J; 
 
 Grand Fleet Days 
 
'* 'Bartimeus' has hitherto stood almost alone, 
 but now the anonymous author of * In the Northern 
 Mists' must take place beside him as an expounder 
 of life at sea." — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 -i^KSIkl. INTELLIGENCE 
 
 6s. net 
 
 THE CURTAIN OF STEEL 
 
 6s. net 
 
 IN THE NORTHERN MISTS 
 
 A Grand Fleet Chaplain's Note- Book 
 6s. net 
 
 " Nothing, so far as one can remember, gives as 
 good an idea as this book does of life in the Royal 
 Navy in time of war. " — World. 
 
 "It brings to us as we sit at ease the very scent 
 and sound of the sea, the murmurous crowded life of 
 the ships that pass on their lawful occasions. ... In 
 this book is the Navy to the life. It can be nothing 
 less. It is as convincing as a Somme film. Also it 
 is literature. . . . The book is one which any saint 
 might be provoked to steal. . . . This is a book which 
 etery Englishman would appreciate." — Church Times. 
 
 HODDER AND STOUGHTON 
 PUBLISHERS, LONDON, E.G. 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 IN THE NORTHERN MISTS 
 NAVAL INTELLIGENCE, etc. 
 
 HODDER AND STOUGHTON 
 LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO 
 

 Chapters I to XIV of this book originally appeared in 
 The Saturday Westminster under the title of "A Grand 
 Fleet Chaplain's Note-Book"; the "Wardroom Dia- 
 logues" in The Western Independent; the "Grand Fleet 
 Interludes" in The Western Evening Herald; and the 
 remainder in The Church Family Newspaper. The Author 
 desires to acknowledge most gratefully his indebtedness 
 to the proprietors and editors of these publications for 
 their permission to reprint the articles in book form. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 PAOB 
 
 I. 
 
 BROOCHES 
 
 1 
 
 II. 
 
 THE SOCIALIST .... 
 
 5 
 
 III. 
 
 LIGHT CRUISERS .... 
 
 10 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE sailor's SISTER . 
 
 14 
 
 V. 
 
 CONVERSATION LOLLIES 
 
 . 19 
 
 VI. 
 
 GENTLEMAN JIM .... 
 
 . 24 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE ORCA 
 
 . 28 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " MASTS AND YARDS " . 
 
 33 
 
 IX. 
 
 AN OLD-TIME CAPTAIN . 
 
 37 
 
 X. 
 
 WHITE AND GOLD .... 
 
 42 
 
 XI. 
 
 THE decoder's MIDDLE WATCH 
 
 46 
 
 XII. 
 
 SMUGGLING 
 
 51 
 
 XIII. 
 
 HEARD MELODIES .... 
 
 56 
 
 XIV. 
 
 SIXTEEN BELLS .... 
 
 60 
 
 XV. 
 
 WARDROOM DIALOGUES — 
 
 
 
