William Blackwood and Sons
Edinburgh and London
1916
_ALL RIGHTS RESERVED_
_TO
MY MOTHER_
*PREFACE.*
"I reckon that's proper 'New Navy,'" said the coxswain of a duty cutter
to the midshipman perched on the "dickey" seat beside him in the stern.
It was 6 A.M.: the boat was returning from the early morning beef trip,
and the midshipman in charge of her had seen fit to discuss with his
coxswain the subject which at most hours, and particularly at this one,
lay nearest to his heart--the subject of Food.
"Proper 'New Navy,'" repeated the petty officer with contempt. He
referred to the recent introduction of marmalade into his scale of
rations. He spoke bitterly, yet his quarrel was not with the marmalade,
which, in its way, was all that marmalade should have been. His regret
was for the "dear dead days" before marmalade was thought of on the
Lower-deck.
That was ten years ago, but fondness for the ancient order of things is
still a feature of this Navy of ours. There was never a ship like our
last ship: no commission like the one before this one. Gipsies all: yet
we would fain linger a little by the ashes of our camp-fire while the
caravans move on.
The most indifferent observer of naval affairs during the last decade
will admit that it has been one of immense transition. Changes, more
momentous even than this business of the marmalade, have followed in the
wake of a great wave of progress. "Up and onward" is the accepted order,
but at the bottom of the Sailor-man's conservative heart a certain
reluctance still remains. The talk of smoking-room and forecastle
concerns the doings of yesterday; the ties that link us in a "common
brotherhood" were for the most part forged in the "Old" Navy, so fast
yielding place to new.
In 'Naval Occasions' the Author has strung together a few sketches of
naval life afloat in the past ten years. They relate to ships mainly of
the "pre-Dreadnought" era, and officers (those of the Military branch at
least) who owe their early training to the old _Britannia_. At the same
time, for all the outward changes, the inner work-a-day life of the
Fleet remains unaltered. With this, and not in criticism of things old
or new, these Sketches are concerned. Pathos and humour continue to rub
elbows on either side of us much as they always have, and there still
remains more to laugh about than sigh over when the day's work is done.