attention to the half-minute hand on the clock in the tower. Persons are
always asking the P.K. how he spends his time, and he wondered why. He
believed that anybody ought to see that there was plenty for a man to do
while he is on a four hours' watch in the tower. The turning of the
light, showing black outside and then flashing its warnings, after his
many years of experience of such things, is only taken for granted by
this P.K.
"And when I've finished lighting the lamp, trimming up things a bit,"
said the P.K., "I sit down like anybody else. Lots of people seem to
forget that the lighthouse-keeper is not the coast-guard or the head of
the crew of a life-saving station. They have their work to attend to,
but we watch for fogs night and day. When a man is stationed at a
lighthouse like the Longships, which is a little distance out on a rock,
he may be a couple of months without being relieved. But he has others
with him, and a good stock of food. If he wishes to communicate with the
land, he does so by signals; and that's the way men over there talk with
their wives who live in cottages on shore. The telephone has not been
found feasible, wires breaking all the time; so their wives have learned
to wig-wag to them.
"One night they got a scare on shore; thought that the men on the
Longships were sending up distress signals. It was bad weather, and
every now and again the coast-watcher saw a green light on the
Longships. And what do you think that green light was? Just the water
running over the bright light when it flashed! As it washed the glasses
it showed up green."
There were curtains of sailcloth put over the windows to obscure the
sunlight. I asked the P.K. about this, and he told me that the great
magnifying lens of the light would burn things if the sun got on it for
long enough. So, much as they like the sun in Cornwall, they have to
keep it out.
"I shall be on duty to-night from twelve until four o'clock," observed
the P.K. "But I've got accustomed to the running of the machinery."
So down we went. The last I saw of the P.K. was when the old Cornishman,
emptying cans of oil into the tank to supply the light which warns
mariners, shouted:--
"Getting pretty fresh now. Hope to see you again."
XII. WATCHERS OF THE COAST
Circling Great Britain are thousands of expert coast-watchers, whose
duty not only is to watch for ships, wrecks, and smugglers, as in the
days before the war, but also to be on guard for enemy submarines and
suspicious craft. It is the oft-spoken opinion of many an inland
inhabitant that certain sections of the coast would afford a base for
U-boats. However, these persons have no conception of the thoroughness
with which John Bull guards his coast-lines. Mile after mile, shores and
rocks are under the eye of alert navy men and volunteers, the latter
being civilians who have spent their lives by the sea. They know their
business, and even though they are volunteers, the discipline is rigid.
But they are not the type of men to shirk their duty, for they would
take it as missing a God-given opportunity if their eyes were closed at
the time they could help their country most. After travelling around
part of the coast-line, a stranger leaves with the opinion that there is
little chance for a man even to swim ashore under cover of night.
From John o' Groat's to Land's End and all around Ireland, these
coast-watchers--men over military age, wiry and strong, with eyes like
ferrets--scan the rocks and beaches hour after hour, noting passing
vessels, receiving and detailing information, and always keeping up
communication with the ring and its various centres. Their little stone
huts are on the highest point in their particular area, and their homes
usually are only a couple of hundred yards distant. Their chiefs are
coast-guards of the old days called back to their former service in the
Royal Navy. These men rule the volunteers with a rod of iron. No matter
what section of the coast one may pick, the coast-watcher is ready with
his glasses or telescope. Suspicious acts of any individuals receive
speedy attention, and each batch of the guards vies with the next for
keen performance of duty.
There is a halo of interest around these men, tame as their work may
appear to them at times. Take the watchers on the Scilly Isles, for
instance. They are as good as any around Great Britain. It is second
nature for them to watch the sea. It is a desire with them, something
they would not miss. Their fathers, grandfathers, and great-grandfathers
were watch-dogs on that area of the ocean. Go to St. Mary's, and you
will see a coast-watcher, up soon after dawn, take a stroll along the
beach, even when he is not supposed to be on duty and before he has
tasted his morning tea. The family telescope is at his eye, as he wants
to get a good look at what the sea has been doing, and what is there. To
the uninitiated, it seems to have the same paucity of interest as any
other shipless stretch of water; but to this expert it has a story. He
notes the clouds, the sun, the very rocks; and they say that his gaze is
so sharp that it would spot a champagne-cork floating some distance
away. But be that as it may, there is no enemy periscope that is going
to pass unobserved at a certain distance by this hawk-eyed, wind-seared
man.
He goes to his cottage for breakfast, and talks about the sea, then
leaves the table, and has another good look; and it is sadly
disappointing to any of these men to have missed a passing ship. Prior
to the declaration of hostilities, a wreck was the greatest piece of
news to the community; but now it is the glimpse of fast English
warships, and the anticipation of sighting a German U-boat, and thus
being the cause of the craft's doom.
