knowledge of
each other. However, the rendezvous had been given as Vigo, and at Vigo
we all eventually turned up, and from thence proceeded to Madeira.
And now to say something about the life of a midshipman in those days.
We had,--besides a good deal of so-called study which was imparted
to us by a naval instructor, and a considerable amount of drill,--to
keep regular watch in four reliefs; the only time we ever ceased to
keep watch was on being put in charge of a boat in harbour. To be in
charge of a boat was considered rather an honour. Steam launches were
rare,--even a large frigate carried only one, and that one merely
an ordinary pulling boat with a small rattletrap engine bolted into
it, the maximum speed being about six knots,--so practically all the
boat-work of a ship was done under oars and under sail, and great
fun it was. But the really important business was, of course, the
sail-drill, ship against ship, that took place every evening when
at sea, and to a limited extent twice a day in harbour. There was a
terrific competition of the most jealous nature; the upper yardmen,
upon whose smartness it mainly depended, used to carry their jealousy
so far as to pick quarrels with their principal opponents directly
they got ashore together. For the sake of general peace and quietness,
and the comfort of the local police, it eventually became necessary
to give certain ships' companies leave on different days, to prevent
the eternal battles they used to fight on shore where there was no
discipline to restrain them.
A sailing cruise round the West Indies sounds extremely like a yachting
excursion, but, in absolute fact, a journey performed by a squadron of
sailing frigates keeping meticulous station under sail, and sometimes
having to make short tacks every five minutes or so, to come into their
anchorage, and all this in tropical heat, does not seem to have much of
the yacht connected with it.
The days and months passed by quickly enough, if in somewhat
monotonous fashion, until the spring of 1874, when we were ordered to
reinforce the Mediterranean Fleet, then under the command of Admiral
Sir Hastings Yelverton. Sir Hastings was then flying his flag on board
the _Lord Warden_, one of our very early iron-clads. She really merited
the name of iron-clad, for she was a wooden ship with wrought-iron
plates bolted on to her. Sir Hastings was himself quite one of the
best specimens of the great sea officer of those days. A very fine
gentleman, with a thorough knowledge of the world, he was an invaluable
servant to his country at that particular moment, as Spain was in a
state of semi-revolution, and it was fortunate for England that the
Commander-in-Chief united in his person all the best characteristics
of the diplomatist, the man of the world, and the sailor. The trouble
began from the Naval point of view, when the Revolutionary party
seized two Spanish men-of-war of considerable size and importance,
the _Vittoria_ and _Almanza_, and started on what was probably going
to be a piratical cruise in foreign waters. The British Navy, amongst
its other numerous duties, has always been busy in the suppression of
piracy, so that in a very few days the _Vittoria_ and _Almanza_ were
duly rounded up, the crews landed, and the ships themselves safely
interned at Gibraltar. The next move of the Intransigentes,--as the
revolutionary party called themselves,--was to seize the forts that
commanded the arsenal of Carthagena, and they then took possession
of the greater part of the Spanish Fleet. Our Mediterranean Fleet
promptly went to Carthagena and the neighbouring ports on the east
coast of Spain to watch the course of events. Being short of funds,
the Intransigentes conceived the idea of cruising down their own
coast, sticking to territorial waters, and demanding money from all
the towns along the coast. In case of refusal the towns were to be
bombarded. In the interest of humanity the English Fleet used to hover
round and place themselves between the Intransigente Fleet and the
shore, and insist on forty-eight hours' grace being given to enable
the women and children to be removed to a place of safety. The local
Carthagenan butcher, who, I think, was for the moment the Intransigente
admiral, was given to understand that unless he complied with the
request of the British admiral, he and his squadron would, in all
probability, be blown sky high. Being a sensible man, he did as he was
told, but, occasionally, after the necessary interval on which we had
insisted had expired, a bombardment would take place. I was present
at one, and enjoyed the spectacle most thoroughly. Alicante was the
town in question. In the way of defence it possessed a charming old
sixteenth-century citadel, as well as two or three little batteries
on the beach that could just manage to return a salute. None the
less, the Governor of Alicante, on being asked "for his money or his
life," with true Spanish chivalry, firmly declined to pay any sort
of ransom, manned his little popguns, and prepared for the worst.
We, as usual, were anchored between the town and the Intransigente
squadron, and after the forty-eight hours' interval had come to an
end we retired like "seconds out of the ring," purposely taking as
long as possible over this necessary manœuvre. Then the fun began. The
Intransigentes, some of whose ships were very heavily armoured for
those days (they carried 9-inch guns, which really were 240-pounders),
began to bombard, and the citadel and batteries returned the fire. At
that time I was midshipman of the foretop, so up there I ensconced
myself, and a splendid view I got of the whole proceedings. It was a
deliciously comic performance. The Intransigente shooting was so bad
that the proverbial haystack would have been quite safe. Indeed, as we
saw later when we landed, they could not even hit a town, and barring
a few broken windows there was no harm done at all, and no casualties.
The shore defenders meanwhile fired little round shots that went
skipping along the top of the water until they were tired and sank. It
is needless to remark that had they actually hit one of the iron-clad
vessels at which they were directed, they would have had no more effect
than the classical patting of the dome of St. Paul's would have had
on the Dean and Chapter. After a few hours of this performance, the
Intransigentes wearied of it and went on to some other coast town to
try their luck there, shadowed by another portion of Sir Hastings'
fleet. The captain of the foretop, who was a great friend of mine,
was much looked up to by his top mates as a sort of encyclopædia of
knowledge of all sorts, so I was much amused to hear the following
conversation, which, of course, was not intended for my chaste ears,
while I was looking through my spy-glass at the bombardment. The
captain of the foretop was being interrogated: "Bill, 'oo is that there
'ere Queen of Spain at all?" Bill replied: "The Queen, she's a . . ."
and then followed a string of lurid adjectives, leading up to the
suggestion that the royal lady in question belonged to what Rudyard
Kipling calls the oldest profession in the world.
