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AT 4 o’clock that afternoon the _Lord Nelson_ anchored in Mudros
Harbour, and shortly afterwards we were mustered on deck and then
disembarked and taken to the store-ship _Fauvette_, where cabins were
allotted to each two of us midshipmen.
The following day two torpedo-boats came alongside, and the
Lieutenant-Commander of the whole squadron of T.B.s based at Malta came
aboard to lunch. It was the great ambition of each of us “snotties”
to get appointed to one of these sporting little craft; but we feared
there was but little chance of such a stroke of luck, as they do not,
as a rule, carry midshipmen. However, there was no harm in hoping!
Next forenoon one of our lieutenants told us that two of our number
were to go to an armoured liner which was lying in the harbour, and
suggested that we should draw lots to determine which of us it should
be. Browne was away somewhere at the moment, and, as there was no time
to be lost, we had to do the drawing without him. Baker and I seemed
to be rather lucky at lotteries, for, as once before, we drew the
winning numbers. I was not, however, particularly elated as I was still
secretly hankering after service on a T.B.
We packed up the few articles of clothing we had obtained from the
_Lord Nelson_, and, together with the Lieutenant, who was also going
to the auxiliary cruiser, we were just embarking in the cutter, when,
as we were about to shove off, Browne came alongside in another boat.
Hastily we drew lots again, but the result was the same, and we went
off to our appointed ship.
When we got on board we were asked our names, and then the Captain
informed me he had orders to take Browne instead of me; so I returned
to the _Fauvette_ and told him he was to take my place. No sooner had
I lost this billet than, with human cussedness, I began to regret it.
After all, “a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” and the job
would have been quite a good one.
However, my discontent was short-lived, for I soon found that, after
all, my luck was “in.” That afternoon I was leaning over the stanchions
looking at the shipping in the harbour, and wondering what fate might
have in store for me, when the Lieutenant-Commander of the T.B.s and
the Captain of the _Fauvette_ came along the deck and stopped close to
where I was standing, and I heard the former say that he intended—if
he could get the Admiral’s permission—to take one of the rescued
midshipmen to act as second in command of his torpedo-boat. I pricked
up my ears at that, and, a few minutes later, when Captain—— had gone
below, I summoned up all my courage (call it cheek, if you like), and,
regardless of the snub I was undoubtedly asking for, I went boldly up
to the Lieutenant-Commander and told him I had overheard what he had
said, and asked him if he would not take me if he could, as I was most
awfully keen to serve on a T.B.
He was frightfully kind, and did not seem a bit annoyed or surprised,
nor did he hand me the snubbing I had invited; but he explained that,
although at the moment the job I coveted was pleasant enough and not
too strenuous, it was likely to be a very stiff service later on, and
he asked if I really felt I should be equal to it.
Of course I declared that I felt perfectly fit and equal to anything,
and would do my level best if only I could get the billet; so then he
said he would ask for me.
As soon as he had left me I dashed below to tell the others of the
glorious luck which might be in store for me.
Next morning Lieutenant-Commander—— came aboard again, and to my
intense delight told me I was duly appointed to his T.B. and could
join that afternoon! Further, he invited me there and then to go off
with him and have a look round the boat. I found it a very different
proposition to the big ship to which I had been accustomed. To begin
with, there was only one tiny cabin, called by courtesy the ward-room,
in which we would live and eat and sleep, and my new skipper warned me
that when we were at sea it would often be three feet deep in water.
However, I felt it would require much more water than that to damp my
ardour for this new and exciting work.
Then he gave me a brief explanation of the duty on which the T.B.s
were then engaged. That night, he said, we would in all probability go
out on patrol duty just outside the boom until relieved at 6 the next
morning. Then we might proceed to sea and patrol the waters surrounding
the island of Lemnos. Doubtless we should anchor in some small bay for
the night, and early next morning return to harbour, when we should
have a day off, and so on and so forth. Twenty-four hours’ patrol and
then twenty-four hours’ rest. Forty-eight hours’ rest was the general
rule, but, as one of the T.B.s had run aground the week before, and had
had to be sent to Malta for repairs, we were short-handed.
Presently I returned to the _Fauvette_ to get what necessaries I could
obtain from the steward in charge of the stores. All he managed to
provide me with was a set of pants and vest, of the coarsest and most
horsehairy description, a pound of yellow soap, and a pair of enormous
and most dreadfully ugly boots. However, even these were better than
nothing, and, with the borrowed plumes in which I stood up, they had to
serve; and, moderately thankful for small mercies, I said “good-bye” to
my former messmates and went off to my new ship.