 1. SEVEN-BELL TEA . 
 
 64 
 
 
 2. WRITING A LETTER 
 
 70 
 
 
 3. THE MESSMAN . . . . 
 
 75 
 
 
 4. THE MESS PAPERS 
 
 80 
 
 
 5. THE GRAMOPHONE 
 
 85 
 
 
 6. THE SHOWMAN . . . , 
 
 89 
 
 
 7. SOLVING AN ACROSTIC . 
 
 95 
 
 
 V 
 
 
 498510 
 
Contents 
 
 8. THE PERFECT PESSIMIST 
 
 9. THE SCAPEGOAT . 
 
 10. PAY-DAY 
 
 11. THE BURNING QUESTION 
 
 12. CRABBED AGE AND YOUTH 
 
 13. DIVIDED ATTENTION 
 
 14. MARY AND JOHN . 
 
 15. OUR MAGAZINE 
 
 16. OUR DEBATING SOCIETY 
 
 17. THE MORNING HATE 
 
 18. CHINASIDE 
 
 19. KNUBBLY BITS 
 
 20. THE WAR GAME . 
 XVI. A FLOATING VILLAGE . 
 
 XVII. BACKBONE OF THE NAVY 
 XVIII. THE STORY OF JOB 
 XIX. THE CLEAN UP 
 XX. GRAND FLEET INTERLUDES 
 
 1. THE GARDENERS . 
 
 2. OUR REVUE . 
 
 3. THE SAILING REGATTA 
 
 4. THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT 
 
 5. LECTURING . 
 
 6. A REAL INTERLUDE 
 
 7. THE VISIT OF H.M.S. CHATTY 
 
 8. THE PAPER AUCTION . 
 
 9. FLAT RACING. 
 
 10. THE SQUEEGEE BAND . 
 
 11. PARLOUR GAMES . 
 
 12. THE LAST INTERLUDE . 
 
 vi 
 
 PAGB 
 99 
 104 
 109 
 118 
 117 
 121 
 125 
 130 
 184 
 138 
 142 
 146 
 150 
 155 
 159 
 168 
 167 
 
 171 
 
 177 
 183 
 191 
 197 
 203 
 210 
 215 
 220 
 226 
 233 
 238 
 
/. Brooches 
 
 A LL over the country now, but especially in 
 /"^^ the big naval ports, you may meet on your 
 walks abroad many a pretty lass wearing 
 one of our brooches. 
 
 No, we don't make them on board. Multifarious 
 and astonishing as are the things produced from 
 the various departments of a man-of-war, they do 
 not include brooches. Our needs in this respect 
 are supplied by an enterprising firm ashore, which 
 knows exactly what sort of lure to spread before 
 the simple sailorman and how to cater for his 
 tastes. 
 
 Now I will describe to you what our brooches 
 really are. You can get them in three forms : 
 silver ones, at quite a small price ; enamel and gilt — 
 the style favoured by the vast majority of buyers ; 
 and, for the moneyed aristocrats of the lower deck, 
 such as E.R.A.'s, or for any who may happen to 
 be very deeply in love, there is the brooch-de-luxe, 
 in nine -carat gold ! 
 
 The design is that of the ship's crest, an appro- 
 priate emblem which at once reveals the ship's 
 name even to a casual beholder. Naval crests, 
 it should be remarked, have no official sanction, 
 
 B 1 
 
! J' .'" ' /J."« ' ii ' i"i . , » " J 
 
 :•': .•*: ' ..* ": : , J jBmxul Fleet Days 
 
 and are usually the outcome of deliberations con- 
 ducted when the ship first commissions by a select 
 committee of wardroom officers, assisted by Smith's 
 Classical Dictionary and such flights of fancy as 
 are reached by the more imaginative brains. There 
 is, for instance, a ship which has adopted as its 
 crest a Scythe ; you would never guess why, unless 
 you were told that it was held imperative to work 
 into the motto the words vincit omnia ; and, since 
 amor as subject of the sentence seemed inappro- 
 priate and labor was thought to be rubbing it in 
 too hard, a compromise was effected on tempus. 
 Hence the scythe. 
 
 In our own case, too, there was some slight dis- 
 cussion as to the choice; pedants and purists 
 insisting that of two main alternatives the one 
 favoured by the majority laid the ship open to the 
 charge of being of a lesser breed. However, the 
 lower deck took the matter out of our hands, and 
 adopted the questionable crest, which has, at any 
 rate, a fine blusterous air about it. 
 
 The purpose for which brooches exist is, of 
 course, that we may have Something to Send Home. 
 Our battlefield is not like that of the soldiers, 
 where helmets and fuses and other common objects 
 of the countryside may be collected ; consequently 
 we are obliged to rely on base merchandise for our 
 trophies, contenting ourselves with this reflection — 
 that while our gifts represent no deeds of derring- 
 do, they can at least be worn as articles of feminine 
 adornment; whereas no really smart girl would 
 
 2 
 
Brooches 
 
 care to be seen in a necklace of Boche bullets or 
 bracelets of copper driving- bands — ^unless she were 
 an Algonquin or a Masai. 
 
 I regret to state that there are those amongst us 
 who have sent several brooches, each one acom- 
 panied by protestations of imdying devotion ; but 
 I suppose the old traditions of the Navy have to be 
 maintained. 
 