I did not see much more of the Intransigente Fleet, but not long
afterwards it brought its cruising to an inglorious end. The Spaniards
succeeded in getting together a few loyal ships under a real admiral,
as a means of putting an end to this potential piracy. Just before
the expected general engagement could take place, the Intransigente
admiral,--who, though doubtless he may have known a great deal about
bullocks and sheep, was woefully deficient in knowledge of fleet
manœuvring,--succeeded in ramming and sinking one of his own squadron.
This untoward incident upset his nerve and that of his companions to
such an extent that the whole of his fleet ignominiously surrendered.
Shortly after the Intransigente episode considerable changes were
made in the personnel of the senior officers of the _Narcissus_.
Rear-Admiral Campbell hauled down his flag and was succeeded by
Rear-Admiral Randolph, the Captain and Commander were relieved, and
our First-Lieutenant was about the same time promoted to the rank of
Commander and left us. With the exception of the ship's company and
junior officers, the _Narcissus_ had become almost a new ship, and
of course there was the usual grousing that always takes place on
these occasions among the junior officers. To our experienced minds
nothing that was new _could_ be right, and I must confess that so
far as efficient seamanship and smartness aloft were concerned, the
old lot could hardly have been improved on. The squadron remained
in the Mediterranean, but was no longer closely attached to the
Commander-in-Chief, and went eastward for a cruise in the Levant.
Amongst other ports visited was Smyrna, and there a couple of my
messmates and I got into rather considerable trouble. The Consul at
Smyrna had arranged a special train to give the Admiral and Officers
of the squadron a chance of visiting Ephesus, where a number of
archæologists were then busy excavating the celebrated Temple of Diana.
We, in our wisdom, thought it would be dull work going up with a number
of officers, most of whom would be our seniors as the companions of
this excursion, so having hired horses, we slipped away early in the
morning and proceeded to ride some thirty miles up country to Ephesus.
Of course we never dreamt of bothering about a guide or any detail
of that kind, but somehow or another midshipmen generally manage to
turn up at their destination, and after a delightful ride over a fine
grass country, we arrived all right. Meanwhile, unfortunately for us,
the Flag-Lieutenant had, in a casual way, mentioned to the Admiral at
breakfast that three of the youngsters had started to ride up. The
Admiral had been previously warned by the Consul that the country
outside Smyrna is infested with brigands, and on account of the bother
that it would have given him had anything happened to us, he was full
of wrath, which was eventually to descend on our innocent heads. Orders
were at once sent ashore to the Consul to inform the Turkish Governor,
and altogether such a fuss was made that eventually a squadron of
Turkish cavalry was sent out to get hold of us and bring us back. By
this time we had about three hours' start, and as, probably, from what
I know of Turks, the Cavalry did not hurry over much, they never got
near us. None the less, when we arrived at Ephesus our troubles began.
We were looking about for some place to put up and feed our horses,
preparatory to feeding ourselves in view of our ride back, when we
happened unluckily to meet the Flag-Captain, who got into what we
thought a most unnecessary state of rage, and ordered us at once to get
into the train and go back in that comparatively undignified conveyance
to Smyrna, then to go straight on board the ship, and report ourselves
as prisoners under close arrest. This was a bore of course, but with
my usual philosophy I consoled myself with the reflection that, as a
prisoner, I should not have to keep any watch that night, and would
have a good night in, which would be infinitely preferable to walking
the deck for four hours after a long outing. The first part of the
programme was carried out all right, but, to my disgust, when I tried
to excuse myself for not going on duty, pleading that, as a prisoner,
I was incapable of doing duty, the Commander calmly informed me that I
was temporarily released, so on watch I had to go.
Our arrest lasted about a month and came to an end very unexpectedly.
Somehow or other (we youngsters, who were naturally the severest of
critics, all thought from very faulty seamanship) the _Narcissus_
and another ship of the squadron took the ground rather badly off
the coast of Sicily. Of course there was a Court-martial, and to our
intense delight our Captain was dismissed his ship and our arrest came
to a triumphant conclusion. With the usual pitilessness of youth, we
looked upon it as a judgment upon our superior officer, and to round
the episode off nicely, I, having been just relieved from watch when
the ship went aground, was one of the witnesses at the Court-martial.
I am ashamed to say that our delight when the sentence was promulgated
was scarcely, to say the least of it, decent, and when the unfortunate
Captain returned on board to turn over his command to an acting
successor who was at once appointed, he must have almost heard the
uproarious cheering in the midshipmen's berth. What brutes boys are!
Nothing particularly exciting happened during the rest of my time in
the _Narcissus_. She was paid off in the summer of 1874 on her return
to England, and I managed to get some leave whilst waiting for an
appointment to a new ship.
In August 1874 the appointment came, and the "new ship" turned out
to be the _Audacious_, fitted out at Chatham as the flagship of
Vice-Admiral Ryder, a distant connection of my own, who had been
appointed to the command of the China Station.
The _Audacious_ and her sister ships, one of which was the _Vanguard_
which was sunk later by another sister, the _Iron Duke_, in a
collision in the Channel, were a type of middle-sized battleships
evolved about that period by the Chief Constructor of the Navy and his
Naval Advisors at the Admiralty. I have seen some fairly useless types
of vessels produced in my time, but really the "Audacious" type was
almost unique in that way. Fairly heavily masted and barque rigged, the
_Audacious_ could not even sail with a fair wind, for it was impossible
to steer her unless the engines were kept going. With considerable
horse-power her full trial speed was barely twelve knots; indeed I do
not think that in the whole of her career, which was a long one, she
could ever really do ten knots for six consecutive hours. The main
armament consisted of 9-inch muzzle-loading guns. These guns were very
much on the same lines as the modern howitzer as far as length was
concerned. This type of weapon had such a high trajectory that it was
practically useless unless the range was known within 100 yards, an
almost impossible condition at sea. They were mounted on what was known
as the Box Battery System--a name that described the battery so well
that any further explanation is superfluous, and, as the name implies,
the whole formed the most perfect shell-trap that could be conceived
by the ingenuity of man. There is always a reason for everything, and
there was some sort of reason for the "Audacious" class. The Navy in
the early 'seventies was mad on the subject of ramming. The lesson
was, of course, learnt from what had occurred at Lissa, but probably
it was terribly over-applied. There was a consequent craze for what
were supposed to be short, handy ships, and that was where the failure
of the system came in. They were short, but they were never handy,
for shortness can never make up for the consequent loss of speed and
bad steering. However, having served for nearly four years in sailing
frigates, I was duly impressed by the size and magnificence of this new
monster of the ocean. It was only by experience that we learnt what an
appallingly bad ship ours was, even as compared with already existing
types.