That night I slept on one of the settees which served the single cabin
for seats and lockers by day as well as for bunks by night, and early
the next morning we put to sea on patrol duty, carrying a crew of
sixteen in addition to the Commander and myself.
When we got outside the harbour the engines were stopped, and all hands
bathed. No particular incident occurred during our patrol, and the next
morning, after being relieved by another T.B., we proceeded for duty
off the island.
My enjoyment of the three weeks I spent in this service was due in no
little measure to the personal charm of my skipper, who was not only
the most considerate and tactful officer to serve under, but a most
charming and interesting companion. The work was mainly routine on the
lines indicated above, and although there was plenty of variety, and at
times no little excitement, to enlarge further on our doings would be
waste of pen and ink, as any more detailed account would probably be
“omitted by order of the censor”!
It had not occurred to me that those august, and occasionally
paternally minded, powers who preside over the sailor-man’s earthly
destiny, would think it necessary to send me home on leave. “Leave” had
long since been relegated in my mind to that dim and distant future
“after the war.” Doubtless the said powers in their wisdom realised—as
at that time I certainly did not—the inevitable strain following on my
narrow escape from the sinking ship.
It was, however, with some surprise and much regret that I heard from
the Commander on the 1st of June, that he had been ordered to send me
at once to the auxiliary cruiser _Carmania_, on which ship I was to
proceed to England.
Very reluctantly I took leave of the T.B. and her genial Commander,
and went on board the armed liner, where I found most of the survivors
from my old ship. Alas! they were tragically few, for out of a ship’s
company of 760, only 160 men and 20 officers had been saved.
The _Carmania_, which still bore scars resulting from her tremendous
battle with the Cap Trafalgar earlier in the war, weighed anchor on the
following day, and four days later reached Malta, where she coaled.
Here I went ashore and managed to buy a ready-made reefer suit and
other necessary garments; and I was uncommonly glad to feel once more
respectably clad.
Our voyage was uneventful. Now that there was no duty to be performed
I think most of us began to feel a bit slack, but our spirits rose as
they turned homewards. We had not seen our people for nearly thirteen
months, and the necessarily strict censorship of all our letters had of
course increased the sense of separation.
On June 12 we arrived at Devonport, and our Commander went ashore and
shortly afterwards returned with the welcome information that we had
all been granted a fortnight’s leave.
Leave! Cheer-o! We wasted no time in getting ashore, and I at once
wired to my home telling my mother that I had arrived, and was going
straight to London to the house of some cousins who had offered me
hospitality whenever I might need it, and that I would there await
instructions as I did not know where she might be. A fast train landed
us at Paddington about 5 o’clock, and I took a taxi to S—— Place.
* * * * *
_The Admiralty had informed me that he had sailed for England on the
2nd, and I knew he would go to London according to instruction, so I
was able to be there to meet him._
_I had not seen him since he left for Dartmouth, nearly fourteen months
before. Then he was a round-faced, rosy boy...._
_Up the steps, dragging a seaman’s canvas kit-bag, came a tall, thin
figure, white of face, drawn, haggard—incredibly old. I had not quite
realised_ this. _For a second my heart stood still—— Where was my
boy?_
_Then he saw me waiting in the hall, and his face lighted with
half-incredulous joyous wonder: “Mother!_ You here!”
* * * * *
_My_ boy _was gone for ever—but my_ son _had come home._
Te Deum Laudamus.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY
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SOLDIERS’ TALES
OF THE
GREAT WAR
_Each Volume Cr. 8vo, Cloth, 3s. 6d. net._
I. WITH MY REGIMENT. By “Platoon Commander.”
“To read it is to share every experience (almost) in the life of a
lieutenant on active service.”—_Punch._
II. DIXMUDE. A chapter in the history of the Naval Brigade, Oct.-Nov.,
1914. By Charles le Goffic.
_Illustrated_
“A great and fascinating story which stands by itself in the huge epic
cycle of the war.”—_Times._
III. IN THE FIELD (1914-15). The impressions of an Officer of Light
Cavalry.
“Dumas himself could not have bettered most of these pages.”—_Evening
Standard._
IV. PRISONER OF WAR. By André Warnod.
“A vivid picture of a prisoner’s life in a camp of mixed
nationalities.”—_Times Lit. Sup._
V. UNCENSORED LETTERS FROM THE DARDANELLES. Notes of a French Army
Doctor.
_Illustrated_
VI. “CONTEMPTIBLE.” By “Casualty.”
VII. ON THE ANZAC TRAIL. By “Anzac.”
VIII. IN GERMAN HANDS. By Charles Hennebois.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:
—Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected.