During the early part of 1917, whilst I was serving with one of H.M.
transports, we had occasion to call at Panama for coaling purposes
before proceeding to England via New York.
One of our many Cockney sailors was a fine swimmer and diver. He took
every opportunity to have what he termed "a couple of dives."
Owing to the water being rather shallow immediately along the quay, his
diving exhibitions were limited to nothing higher than the forecastle,
which was some 30 ft. His one desire, however, was to dive from the
boat-deck, which was about 60 ft. Whilst steaming later in the front
line of our convoy, which numbered about forty-two ships, we became the
direct target of a deadly torpedo. Every soul dashed for the lifeboats.
After things had somewhat subsided I found our Cockney
friend--disregarding the fact that our ship was badly damaged and was
now listing at an almost impossible angle--posing rather gracefully for
a dive. He shouted, "Hi! hi! Wot abaht this 'un? I told yer I could do
it easy!" He then dived gracefully and swam to a lifeboat.--_Bobbie
George Bull (late Mercantile Marine), 40 Warren Road, Leyton, E.10._
Wot Abaht Wot?
In 1917 our job on an armed merchantman, H.M.A.S. _Marmora_, was to
escort food ships through the danger zone. One trip we were going to
Sierra Leone, but in the middle of the afternoon, when about two days
out from Cardiff, we were torpedoed.
The old ship came to a standstill and we all proceeded to action
stations. Just as we were training our guns in the direction of the
submarine another torpedo struck us amidships and smashed practically
all the boats on the port side.
"Abandon ship" was given, as we were slowly settling down by the bows.
Our boat was soon crowded out, and there seemed not enough room for a
cat. The last man down the life-line was "Tubby," our cook's mate, who
came from Poplar.
When he was about half way down the boat was cut adrift and "Tubby" was
left hanging in mid-air. "Hi!" he shouted. "What abaht it?"