I must now say something about the superior officers. Admiral Ryder had
the reputation of being an extremely erudite and scientific officer,
so naturally we midshipmen distrusted him instinctively. I saw a great
deal of him later on, and a kinder and more amiable old gentleman
never lived. Captain Philip Colomb was his Flag-Captain. He, at any
rate, was a very able man, and, far in advance of his time, was one of
the earliest advocates of the abolition of masts and yards, as being
useless appendages and a danger in action. How right he was we know
by our modern Navy; and the experience he was about to acquire,--I
allude to what I have already written about the sailing qualities of
the _Audacious_,--could only have confirmed his judgment. Our Commander
was the present Admiral Sir Cyprian Bridge, so--as in the _Narcissus_
(though of a totally different stamp),--I was again fortunate enough
to be serving under a very distinguished group of officers. Two or
three of the midshipmen in the _Audacious_ had been in the _Narcissus_
before, and it is needless to relate how convinced we were that,
as seamen, we were sure to compare very favourably with the poor
unfortunates who had only had experience of life at sea in what we
irreverently called a tin pot.
Chatham was a foul locality in those days, and, for all I know, may
still be unattractive. The only incident I remember well, however, was
the excitement in the Dockyard when the then Princess of Wales, in the
heyday of her exquisite beauty, came down to christen her godchild,
the _Alexandra_, which was launched about that time. Soon after this
the _Audacious_ sailed for her Station, and we began to realise
what we were in for in our new ship. One good point she certainly
had. Owing to a variety of reasons, at sea she was as steady as the
proverbial rock. There were reports current that this steadiness was
the result of carrying all the principal weights,--guns, armour, spars,
etc.,--abnormally high. However, the Constructor's Department, by means
of all sorts of figures (and of course figures cannot lie), clearly
proved that she was, if possible, unnecessarily safe; but, anyhow, as
we midshipmen knew nothing about angles of safety, and cared still
less, we greatly appreciated the fact of her steadiness. Her other good
point was that she was high between decks, which made the gunroom mess
a little more habitable, and gave us more air when tucked up in our
hammocks at night, as compared with the old-fashioned frigate barely 6
feet high at the beams.
We were directed to proceed to China through the Mediterranean, passing
through the Suez Canal, although it was considered doubtful whether a
ship of the size of the _Audacious_ could get through the Canal as it
then was. And, indeed, it was a job of some dimensions! On arrival at
Port Said the ship was lightened of all the coal and stores that we
could spare and we proceeded on our course through the Canal, provided
with one tug ahead and two tugs astern, to keep her straight. Anything
less straight than our course it is difficult to imagine. In spite of
the tugs we bumped about merrily from one bank to the other, our bluff
bows making such a wave that the whole countryside was flooded. Surely,
since the _Argo_ first took the sea, there never was such a brute to
steer as H.M.S. _Audacious_! After two days' bumping about in the Canal
we reached Suez, and from Aden, our next port of call, we proceeded to
Galle in Ceylon.
To cross the Indian Ocean from Aden to Point de Galle, a distance of
only 3000 miles, took us about thirty days. The most economical speed
of our species of Noah's Ark turned out to be well under five knots
an hour, and though we had filled up one of the large flats below the
battery with coal, and carried a deck cargo into the bargain, it was
all we could do to crawl into Galle before we came to the end of our
tether. Do not let it be imagined that all the ships built about that
period were the same hopeless failures. Far from it. Many of our early
battleships and cruisers were fine specimens of naval architecture and
steamed quite well. Some of the cruisers could sail as well as steam
extremely well. The "Audacious" class, as before explained, was simply
the outcome of the "short, handy ship" theory carried out to the verge
of lunacy.
From Galle we wended our way in the same leisurely fashion to
Singapore, and arrived there about Christmas time. Singapore was
practically the southern limit of the China Station, and there our
Admiral and Commander-in-Chief saw the first of his command. The China
Station was then practically divided into three portions: the southern
based upon Singapore; North China, based upon Shanghai; whilst the
ships stationed in Japan lay for the most part at Yokohama. Hong Kong
was the main headquarters of the Station, and the Commodore flew his
broad pennant from the masthead of an old line-of-battleship, the
_Victor Emanuel_, which, doing duty as guardship and receiving-ship,
was in the same category as the previously described _Duke of
Wellington_ at Portsmouth. The Commodore was also superintendent of the
Dockyard. Each of the three districts,--if one may apply such a term
as district to the sea,--was looked after by the senior officer in the
shape of a captain commanding a corvette, having under him a string
of gun-vessels and gunboats. It was a great station for small craft.
These were necessary because they could go a considerable distance up
the great rivers of China, for some of them would spend the best part
of three years up the same river, only varied by an occasional visit
to Hong Kong for a refit. The flagship herself had a sort of roving
commission, and when things were quiet her presence on different parts
of the Station became a question of climate, which usually meant Japan
for the summer and South China for the winter. As may readily be
imagined, to serve in a flagship on the China Station was one of the
pleasantest jobs that came a sailor's way, and I, for one, passed two
very happy years there.