 Few things seem at first sight further apart than 
 Love and PoHtical Economy; yet these brooches 
 of ours, designed to foment the tender sentiment, 
 had also an effect closely connected with the Un- 
 sentimental Science. Our high -explosive member 
 was greatly incensed when he first caught sight of 
 these trinkets ; to water down his remarks, he 
 raged at the idea of sailors wasting so much money 
 in war-time. " How much money do you think 
 went out of the ship last month, spent all on these 
 unspeakable atrocities ? Forty pounds ! Forty 
 pounds that might have been spent in War Loan ! " 
 
 " But," came the inevitable counter-attack, 
 "the forty pounds have not vanished into thin 
 air; the tradesman who gets them can still put 
 them into War Loan if he likes. And meanwhile 
 he is giving employment to a certain number of 
 workpeople." 
 
 " Exactly ! People who ought to be making 
 munitions or working in the fields 1 " 
 
 " But suppose they are too old for such work, 
 or incapacitated in any way for it — ^isn't it better 
 to give them work of this sort than that they 
 
 8 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 should become a burden on charity or on the 
 State ? " 
 
 Was the Ghost of Harriet Martineau looking down 
 upon us, I wonder? If so, she must have longed 
 to work us into one of her fascinating Tales I We 
 badly needed some such a guide to help us out of 
 our quagmire. But then, wardroom discussions 
 upon questions of Political Economy — yes, we 
 often play with such things — always land us in a 
 like position; and, as far as that goes, I think 
 we are no worse off than those experts who speak 
 at meetings, and write in the newspapers. 
 
 But I do remember that one of the first and most 
 important principles to remember is that there is 
 a great distinction between Productive and Unpro- 
 ductive Labour. And since our brooches produce 
 so much satisfaction in the givers, so much tender 
 kindness in the recipients, who shall dare to say 
 that the labour spent on them is Unproductive ? 
 
//. The Socialist. 
 
 THE great wonder was that he should ever 
 have come into the Navy at all; but I 
 think that the Prime Cause must have told 
 him that She wouldn't be seen walking out with 
 him unless he got into uniform ; and that he might 
 choose between becoming a Fighting Man and 
 getting another girl. Probably, also, his creed 
 teaching him that the Army consists of a Brutal 
 and Licentious Soldiery officered by Toffs, he 
 decided that a man of his democratic principles 
 would have a better time in the Navy. 
 
 Or it may be that with a fine self-sacrifice 
 he had judged it his duty to come and preach the 
 gospel of Syndicalism to an ignorant and deluded 
 dass of society; hoping to find in the simple 
 sailors a fruitful field for his labours. Whatever 
 his motive, Thomas Paine Higginbotham joined us, 
 early in the war, in the capacity of a stoker. His 
 history during the ensuing eighteen months or so 
 is of such interest that I propose to tell it now. 
 
 On the first occasion of his entering the stokehold 
 he seized the opportunity of beginning the good 
 work; a grinning crowd of " fellow-toilers," to use 
 his own term, listened with feelings as mixed as his 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 own metaphors while he explained to them that 
 they had allowed their birthright to be immolated 
 under the mocking heel of gilded tyrants. " You 
 are," he said, " a set of mercenary slaves bending 
 beneath the iron wheel of a selfish despotism — " 
 " And if you don't bend to that there iron shovel, 
 my lad," said the Chief Stoker at this point, 
 *' you'll get another one just like this ! " Whereat 
 our Socialist rubbed the seat of his trousers with 
 many sore reflections ; among which was the as- 
 tonished consideration that the Chief Stoker, him- 
 self one of the homy-handed sons of toil, could be 
 found willing to uphold the despotic system which 
 forced manual labour upon a man well qualified to 
 be an intellectual guide amongst his fellows. 
 
