IN ACTION
TWO days after leaving Zanzibar we reached Mombasa, and since no
native labour was available, and the heat was too great to allow of
our working by day, we commenced coaling at 4 p.m., and coaled all
night, taking in about 1200 tons. Early next morning we were under
way again, and a fortnight later we dropped anchor at Aden. We went
ashore on leave while the ship was being coaled by native labour, and
in the evening proceeded again to sea. Next day we sighted the coast of
Somaliland, where a furious sand-storm was raging, and a huge wall of
red sand hung above the cliffs, extending some distance over the water.
Little more than a week later we arrived at Suez, having accomplished
the passage of the Red Sea without any incident worth recording. We
stayed the day at Suez, and in the evening got under way and traversed
the Canal by night, dropping anchor at Port Said on the following
morning. Again we went on leave while coaling was in progress, and next
morning resumed our journey. Two days later we received a wireless
message ordering us to put back to Port Said and there prepare to repel
an expected attack by Turkish infantry on the Canal; and, further,
we were instructed to make preparation to receive the Admiral of the
port, who intended to hoist his flag in our ship. We at once set to
work to protect our bridge and tops by means of sand-bags, hammocks,
and grass ropes; and all the Captain’s furniture was removed from
the after-cabin. Also the 12-pounders and searchlight positions were
screened with thin steel plates. However, before we sighted land all
these orders were cancelled, as, apparently, the Turkish attack was no
longer anticipated.
We now spent three days in Port Said, and while there I distinguished
(?) myself by running our steam-pinnace aground!! It happened in this
way: I had offered to relieve Barton in charge of the said pinnace,
and owing to imperfect knowledge of the harbour, a very tricky one, I
steered the boat firmly on to a sand-bank which lay within a biscuit’s
throw of the ship. Three native boys endeavoured to assist me by
jumping into the water and shoving at the boat, but they only made
matters worse. Eventually, after going full speed astern for a good
five minutes, I got her off, and went alongside the ship. I was greeted
by the Commander with a proper slanging, and ordered to pay the native
boys, who were clamouring for _backsheesh_ in reward of their fancied
assistance. In my agitation I grossly overpaid the interfering brutes,
and the Commander then told me to do penance for my carelessness
by keeping the dog-watch. As a matter of fact it was my dog-watch
_anyway_; but I did not feel called upon to tell him so!
* * * * *
On the morning of the fourth day we again got under way for the
Dardanelles, and arrived there on the 25th of April.
We steamed round the island of Tenedos, and took up our station at the
end of a line of some ten or more ships already anchored there. During
the voyage over I had been appointed in charge of the picket boat, and
as soon as we had anchored my boat was lowered to take some officers
to a cruiser which was going to take them over to the Dardanelles to
have a look at the positions we were going to attack on the following
morning. There was a considerable sea running, and as soon as the
slings were slackened, and the boat began to ride to the waves, the
starboard funnel, which was hinged to allow of its being laid flat
when she was in the crutches, and had not yet been raised and secured,
was so shaken by the violent motion of the boat that it snapped off
close to the deck and rolled overboard. This made steering with a head
wind very difficult, as the smoke all went into the steersman’s eyes
instead of being carried over his head; but I was not the sufferer on
this occasion, as I did not take this particular trip, being busy on
some important work in another part of the ship, and a substitute was
sent in my place.
By this time a change had been made in our routine, and none of us
were now officers’ messengers, with the exception of Cunninghame and
Baker, who were A.D.C.s to the Captain and the navigator respectively.
The remaining seven were watch-keepers, and in this way there were two
“snotties” to every watch but one.
Soon after my boat had gone away, having on board the Captain,
Commander, captain of marines, and officers of turrets, a collier came
alongside and we commenced coaling. My boat being duty steamboat (known
in the vernacular as D.S.B.), I did not have to assist in coaling, and
as soon as she returned from the cruiser “——,” I was sent away in
her with dispatches for the Flagship. One of my bowmen did not turn
up when the boat’s crew was piped, and when he eventually appeared
the silly fool went and fell into the ditch! He was soon pulled out,
however, and we started down the line. On the horizon I could see the
mouth of the Dardanelles and one or two ships firing at intervals. As
we passed down the Fleet I noticed one ship with half her funnel-casing
blown off and another with a bit of her stern-walk missing, which
showed we didn’t always get it all our own way with the Turk.