It was at Singapore that I met, for the first time, a man of whom I
was destined to see a great deal many years afterwards,--Sir Frank
Swettenham,--then at the commencement of his long and successful
career in the Straits Settlements and Malay States, a career which
only came to an end with the termination of his Governorship in 1904.
I forget exactly what his post was during the winter of 1874-75, but
I have the happiest recollection of dining at a bungalow which he
shared with a distant cousin of mine, one of the Herveys, who was then
a Civil Servant at Singapore. Fancy how great a delight it was to a
midshipman to get out of the gunroom,--which in hot weather was rather
like a heated sardine tin,--and instead of eating the usual horrible
food which was our daily fare, to _dine_ in the best sense of that
important word. I may, parenthetically, remark that I have always taken
the greatest interest in food; that is to say, whenever I have had
the opportunity, for when attached to an Army in the Field, or, worse
still, living in a naval mess, it is useless to bother about anything
from a culinary point of view, beyond the elemental fact of eating to
keep oneself alive. There are many things that are good to eat in this
world, and, in their turn, I have appreciated the _cuisine bourgeoise_
of Provence and Gascony, the numerous _pasta_ dishes of Italy, to say
nothing of the supreme efforts of quite a large quantity of the great
chefs of Paris, but I still think the one thing very difficult to beat
in the way of a delicacy is the genuine Malay vegetable curry eaten
in its own home, with which every dinner, and indeed every meal, in
that part of the world, is invariably topped-up. Moreover, the setting
was so pleasant:--The verandah of a bungalow, with a tropical moon so
luminous that candles were hardly needed, with the murmur of the jungle
in one's ears, and, in place of the eternal "shop" which becomes one's
portion in the gunroom, to enjoy the conversation of two extremely
agreeable men, one of whom was certainly a remarkably able one into
the bargain. The cynical mind may suggest that as likely as not the
agreeable men in question were talking their own "shop" most of the
time. Perhaps it may have been so; at any rate it was a new "shop" to
me.
Our next move was to Hong Kong; for the _Audacious_, quite a long
sea-trip, with the accompanying difficulties which I have already
described. These were partially overcome by calling at Saigon, the
Headquarters of the French Navy in those waters. The Commander-in-Chief
was there able to kill two birds with one stone--to exchange courtesies
with the French Commander-in-Chief and take in a fresh supply of coal
for the remainder of his journey. It is quite unnecessary to describe
Saigon. Claude Farrère, who, though a sailor, is also a great writer,
has done it already in the most masterly fashion in _Les Civilisés_.
Even a few days of the climate of Saigon, which resembles nothing
in the world so much as the interior of an orchid house, are trying
enough. Small wonder that the unfortunate Government officials and
naval officers who are out there for years take to opium smoking and
various other weird amusements--in fact, anything--to while the time
away.
We finally arrived at our destination,--Hong Kong,--after about a five
months' journey from England, and there we spent some considerable time
refitting and preparing for our summer cruise. During our stay there
I had finished serving my time as a midshipman, having completed four
and a half years, and passed my examination, so far as seamanship was
concerned, for sub-lieutenant. I was fortunate enough to be given a
first-class, and on the strength of it could have claimed a passage
home to pass the other two examinations in gunnery and navigation which
were necessary to confirm me in my rank. Until these were passed one
could only hold the rank of Acting Sub-Lieutenant. Of course I ought
to have done so, for, had I taken the other two first-classes,--and,
barring accidents, there was not much difficulty in doing so,--I
should have been made a Lieutenant at once. Unfortunately there were
attractions of various kinds at Hong Kong, and I am afraid I succumbed
to them all. The result was I remained out there for over another
year having a very pleasant time, but steadily losing seniority.
Nevertheless, the year in the Far East was really well spent even at
the expense of spoiling what might possibly have been a successful
career in the Navy. To see something of China,--to my mind by far
the most interesting country in the world,--to see the beginning of
the Europeanising of Japan, is a pleasanter thing to look back upon
than the possibilities of high command in various parts of the world,
finishing off, at its very best, with the command of a Home Port.
Shortly after I had attained to the exalted rank of Acting
Sub-Lieutenant, a vacancy occurred owing to the sudden death of a
Commander of one of the gun-vessels, and, as was always the case in
those days, the acting vacancy was given to the Flag-Lieutenant. The
Admiral very kindly made me his Acting Flag-Lieutenant for the time
being, so that, at the age of a little over nineteen, I found myself
on the Staff of a Commander-in-Chief. The result of my temporary
promotion was that I was suddenly thrown into the vortex of Hong Kong
Society, about which it is necessary to say something. Naturally,
the head of the whole business was the Governor of Hong Kong, Sir
Arthur Kennedy. The honours of Government House were done by his
daughter, Miss Kennedy, in the most charming fashion, and many were
the pleasant dinners I enjoyed at that hospitable table. Miss Kennedy
subsequently married the late Admiral of the Fleet, Lord Clanwilliam,
but that was later, and after her father had left the Colony. The
next in rank to the Governor was the Naval Commander-in-Chief, and
the General in Command of Troops, Captains of ships and Colonels of
regiments, all came along in the usual official way. All this was
obvious enough and not in the least amusing, but what delighted me
was the table of precedence of those whom we youngsters always talked
of as "dollar grinders," who, with their wives, were in real life
the representatives of the great firms of China Merchants. I had to
make myself acquainted with these terrible rules of precedence so as
not to make an unnecessary number of mistakes on the occasions when
my Admiral was entertaining the rank and fashion of Hong Kong. They
were rather a terrifying lot, these same wives of dollar grinders,
and used to fight like cats if not put in their proper places. The
whole precedence was based on the importance, or supposed importance,
of the firm, and in my time Jardine & Mathieson were an easy first;
consequently the wife of that firm's representative was in the prime
position of being the leading civilian lady of the Colony. But even in
1875 the importance of the China Merchant was beginning to dwindle,
and small wonder! The youngsters who used to go out as tea-tasters
were started on a salary of £400 a year. Admirable board was provided
for them by the firm at what was called the Hong, where they not only
had the best of messing provided for them gratis, but, in addition,
could ask as many guests as they liked. Moreover, to make the thing
complete, the firm provided them with a chair and two coolies to carry
them about. (We have not yet heard of runners on the Stock Exchange
being accommodated by their employers with free taxi cabs!) Being for
the most part very little more than schoolboys, they naturally had a
very good time. There were rumours that they had a certain amount of
work to do in the morning; but even this was never confirmed. Anyhow,
after a remarkably copious "tiffin" and the necessary hour's rest, the
real business of the day began, such as the training of racing ponies,
cricket, rowing, and every sort of sport that was then popular. If
nothing better offered, the Hong provided an excellent dinner, and
then everybody adjourned to the Club for cards, billiards or bowls
until the small hours. Meanwhile, the German merchants,--to say nothing
of the indigenous Chinese,--were gradually ousting the Englishman. Even
at the unreflective age of nineteen it struck me that, as a business
proposition, the German clerk who worked all day, spoke at least four
languages and kept himself on £80 a year, would be apt to further the
interest of his firm and be more generally useful to it than our own
young men, who lived luxuriously, amused themselves a good deal, spoke
no language but their own, and probably cost the firm not far short of
£1000 a year apiece.