 Still, he consoled himself with the thought that 
 his remarks might bear fruit. He allowed them 
 to mature for a week before attempting any further 
 sowing of the seed. This time the Chief Stoker 
 was not in the immediate neighbourhood, or, as 
 Thomas Paine Higginbotham expressed it, not 
 " a-spyin' and eavesdroppin' in that contemptible 
 manner." He had, therefore, a freer hand, and 
 held forth for a good ten minutes upon the Rights 
 of Man, and the tyrannous habits of the upper 
 classes. When he had thoroughly warmed to his 
 subject he fixed his eye with that magnetic glance 
 that had so often held his audience in the United 
 Sons of Freedom club-room, fixed it upon another 
 stoker who appeared one of the most interested 
 listeners. " You, my brother," said he, " are 
 
 6 
 
The Socialist 
 
 toiling and moiling here below, while they gilded 
 popinjays of officers are all wallowing in idleness I 
 O, my Brother, why do you suffer such things 
 to be?" 
 
 " Was it me you was addressin' of yerself to as 
 your Brother ? " asked the other stoker. 
 
 ** It was ! " said Higginbotham. 
 
 '* Then, take that, you misbegotten son of Ham," 
 said the other, planting a brawny fist upon the 
 magnetic eye ; " and don't ye ever insult me agin 
 by calling me a brother to such a little lop-eared 
 gas-bag as you be I Brother, indeed I I've got 
 three brothers, two in the Navy and one in the 
 Army, and any one of them would scorn to soil 
 his hands by usin' you to mop up muck with ! '* 
 
 All this time we had been in harbour. When 
 we went to sea Higginbotham' s progress advanced 
 another stage. He was violently seasick. " Well, 
 supposin' you are ? " asked one of his callous 
 messmates ; " you're no worse off than the Captain. 
 He gits sick every time we puts to sea ; yet there 
 he is up on the bridge wastin' good vittles as fast 
 as he puts 'em down, but stickin' to his job, same 
 as you've got to ! " 
 
 It was certainly a revelation, to hear that one of 
 the Gilded Tyrants should suffer the same discom- 
 forts as an ordinary stoker, and from that moment 
 Higginbotham began to feel more kindly disposed 
 towards the race of Oppressors. But he professed 
 himself too ill to carry on with his work, and was 
 taken to the Sick-Bay and nursed with as much 
 
 7 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 care and attention as if he had been a Gilded 
 Tyrant himself. The Fleet Surgeon addressed 
 him as " My boy," and spun him a long yarn about 
 his own sufferings when he first came to sea, assur- 
 ing him that he would get over the tendency in 
 time ; talking, all the time, as Man to Man. 
 
 Cheered by this treatment, Higginbotham ac- 
 tually made an effort next day to struggle back 
 to work, although he still felt very unwell. He 
 found that there had been some slight defect in 
 the engine-room which had given a good deal of 
 trouble ; and the grimy man in dirty overalls 
 against whom he stumbled cursed him roundly 
 for a clumsy lout, being a little short-tempered 
 after having been twenty-four consecutive hours 
 at work trying to put things right; this tired, 
 grease -stained toiler was none other than the 
 Engineer Lieutenant-Commander, as Higginbotham 
 discovered to his further surprise. 
 
 Weeks and months passed. I will not attempt 
 to follow every separate step of Higginbotham' s 
 education, but will skip till we come to the final 
 stage. We thought we were going into action one 
 day. Higginbotham found himself one of a thou- 
 sand men all inspired with precisely the same wish ; 
 all liable to the same dangers, and all working in 
 their various jobs as laboriously as himself. 
 
 "And what d'ye think o' Sosherlism now?" 
 asked his friend who had once for a season closed 
 his magnetic optic. 
 
 Higginbotham drew himself up like a man, and 
 
 8 
 
The Socialist 
 
 he spat into the open furnace before closing the 
 door. 
 
 " Socialism," he began 
 
 But on second thoughts I will not risk corroding 
 my iridium-pointed nib with what he said about 
 Socialism, y 
 
 9 
 
Ill, Light Cruisers 
 
 A MAN called Emerson once took the trouble 
 to write a long essay on the subject of 
 Compensations, pointing out that what 
 you lose on the swings you generally make up on 
 the roundabouts. 
 
 That is the worst of essays; they heave and 
 strain themselves like a fly on a sheet of tanglefoot 
 just to tell you something you knew perfectly 
 well already. 
 
 But if I am not careful, this will turn into an 
 Essay on Essays ; and Ex ore tuo will be my well- 
 deserved reproof. 
 