After I had delivered my dispatches I returned to the ship and
was promptly sent away again to take the gunner to the store-ship
_Fauvette_ to get some gunnery instruments. By this time the sea was
very big for a small steamboat, and was almost dead on the beam. We
were rolling nearly 60° each side, and constantly shipping seas, which
poured down the stump of the broken funnel and nearly put the furnace
out. The store-ship was a good two miles away, and it took us nearly
half-an-hour to reach her. At last we got within about twenty yards
of her, and I ran my boat down the leeside, looking for a ladder or
gangway; seeing none, I ran under her stern and went alongside to
windward of her. Here the seas were enormous, and as we rose on a
huge wave the gunner leaped for the ladder, missed his footing, hung
on for a second, and then dropped into the sea between the boat and
the ship’s side. We managed to haul him out at once, but it was a bit
of luck that the boat was not carried in towards the ship’s side by
a wave, as it would most certainly have crushed, and probably killed
him. Once he was safe on board again I hailed the ship and asked them
to put out a ladder on the leeside, as I could see it was much too
dangerous work going alongside to windward, and I didn’t care to risk
it again. Eventually the gunner’s mission was safely accomplished, and
we returned to our own ship without further incident.
After lunch I had to get my boat coaled and watered, and at about 5
p.m. the cruiser with our officers on board came back to her moorings,
and I was sent to bring them off to our ship again. Then at 6.30. I
had to take the Torpedo Lieutenant and the gunner (T.) over to _H.M.S.
“——,”_ and to wait an hour for them, lying off in the dark with a
big sea running. Thank goodness I am a good sailor—don’t know what it
is to be sea-sick; but anyone less fortunate in their interior economy
would have had an uncommonly miserable time! As it was I was only
rather cold, very hungry, and very bored. At last they reembarked and I
returned on board and got my dinner, which I was much in need of.
That night we put to sea, and at 2 on the following morning “Action”
sounded—the great landing at Gallipoli had begun. All water-tight
doors were hastily closed and all electric light cut off.
We had to go up on deck to get to the Fore T.S., and away to the right
could be seen the first faint streaks of dawn, and the land showing
very faintly against the sky.
Down in the Fore T.S. we worked by candlelight, eagerly awaiting the
sunrise when the great bombardment would begin.
* * * * *
_Of that bombardment he spoke but little, and wrote not at all. I think
he felt it too big a thing to tackle._
_The epic of the Gallipoli landings will, let us hope, one day be
written by a pen worthy to depict that immortal tale of heroism, but I
doubt if the whole truth can ever be spoken or written. There are some
things of which men cannot and will not speak. A word, a sentence here
and there, may lift for a moment a corner of the veil, but only those
who went through that inferno will ever fully realise its horror._
_Of my boy’s own small part in it all I know a little—but only a_
very _little. The ship was concerned in the landing at—— Beach,
and at 10 o’clock one morning he was sent away in his boat to fetch
the wounded from the beach in question. Of course other midshipmen were
doing the same thing in other boats._
_Batch after batch of men horribly wounded, hideously mutilated,
were rescued under fire, and conveyed to the hospital ships. He
spoke—brokenly—of the terrible wounds, the all-pervading stench of
blood rising up beneath the fierce rays of the sun from his reeking
boat; of the magnificent, indescribable heroism and patience of men
mangled, and shattered, and torn._
_Once for a time the ship had to go away down the straits for two
miles, and he had to read the signals giving orders where to convey the
rescued—and so—work on. One day he was on that duty from 10 in the
morning until half-past 1 at night._
_”What did you do for food?” I asked—perhaps foolishly._
“_Oh, they threw me down a lump of cheese and a ship’s biscuit,
somewhere about midday, when I happened to be alongside._”
“_And was that_ all _you had in all those hours? Surely they
might have seen you had at least something to eat!_”
“_Eat—” he exclaimed scornfully, and then very patiently: “Don’t you
see, Mother, it was a question of_men’s lives! _Some were bleeding to
death; every second counted—— How could we think of_ eating!”
_So—shamed—I held my peace, hearing only that “it was a question of
men’s_lives.”
_And these were the boys of whom a certain well-meaning but hysterical
Member of Parliament wrote to the papers just after the sinking of the_
Aboukir, _the_ Cressy, _and the_ Hogue._ He said it was monstrous to
send such mere children to war, and that in point of fact they were
of no use on the ships, and only a source of worry to their superior
officers! One could wish that he had been present at Gallipoli. Some
of those same boys won decorations which they may well wear proudly
to-day, for they won them by deeds of magnificent fortitude and
valour. Others again gave all they had—their health and their youth,
and in some cases their lives, and I think the names of all those
“children” are written in letters of flame on the Roll of England’s
Honour—England’s Glory._
* * * * *
_Some days later they were once more in comparative security. How
comparative only those who have realised a fraction of that hell will
recognise._
_The ship was guarding the French flank when the end came—but—let it
be told in his own words._