But to return to the Society aspect:--I remember well the first dinner
to which I accompanied my Admiral, given at East Point by the then
representative of Jardine & Mathieson. After the complete dinner party
had filed in arm in arm, strictly in accordance with the precedence of
the firms, I wandered in humbly, last and alone. However, I reflected,
while I was philosophically consoling myself with the pleasures of the
table, which included remarkably good wine, that had I been there in my
real rank as an Acting Sub-Lieutenant, I should probably have been sent
to dine in the steward's room instead.
The drawback to Hong Kong, as the Headquarters of the China Station,
was that it was a terribly expensive place, and as a system of
universal credit obtained, it was really difficult for young officers
to resist the temptation of running into debt. A certain number
certainly did come to grief, and the only wonder is that there were not
more of them. The British public is beginning to realise at last how
miserable a pittance is the pay of the Naval Officer of to-day. In my
young days it was a great deal worse, and in China we were literally
defrauded by the Admiralty into the bargain. It is a disgraceful fact
that the officers and men were paid monthly in silver dollars valued
by the Government at what used to be the par value of the dollar,
namely 4_s._ 2_d._; when their real value was well under 4_s._ Of
course this did not affect the higher ranks; on the contrary, it suited
them admirably. They could get their cheques cashed at the bank on
shore, and instead of taking their dollars could remit not only their
pay but, up to a decent point, a good deal besides at 4_s._ 2_d._
and make a very fine profit; but as far as the unfortunate junior
officers (who had no banking accounts) and the ship's company were
concerned, it was nothing else than highway robbery. But from time
immemorial, the officers and men serving afloat and doing the real work
of the Navy have been robbed by the civilian side of the Admiralty.
Readers of history will remember the great Dundonald's crusade, when
he was Captain Lord Cochrane, against the Malta Prize Court, and his
subsequent exposure of similar scandals in the House of Commons.
All the scandals then exposed must necessarily have been within the
knowledge of the Admiralty of those days, who either connived at it
or shared in the plunder. Two of the cases quoted by Dundonald in the
House of Commons are worth repeating:--
"The noble lord then read a letter from a captain of a vessel
at the Cape of Good Hope, complaining 'that the officers of
ships of war were so pillaged by those of the Vice-Admiralty
Courts, that he wished to know how they could be relieved;
whether they could be allowed the liberty to send their prizes
home, and how far the jurisdiction of the Vice-Admiralty Court
extended; for that the charges of Court were so exorbitant,
it required the whole amount of the value of a good prize to
satisfy them. In the case of one vessel that was sold for
11,000 rupees, the charges amounted to more than 10,000. This
was the case at Penang, Malacca, and other places, as well as
at the Cape.'
* * * * *
"The noble lord said he had produced the copy of the bill to
show the length of it. He then showed the original; and to
show the equity and moderation of the Vice-Admiralty Court, he
read one article where, on the taxation of a bill, the Court,
for deducting fifty crowns, charged thirty-five crowns for the
trouble in doing it. A vessel was valued at 8,608 crowns, the
Marshal received one per cent, for delivering her, and in the
end the net proceeds amounted to no more than 1,900 crowns out
of 8,608--all the rest had been embezzled and swallowed up
in the Prize Court. He was sorry, he said, to trepass on the
time of the House, on a day when another matter of importance
was to come before them. He pledged himself, however, that
no subject could be introduced more highly deserving their
serious attention and consideration."
The public have not yet heard all that is going to be done in the case
of the prize money earned by the Navy during the late war. For the sake
of my old comrades and their successors I hope that those who have gone
through and survived the wear and tear and exhaustion of those terrible
four and a half years will not be fleeced of their just due as were
their great-grandfathers.