 What I was going to say really is that Emerson 
 could not have found a better example for his 
 " Compensations " than the Light Cruiser — ^if 
 such a thing had existed in his day ; but he knew 
 only its prototypes, the frigate and the brig, and 
 there must have been very few compensations 
 attached to life aboard those craft. 
 
 For that matter, Hfe in a Light Cruiser isn't all 
 beer and skittles. The smaller vessels of this type 
 can disport themselves quite as unpleasantly as 
 any destroyer, and are very little more comfortable 
 to Kve in, yet do not get the solace of " Hard- 
 
 XO 
 
Light Cruisers 
 
 lying money." Item, being small, they do not 
 stand much of a chance should they happen to sit 
 on a mine, and being unarmoured they are liable 
 to be turned into scrap iron by a single salvo from 
 the enemy's guns. 
 
 Mines and projectiles, however, can be taken 
 philosophically, like bankruptcy and appendicitis ; 
 unpleasant things, but they don't come along 
 every day and may not happen at all. The minor 
 evils of life are always far more trying than its 
 great disasters, especially if they remain present 
 continuously; on the whole, Charles the First 
 found it more tolerable to lose his head than to 
 have it addled by House of Commons speeches; 
 and the majority of people could more easily resign 
 themselves to red ruin and the breaking up of laws 
 than to a red nose and the breaking out of pimples. 
 So, in the case of the Light Cruiser, one of the chief 
 drawbacks is being obliged to live continuously 
 with a very small number of fellow-men in a very 
 small space, and never being able to get away from 
 them. This applies to all ships in some degree, 
 since the biggest ship afloat is not greatly superior 
 in size to the Ark, in which eight people were con- 
 sidered quite sufficient ; but in the small wardroom 
 of a Light Cruiser, when the commission has lasted 
 nearly a couple of years and leave is but a fading 
 memory — ^well, no wonder if even a rescued Hun 
 would be a welcome relief I 
 
 But now for the Compensations. " We haven't 
 got much tonnage, but we do see life," might 
 
 11 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 well be the Light Cruiser's motto. The big pon- 
 derous battleships may console themselves with the 
 reflection that they are the Ships that Matter, 
 but they don't get much fun; they represent 
 the fathers and mothers of the fleet, the solid, 
 respectable mainstays of the family, leading a dull 
 life in Olympian aloofness ; no doubt they are 
 indispensable, but what do they know of the joys 
 of playing Last Across in front of motors, of chuck- 
 ing things at stout policemen and then running 
 away, of bewildering elderly gentlemen with 
 persistent questionings and practical jokes ? 
 
 All these pleasures come within the purview of the 
 Light Cruiser, which makes the lumbering German 
 battleship the mark for six-inch and four-inch 
 projectiles, dances merrily athwart the course of 
 the battle -cruiser, and slyly deposits objects even 
 more upsetting than banana-skins in the path of 
 the unwary foe. 
 
 And even if life is made irksome by incessant 
 patrolling, there is the satisfaction of knowing that 
 any one of these boring naval occasions may develop 
 into a Stunt; and then there's no knowing what 
 may happen I 
 
 Light Cruisers resemble Light Opera in this 
 respect, that the chorus get as good a chance as 
 the principals ; everyone's part is an important 
 one, and contributes vitally to the success of the 
 show. Who wouki have thought, for example, that 
 the one name which stands out most prominently 
 for honour and valour in all the Jutland Battle 
 
 12 
 
Light Cruisers 
 
 Despatch should be that of a Boy in a Light 
 Cruiser? So long as that great sea-fight is re- 
 membered, so long also will be remembered the 
 name of Boy Comwell, of the Chester, 
 
 The old title of the " Eyes of the Fleet " pertains 
 now almost alone to ships of this class. Cruisers 
 of more massive tonnage having become practically 
 line -of -battle ships, the chief part of all scouting 
 work falls now practically entirely on the Light 
 Cruisers. 
 
 Miles ahead of the main fleet, ahead also of 
 the armoured cruisers, they speed towards the 
 advancing enemy to glean what information they 
 may of his movements and the composition of his 
 forces. At great risk to themselves they carry out 
 this essential work, because they are far from 
 their supports. 
 