"Gun-firing heard at ten minutes past twelve o'clock to-day," said one
man, reading from a slip he had just made out on the subject.
The man to whom he spoke happened to have been out of hearing distance,
and he could not believe it until a second man came along with the same
report. It was handed down the line, over to other shores, and the
watchers speculated as to what had taken place.
Arthur Oddy, who has charge of half a dozen watchers, told me that his
one great regret was that he had not seen a sign of the war, barring
uniforms. Nevertheless, for more than two and a half years he has
scanned the sea and shore of his district with dutiful care, and has
seen to it that his men have not been amiss in their share of the
tedious task. His station is very near the Last House in England, at
Land's End--a tea place kept by Mrs. E. James.
"What is that out there?" exclaimed a stranger, suddenly. "Looks like
part of a boat."
"That," declared Oddy, "is the Shark's Fin--a rock."
True enough, the rock of that name might have at times been a giant fish
or a wrecked submarine. It was lashed by the foamy waters, disappeared,
and then showed a bit, again was swallowed up, and seemed to reappear a
yard or so further along from where it first was seen. Finally, you
observed that it was a sharp, dangerous rock.
A mile or so farther along that coast I encountered John Thomas Wheeler,
the wearer of several medals, including a gold one received since the
war commenced from the King of Sweden. In peace time, just before the
war, Wheeler did his bit to save wrecked mariners. He is still doing it
in war time, with his eyes open for everything. As we stood there, with
the sea lashing the shingly beach and hammering the rocks, Wheeler,
chief officer of that station, recalled the story of the wreck of the
_Trifolium_, a Swedish sailing ship.
"It was terrible rough," said Wheeler, "when through the darkness we saw
the green light of the distress-signals. I shot off a rocket with a rope
to the forepart of the vessel. The men, who were clinging to the
rigging, paid no attention to it. Then I sent off another rope between
the main and the mizzen masts. First, they paid no heed to that; but,
finally, one man in oilskins jumped into the sea to catch hold of part
of the rope. He was followed by others. Perilous though it was on that
night, we walked out to help the men ashore. One after another, gasping
and unconscious sailors were landed. Then the ship broke in half, and
soon was torn to bits by the sea. I was looking for more men, as I had
seen one poor chap under the steel mast when it fell. A wave struck me,
and I found myself caught between two rocks. It looked all up for me, as
I could not move."
Wheeler's awful position was not at first realised, and his cries for
help could not be heard through the din of the ocean. Finally, he was
struck down by the turbulent sea, and one of his men, signalling to
another, went to their chief's rescue. Wheeler was unconscious when he
was brought up on the beach. For his share in the rescue work, besides
the King of Sweden's medal, Wheeler received medals from the Royal
Humane Society and the Board of Trade.
In that corner of England every one is on the _qui vive_ for the
unexpected. The women have their telescopes and glasses, and they do
their share, despite the fact that the regular men of that locality are
on duty. Mrs. James's tea-refreshment place is often the near-by house
to where men are scanning the horizon with their glasses, noting the
flags on vessels, if they have any in these days, and keeping up a
peace-time look out, for it is a dangerous point in bad weather. The
Last or First House in England, whichever one wishes to consider it, is
covered with names and initials of persons from all over the world.
Curiously enough, since the war there have been no wrecks in that
theatre, while in the six months prior to the great conflict there were
two or three.
Local heads of the coast-watchers or guards have the prerogative of
commandeering horses or automobiles when necessary. If there is a ship
ashore or on the rocks, signal-rockets are sent up to collect the
coast-guards; and it would seem that a couple of these would wake most
of the persons in that corner of England.
The real business of the coast-guards, and that to which they devote
themselves in peace or war, is firing rockets over a ship in distress
and trying to land the crew.
It was ten or twelve miles from that point that I met a chief watcher
who had been blown up in a British battleship, and had thus earned a
period of shore duty. He was "carrying on" for humanity and country, and
only a short time before he had been the means of rescuing the crew of
a small neutral sailing ship--a German victim.
We sped on farther north, and every three or four miles there was the
inevitable watcher, who can telephone, telegraph, and fire rockets when
occasion demands. It is all a modernised coast-guard system, the men
being first ready for ships in distress, but always on the alert for the
enemy.
XIII. CROSSING THE CHANNEL IN WAR TIME
This is the story of a British naval officer's trip to the Western
fighting ground as he told it to me the day he returned to London:--
"'Four days!' said I to myself. 'Not very long in which to get a real
taste of the World War on land.' However, the morning after I had
received 'leave' I departed from London in an automobile and as we sped
through the country there seemed, at first, to be little to remind us
that England was at war--except, perhaps, the many busy persons on all
farms and fields. Finally, we came across a mobile air-station on which
were two aeroplanes with folded wings. It was something which made you
think.