But to return to Hong Kong. It was obviously difficult for very
insufficiently paid young men to resist living like others of their
own age, regardless of the fact that those others were much better
off. I remember the instance of two brothers, one a sub-lieutenant in
a gunboat and the other a subaltern in the Royal Engineers. There was
only a year's difference in age between them. The sub-lieutenant in the
Navy received £90 a year, subject to the illegal tax already mentioned;
the subaltern R.E., what with colonial pay and allowances and an extra
£1 a day from the Colony as Surveyor of Roads, made up just £900 a
year. Further comment is unnecessary. The system of credit already
alluded to needs mention, for at that time both in the Crown Colonies
and also in the Treaty Ports of China no money other than copper was
in general circulation, and this was not on account of any lack of
silver but owing to a Chinese peculiarity. The Chinaman is, I believe,
considered by all those doing business with him to be the most honest
and trustworthy trader in the world; dealing on a large scale with a
Chinaman it was always said that no signature would be necessary, the
Chinaman's word being as good as his bond. On the other hand, the lower
class Chinaman could never resist helping himself to a tiny slice off
any silver dollar that came into his hands. The result was that after
a short time the dollars in circulation lost so seriously in value
that they could not be accepted at their face value, and earned for
themselves the sobriquet of "chop dollars." Hence dollars, except at
the end of the month, were never seen, and the only cash ever carried
were the few coppers necessary to pay for the chair which did the work
of the then hansom in London. The "chit" system was universal; whether
it was dinner at the club, a cocktail at the bar, or a hair-cut at the
very smart hairdresser's shop on the Bund. All that was necessary was
to sign for the amount. It was hardly to be wondered at if we boys were
on the verge of bankruptcy every month.
Sometimes, alas! it was worse than bankruptcy. I am rather ashamed,
even now, when I remember that I helped a brother officer, who turned
out to be a real rogue, to escape. He was a paymaster on one of the
small craft on the Station. He had been put under close arrest by
Admiralty order as an irregularity had been discovered in his accounts
when submitted home. Three or four of us young idiots firmly believed
in his version, namely that not a halfpenny was really missing or had
ever got into his pocket. He admitted having been careless and said it
would be impossible for him to prove his innocence at the Court-martial
(this part of the story was remarkably true!), and consequently he
would be sure to be sentenced to imprisonment. He was very popular
with his brother officers, and also (alas, for his sake!) with a great
many of the light-hearted division ashore. The upshot of it was that
we, at the risk of our own necks (for had anything leaked out we must
have been tried by Court-martial and dismissed the Service at the
least) assisted him to escape. We procured a boat in the dead of night,
manning it ourselves, squared the sentry over the cabin door to look
the other way when the prisoner went on deck; he then succeeded in
creeping over the bows while the officer of the watch was aft, and
got into the boat from which he was pulled on board a steamer bound
for San Francisco. And that was the last we heard of him. The only
two incidents connected with this story that give me any pleasure on
looking back, are that I, who was rather behind the scenes, knew that
the trouble originated as the Frenchmen say all trouble originates. It
was a case of _cherchez la femme_, and that knowledge pleases my sense
of philosophy; while my sense of humour is tickled by the fact that the
sentry's bribe for looking the other way was a bottle of rum!
In the summer of 1875 there was a rising of the natives in Perak,
which, assuming serious proportions, eventually culminated into one
of our many little wars. On board the Flagship we were all in a great
state of excitement, feeling convinced that the Commander-in-Chief
would at once proceed to the scene of action with every available ship
and land a Naval Brigade, and that, consequently, war service and
medals, and, what was more important still, promotion would be coming
our way. As Acting Flag-Lieutenant I would not have changed places
with any one in the world, and had rosy visions of being the youngest
Commander in the Service. Alas! those rosy visions were never even to
get to the fading stage. The Commander-in-Chief, instead of proceeding
to the south, breathing fire and flame, as we all hoped he would,
calmly went in the other direction, namely to Shanghai and Japan,
and left the Senior Officer, Captain Alexander Buller, commanding the
corvette _Modeste_, to deal with the situation and reap the rewards.
We junior officers never forgave the "old man," as we called him; but
I dare say he was perfectly right,--for all any of us knew there might
have been excellent reasons for keeping the central and northern part
of our forces intact. Indeed, I strongly suspect that our Legation at
Pekin had a considerable say in the matter from what I saw in North
China later.
Whilst on the Admiral's Staff I came in for a most interesting visit
to Canton. The flag was shifted to the _Vigilant_, a small paddle-boat
yacht that was part of the establishment of the Commander-in-Chief
in China, and a very necessary part, as it enabled him to go up and
inspect his gunboats, many of which were perpetually stationed up
the various rivers, in the never-ceasing work of the Navy, namely
the protection of British interests. I was naturally in attendance
on my Chief when he paid his official calls on the mandarins whom it
was necessary for him to visit, and interesting it was to be carried
in palanquins through the narrow streets of Canton, and finally to
penetrate into the courtyards of the various _yamens_ where these
mandarins lived and had their being. Unfortunately I was too young and
ignorant then to appreciate things fully, and never took in the beauty
of the artistic treasures I had this chance of seeing; in fact, the
only outstanding impression that was left on my mind by Canton was one
of amazement that anybody could keep alive in the city for long, in
such an atmosphere of heat and stink!
The _Vigilant_ remained one night up the river, and of course our
cicerones, the English residents, insisted on taking us to visit the
flower boats, which were curious enough in their way. To the Western
mind, the painting of the women's faces seemed rather overdone,
and gilded lips, one thought at the time, were perhaps a shade too
artificial. Nowadays, I suppose it would scarcely be noticed, since
our own women have taken to raddling themselves with paint to quite an
Oriental extent, and really the difference between the eternal blob
of carmine that one sees on the lips of every woman in London and the
gilded mouth of the Eastern women is almost negligible.
Shortly after the commencement of the Perak Campaign, the _Audacious_
left for Shanghai _en route_ for a summer in Japan. During my service
on the China Station, which lasted about two years, the _Audacious_
was several times at Shanghai, and a very pleasant place it was.
The magnificence of the dollar grinder of that port overshadowed
that of his counterpart in Hong Kong in every way, the Club was far
better and the racing on a bigger scale. Huge sums would be given
for racing ponies, meaning that big money could be won in stakes and
selling lotteries, were the animal only good enough. I remember one
pony that fetched as much as 2000 taels, the equivalent of about £700
English,--a long price for a pony of barely fourteen hands. The other
sport indulged in by the people who were fortunate enough to have both
the time and the money was the shooting up the Yangtse River, which
used to be done in houseboats. These boats were most comfortable, with
every sort of convenience, drew so little water that they could go
almost anywhere, and the sport was excellent. Quite respectable bags
used to be made of pheasants and wild duck, and, in addition, the
snipe-shooting was extraordinarily good.
After Shanghai, we proceeded direct to Japan. Japan has been so
minutely described and written up by so many distinguished men of
letters, that any observations of mine would merely result in a poor
attempt to paint the lily; but it is interesting to have seen, in
1875, some of the early period of the Europeanising of that country.
In the real country districts, where a good walker with a jinriksha in
attendance could travel considerable distances into the interior, it
was still "Old Japan," and what could be more attractive? In the towns
everything was in the transition stage. For instance, the metropolitan
policeman of Yeddo and Yokohama was being evolved, his uniform
generally consisting in a copy of our police helmet and absolutely
nothing else but his truncheon. But anyhow, whether old, or new Japan,
it was a pleasant country in which to pass the summer.
Before returning south to Hong Kong, Vladivostock and Tientsin were
visited, and at Tientsin I spent some of my pleasantest days on the
China Station. Commander the Honourable Edward Dawson,[1] then
commanding H.M.S. _Dwarf_, was kind enough to allow me to accept the
hospitality of the wardroom officers of his ship, then stationed up the
river, and on board her I spent ten very agreeable days. It was then
a great place for paper chasing on pony back, and many were the good
gallops we had over the fine open country surrounding Tientsin. The
snipe-shooting, too, was capital fun. We used to start early in the
morning on our ponies, ride for some six or eight miles, and come back
a few hours later with generally some fifty couple of snipe; without
dogs and with no beaters, and four very inferior guns, this meant as
much shooting as one could reasonably expect. To show what could be
done, one of the residents there, who was really a fine shot, used
constantly to get a good deal more than our united bag to his own gun,
assisted only by two Chinese coolies, whom he had trained to watch
exactly where the birds fell, so as to retrieve for him. Dogs, even had
we possessed them, were of very little use, for they were constantly
drinking the very foul water that irrigated the paddy-fields (the
favourite habitation of the snipe), and generally died of some sort of
internal disease.
Another interesting place visited was Manilla, where the _Audacious_
called in the course of the following winter. The cigar merchants
there, received us with the greatest hospitality, and one of the items
of the round of amusements they provided for us was a cricket match.
Apparently, the unwritten law of cricket in Manilla was that enormous
tumblers of iced beer should be set down and kept constantly refilled,
a foot or so behind the stumps. Of course, the bowlers, wicket-keeper
and batsmen, being in the immediate vicinity, had all the best of it;
but when the "over" was called, the out-fields, if not too lazy to
cross over, had their opportunity to pay attention to the glasses if
they felt inclined. As the heat was terrific and these tumblers were
in constant use, the unfortunate native whose business it was to keep
them filled must have been fairly exhausted by his constant journeys
from the pavilion to the wicket and back, before the day was over.
Dinner succeeded cricket, and after dinner an adjournment was made
to the Opera. The Opera House, which was established at one end of
the local bull-ring, was only covered in with canvas, and the scenery
was therefore of a more than usually flimsy character. The travelling
company gave the _Trovatore_, and I can still remember how the prison
bars trembled, nearly bringing the canvas roof down, when the tenor, as
Manrico, was singing his passionate farewell--"Addio, Leonora; Leonora,
addio."
Time was slipping away, and I had long since been relieved of my Staff
duties, when a second opportunity came (the first I ought to have taken
a year before), of going home to pass the necessary examinations. There
happened to be at that time on the Station one of the most remarkable
hybrids, in the shape of a ship, that the genius of the Admiralty had
ever produced. She was named the _Thalia_, was a sort of spurious
corvette, and she and her consort, the _Juno_,--the only two of the
class that were ever built,--were known in the Service as "Fighting
Troopers." Her peculiarity was that she was half corvette and half
frigate in construction,--a corvette in that she carried her guns on
the upper deck, and a frigate in that she possessed a main deck, which
main deck, instead of being used for the armament, could be utilised
for berthing troops. In case of a sudden emergency I suppose she might
possibly have embarked one wing of an ordinary Infantry battalion, with
the necessary officers.
Towards the end of the summer of 1876 the _Thalia_ was ordered home,
and filled up with supernumeraries for passage to England. We were
a motley collection! We had on board the officers and crews of two
or three gunboats whose time had expired; a certain number of acting
sub-lieutenants who, like myself, were on their way home to pass their
examinations; a number of officers who had been tried for various
offences and had been dismissed their ships, or the Service (amongst
others, I remember there was a young officer, belonging to the
garrison, who had been broken for cheating at cards); and, to top up
with, there were a number of Court-martial prisoners, some of whom had
to go home to serve long terms of penal servitude. The Captain, who
was a very fine seaman of the old school, consoled himself with the
reflection that, though he had a very scratch lot of officers and men
to serve under him, if anything happened we should have been such an
undeniable haul for the devil that, in all probability, we should reach
England safely and without any contretemps. And so, accordingly, we
started to make a sailing passage home, coal only to be used in case
of absolute necessity. We were short of everything when we started. All
the Chinese servants and cooks had to be discharged before the ship
left the Station. We, in the gunroom, had no servants except the sort
we could improvise out of the very mixed material that was on board,
and no money to buy stores. There was nothing for it but to live on
ship's provisions, and so great was the crowd on board that water was
also very short, and we were on an allowance of one small basin full
for all purposes--cooking, drinking and washing--not a very liberal
allowance in the tropics. However, nothing matters when one is homeward
bound, not even a passage in a sort of convict-ship, for more or less
a convict ship she was, as the penal servitude prisoners counted their
time on board as part of their sentence; it was also carried out, so
far as hard labour was concerned, by exercising them at shot drill on
the quarter-deck.