"In a South Coast port, however, there was military activity everywhere.
On the waters, far out from the harbour, which one imagines as denuded
of craft, I saw dozens of ships. There were large and small tramps,
mine-sweepers, and trawlers, and you were fascinated by the sight.
There was a dread lest one of them might disappear through a mine or a
torpedo any instant.
"Thousands of soldiers were at the dock, waiting to embark on ships for
France. A couple of thousand of them belonged to the Scotch Labour
Battalion, ready for work with pick and shovel. Their speech was almost
like a foreign language as they 'Jock'd' and 'Donal'd,' joked and sang,
when they swung aboard the vessel in single file.
"There was no waving of handkerchiefs and no shouting good-byes when the
black-and-tan craft was ready to leave. The skipper was on the bridge.
He looked down at an officer ashore, nodded his head, and the other
returned the nod. Hawsers were instantly slipped, and the steamer
skipped away from the British port on the minute, and soon met her
escort--destroyers, out of sight not long since, now ready for their
job. These slender speedsters of the sea never stop; so everything must
be done according to schedule. Four of the destroyers surrounded us as
we ploughed through the water.
"From the bridge came the order for every soul aboard to put on a
life-belt, and our friends from Scotland hastened aft to obtain the
equipment, scurrying and bustling about the damp cabin for the best
belts.
"Half-way across the straits we met the opposite number vessel to ours.
She had an escort of three warships, so that for a flash there were
seven destroyers on the breast of that water. But it was not for long. A
swish, and they were nearer England and we nearer France, they getting
some of our smoke and we some of theirs. Steamers go into the French
port stern first, and soon I found myself treading French soil. Our
Scotch labourers were hurried off the vessel, and they vanished with
extraordinary quickness; and this also reminds me that no sooner was our
steamship safe in the harbour than the warships nipped off to England,
and all you could see in a few minutes was a wreath of water and smoke
as they raced homewards.
"The skipper of the passenger craft has seen exciting times. While I
stood on the bridge with him and his first officer, he told me of a
night he won't easily forget. He was running the _Queen_, and going over
empty, having smuggled aboard a staff officer who had missed the other
vessel. It was darkening, and the _Queen_ was about four miles off the
British coast when this skipper saw dark hulls, blanched lines, and
flaming funnels--all showing terrific speed. First, he took the strange
craft to be new French destroyers; but they hailed him in English, and,
of course, for an instant he thought then they were British warships,
when suddenly it dawned on him. 'By God, they're Germans!' he ejaculated
to the staff officer. 'Nip into the cabin, and get those clothes off and
into an oilskin, fast as you like.'
"The army man got it done just in time, for an officer and two men from
one of the German destroyers sprang aboard the _Queen_ after the enemy
warship had bumped the passenger craft. The German demanded the
captain's papers, and was told that everything had been thrown
overboard.
"The Germans were pale, and the pistol in the officer's hand shook
dangerously. The skipper declared that the only papers relating to the
_Queen_ were in his cabin.
"'Get those papers, or I'll blow your head off,' said the German. Below,
the captain moved his hand to his hip pocket to get his keys, the German
started, and put the muzzle of his revolver close to the Britisher's
head. As the captain was unlocking a drawer, the German again became
suspicious, and warned the skipper. The Briton told the German to get
the papers himself, and, finally, the useless document relating to the
_Queen_ was taken from the drawer. It was snatched up and pocketed by
the German officer. Meanwhile, his men had fixed bombs in vital parts
aboard the passenger craft, and the order was given to abandon ship.
"Just before the bang came and the _Queen_ sank, the German decided that
he wanted to take the skipper with him. Fortunately, the captain had
been missed in their tremulous excitement. However, the Germans could
not wait, and they had to go away without the skipper. It was an
experience no man would forget; and the British of it is that this same
man, who had a pretty good chance of spending many months in a German
prison camp, is still guiding vessels flying our flag from France to
England and England to France.
"In Boulogne, I had to take a train for Paris. It was the longest train
I ever set eyes on. One end of it seemed to be in the dock station while
the other was on the outskirts of the town. You can get an idea of its
length when I say that it had to stop twice at all stations. There was
no attempt at speed until we got within twenty miles of Paris."
In a railroad station in Paris this officer encountered a friend who was
a commander in the Royal Naval Air Service, and the traveller thereupon
decided that nobody could give him a better idea of the war in the brief
time at his disposal than this man. Hence, after a dash to the hotel and
taking chances of getting his suitcase, the sea-fighter, with only a
tooth-brush and a piece of soap, finally joined the flying man, and off
they went to the war. My naval friend continued:--
"War stared at us after we had passed through Chantilly, and on the way
to Amiens we sped by forty or fifty ambulances. It was at the Cafe
Gobert, in Amiens, that we got out of the automobile and had luncheon.