We were a cheery lot in the gunroom, and we arranged to trade with
the saloon messman, who having a small allowance from the Admiralty
for messing the supernumeraries, managed somehow to produce a few
necessaries, wet and dry. As I had charge of a watch I rather enjoyed
my time until we got to the Red Sea, where we were compelled to steam
from Aden to Suez without a break. Beyond coming in for a short but
very violent gale on our way from Port Said, nothing else of interest
happened, and we duly arrived at Plymouth, having taken nearly four
months to get home;--not a very speedy journey, but anyhow it was
better than the _Audacious'_ performance on the way out.
After a little leave, the next thing to do was to get through the
necessary examinations. Gunnery came first, so a whole batch of acting
sub-lieutenants took up their abode at the old Naval College at
Portsmouth, to drill on board the _Excellent_, the gunnery ship that
used to lie up the Creek where the naval barracks now stand. I was very
keen to take a first-class if I could, which meant very hard work in
and out of hours, as, besides having practically to perform all the
drill of every arm carried by a man-of-war, it was also necessary to
learn what might be called the "patter" of the business--pages and
pages of the gunnery and small-arms drill-books--the idea being that
one should be able to pass on the extensive knowledge thus acquired
to others. It was then that I, from a very respectful distance, first
came into contact with Admiral Sir Reginald Custance, who was the
senior lieutenant on the instruction staff of the _Excellent_ at that
time, and consequently head examining officer. We sub-lieutenants
were in a holy terror of him, knowing that we had eventually to pass
through his hands at the final examination, and, being aware that this
subsequently-very-distinguished officer, had the reputation of not
suffering fools gladly. One way and another our noses were kept very
closely to the grindstone, and there was not much to do in the way of
amusement except after dinner, when we became great patrons of the
drama in the front row of the pit of the old Portsmouth Theatre. It was
then that I made my first acquaintance with Offenbach. An excellent
travelling company was there for some weeks, giving, in turn, _La
Grande Duchesse_, _La Perichole_, and many more of those delightful
comic operas so deservedly popular at the time. After all, I greatly
doubt whether anything as good in their way has ever been produced
since. Moreover, the Prima Donna of the company was that delightful
woman and artist, known on the stage as Madame Selina Dolaro. So no
wonder that we boys were in the theatre every night of our lives.
The three months' course at Portsmouth came to an end, and I was
lucky enough to get a first-class certificate. And now, all I had
to contemplate was the six months' course at Greenwich College,
which would complete my education. There was a good deal of luck,
as well as knowledge, required to get first-class in seamanship and
gunnery, but at Greenwich it was only necessary to work hard enough
to make a first-class a certainty for any one who had any aptitude
for mathematics, though for others who had not that aptitude, however
superior in other ways, it meant hard work to scrape through. I regret
to say that I made up my mind at once to do next to nothing. I knew
that I could get a second-class without any difficulty, which would
mean that I could spend most of my evenings and week-ends in London,
and in fact that I could amuse myself to the top of my bent. If I
went in for a first-class it involved hard study, which I disliked
particularly, though it would result in instantaneous promotion to the
rank of lieutenant. I had been acting sub-lieutenant so long that the
whole difference in seniority would amount to only about a year; a
year did not seem much to worry about, and so--_vive le plaisir!_ I
need hardly say that I was not the only one who held the same views.
The class I was in was composed of an extremely cheerful crew, who
earned, and I believe deserved, the reputation of being the wildest
and laziest class that ever went through Greenwich; but we did enjoy
ourselves! There was plenty of cricket in the summer, football in the
winter, excellent racquet courts for every season; and, moreover, there
was the Gaiety Theatre, at the time when that delightful quartette,
Nellie Farren, Kate Vaughan, Terry and Royce, were at their best and
brightest. I am afraid to think of the number of times I went to see
_Little Don Cæsar de Bazan_, but, at any rate, most of us could have
passed a much better examination in the libretto of that cleverest of
burlesques than we eventually did in our abhorred Euclid.
All went merrily until it came to the last fortnight before the final
examination, and then it became necessary to turn night into day
and try to pump in enough knowledge, through assiduous cramming, to
make sure of a pass,--such things as first-classes having vanished
altogether from our perspective. The examination lasted a week, and
when daily comparing notes we all felt happy up to the last day, but
the last paper we had to tackle (I forget the subject) fairly broke
us down. Whether it really was of a more than usually high standard
I know not, but anyhow we all agreed that, in our several spheres,
it had been our ruin, so in this desperate condition we thought
we might as well celebrate our failure by embarking on a terrific
bear-fight, after what we fondly imagined would be our last dinner at
Greenwich. Unfortunately the bear-fight assumed such proportions that
the Authorities got very cross about it. The whole lot of us were put
under arrest, and were solemnly tried by a Court of Inquiry, held at
Greenwich by the Admiralty for the purpose. I, for my sins, was the
senior officer, having had acting rank for so long, so I had to speak
for my brother malefactors. There really was not a great deal to say;
it would not have been easy to explain to the officers of the Court
that we were dissatisfied with an examination paper, so no excuse was
attempted. The upshot was that we were all sent to guardships for a
month under arrest, instead of being given the leave we had earned
after a long and trying course of instruction. Presently, the result
of the examination came out. Three were plucked and put back for three
months. Luckily for me, I had succeeded in taking a second-class, which
was all I could expect.
Very shortly after my month's arrest had expired, I was appointed
to H.M.S. _Agincourt_, the flagship of Rear-Admiral Sir Edmund
Commerell. Sir Edmund had been ordered to the East with his flagship
and the _Achilles_ to reinforce Admiral Sir Geoffrey Hornby (the
Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Station), and also to take up
the post of Second in Command. The _Agincourt_ having left England, I
took passage in a P. & O. steamer to Malta and remained there on board
the guardship _Hibernia_ waiting for an opportunity of joining my own
ship. But the importance of the situation in the Middle East in 1877-78
deserves a chapter to itself.
[Illustration: _Photo: A. Debenham, Cowes_]
SEYMOUR FORTESCUE
Cowes, 1893]