That town was thronged with nonchalant women and blue-clad poilus.
Following our refreshment, we continued our journey. We ran into
soldiers and guns, aeroplanes, and more guns of all calibres; there must
have been two miles of them in one batch that we passed on the way to
Arras, as well as 'umpty' parks of lorries.
"The first steam engine that I got a chance of seeing since leaving
England was an antiquated London, Chatham, and Dover locomotive attached
to a long train of cars filled with provisions and so forth, helped out
by Belgian and French engines. The rail-head, not far from that
particular 'somewhere,' reminded me of Whiteley's shop in London. Then I
observed a dozen fire-engines painted khaki colour. There were officers'
baths, coal and wood on lorries, tents, and everything you can think
of--and a lot you can't. Ammunition dumps were on our right and left,
and the occasional gleam of a sentry's bayonet let you know that
somebody was on watch.
"As I was the guest of the Royal Naval Air Service, it was naturally
gratifying to come to the home of that service or section of it; the
spot which had been barren land two days before was now the scene of
great activity. Mess tents were comfortably fixed up, electric light
being obtained from lorries. There were workshops on lorries. The Royal
Flying Corps also had a station near by. These ingenious Air Service men
do all their repairing on the spot. If a lorry gets stuck in the mud
they just use enough lorries until they pull it out.
"Our Rolls-Royce darted into the air on one stretch of bad road. It
bumped out our dynamo, and we made the rest of the way along the dark
road behind a staff car.
"By that time there was no doubt but that we were at the war--passing
between two lines of our heavy artillery on the snow covered ground. The
splashes of fire--red on the glistening white--formed a memorable
picture.
"Every now and again, the snow was lighted up by the star-shells, which
hung in the air and then dropped like a rain of gold on the silver
ground. The thunder of the guns was pleasing, and as each shell sped on
its errand, the unforgettable scene became more beautiful, with the glow
from the star-shells and the sight of men, silhouetted in the temporary
light against the white-blanketed earth, going about their duty, as some
of them had done for more than two and a half years. On we dashed, until
we heard a challenging voice, and discerned a French poilu.
"'Aviation anglaise,' announced my friend. After satisfying himself, the
sentry permitted us to continue on our way. A little further on, to our
chagrin, we learned that a lorry had broken down on a bridge, and that
if our car could not pass it, it would mean a detour of nine miles.
However, our excellent chauffeur was equal to the occasion. After
bending the mud-guards, following the taking of measurements, he drove
the machine over in safety with not half an inch to spare.
"Guns boomed as they had been booming for thirty months. This gives you
food for thought at the front. Finally, we came to Dunkirk, and there
enjoyed uninterrupted repose after our long ride in the biting weather.
Next morning I was up early, and before I had breakfast I watched a
seaplane turning and twisting, riding first tail downward and then head
downward, dropping a thousand feet, and then righting itself, and
outdoing the looping-the-loop idea. I ventured commendation for this
pilot's exploits.
"'Pretty good youngster,' said the commander. 'Soon be able to give him
a journey he's been longing to have.'
"This _youngster_ certainly seemed to me a past master in the flying
art.
"My interest next was centred on several barges probing their way
through the canal. They were manned by soldiers in khaki, and these
soldier-sailors belonged to the I.W.T.--the Inland Water Transport.
"Later, I had the satisfaction of firing off one of the big guns at the
Huns, and then of going into an observation post from whence we watched
shells bursting on the German lines. The Germans were fairly silent,
while we were putting over quite a lot of stuff. My next shot at the
Boche was with 'Polly,' whose shell spat forth at her opposite number,
known on our side of the lines as 'Peanought.'
"It was decidedly interesting in the trenches, almost as near the German
lines as we are at any point. There was the occasional thunder of the
artillery, coupled with the report of a rifle, which told that the
sniper was on the job, and now and again the 'bang-zizz' of the German
trench mortar projectile--known better as 'Minnie.'
"At the seaplane station I met a young officer who two days before had
flown over from England in the early morning and was to dine that same
night with friends in London. His only worry was that he might possibly
miss the boat to take him back to keep the dinner engagement. Then there
was a young man--eighteen years old, to be specific--who had accounted
for thirteen of the enemy aeroplanes.
"My next experience was aboard a destroyer which took me to England. I
had not worn an overcoat during my trip, but I was glad of a duffel coat
on that speedy craft."
The commander glanced at his watch, and observed he had just half an
hour in which to get to King's Cross Station.
Transcriber's Note:
Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.