 They get into touch; their wireless buzzes out 
 the invaluable news ; they turn now, their errand 
 effected, and make their way back with what speed 
 they may. Or else they find opposing cruisers 
 and destroyers coming against them and are able 
 to put up a little scrap on their own. 
 
 Yes, they have their compensations, certainly ! 
 I do not know whether there should be reckoned 
 amongst these the fact that they do not generally 
 carry chaplains. 
 
 18 
 
IV, The Sailors Sister 
 
 THE exclamation of one of our lieutenants, 
 toiled with works of war and longing 
 after the fleshpots of Egypt, awoke many 
 thoughts in my mind; " I say," he cried, " when 
 this war is over — shall we all be allowed to strafe 
 Lloyd George again ? " 
 
 Ah, how sweet, too bitter sweet, to recall those 
 memories, hopes, and loves of finished years 1 
 What fun it used to be to let drive at the " Little 
 Welsh Attorney " ! Such joys come now only in 
 the speaking silence of a dream 1 
 
 There was another Nursery Game of those happy 
 far-off days, a game called Votes for Women. 
 You used to take sides — ^it was great sport ! But 
 it made you awfully hot, that was the worst of 
 it; and sometimes those who played it got too 
 rough. You only had to have one thing, called a 
 Vote, to play it with ; or else you didn't have it, 
 and then you had to try to get it from the other side. 
 
 Will that game be revived again, I wonder? 
 They say that in certain circles even Ping-Pong 
 
 Well, if it does come into fashion again, I know 
 who can have my Vote, if she wants it ; yes, and 
 if she chooses to hold out her pinny she can get 
 
 14 
 
The Sailor's Sister 
 
 it filled with them; for every one in the Navy 
 will certainly give anything she asks for to — ^the 
 Sailor's Sister. 
 
 To give her her proper official designation, she 
 is a member of Queen Alexandra's Royal Naval 
 Nursing Service ; but who on earth is going to 
 call her all that? " Sister " is quite good enough 
 for us, and " Sister " she always is and always will 
 be to the officer and the seaman who have the bad 
 luck to get ill or wounded, but the good luck to 
 be nursed back to health under the care of the 
 Ministering Angel, Naval Pattern, Mark One — ^that 
 is, " Sister." 
 
 Once I was shipmates with her for three whole 
 years. Not at sea — alas ! the stern regulations of 
 the Navy do not allow her to form part of the 
 complement of the ordinary man-of-war; though 
 since the war started she has gone afloat in 
 Hospital Ships ; where I met her was in a Stone 
 Frigate — ^that is to say, a Naval Shore Establish- 
 ment, and therefore my knowledge and my 
 admiration are founded upon experience. 
 
 I met her busied about her ordinary work, 
 without any limelight of popular adulation to 
 lighten her. I met her on duty, tired out with 
 walking the stone corridors and ward floors at the 
 end of a trying day in a hot summer ; I met her in 
 her off-duty time, ready for a picnic, a dance, 
 tennis, or anything that might come along. And 
 in the dead of night, too, at the bedside of a dying 
 man. On each occasion, under all circumstances, 
 
 15 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Sister showed herself — ^how can I express it? — 
 equal to all the demands made of her; keenly 
 attentive to duty, a thorough Sport, full of 
 tenderness and sympathy, full of common-sense 
 and human kindness. 
 
 And full of knowledge, also. For, mark you, 
 the Sailor's Sister is not of that class to whom 
 applies the now war-worn jest, " If you please. 
 Sister, I'm too ill to be nursed this afternoon." 
 There is nothing of the amateur about her ; very 
 much the contrary, in fact. Other kinds of Sisters 
 and Nurses may be untrained or partly trained; 
 but the young lady aspirant for the Naval Nursing 
 Service must begin by going through a hospital 
 training ; she must remain at this for four years ; 
 and she must become properly qualified and 
 certificated ; after that, she may get taken on in 
 the Navy. 
 
 Or — she may not. 
 
 The Sailor's Sister in war-time has had many 
 ordeals to face ; when the wounded have been 
 brought in, and all the beds in the hospital were 
 not enough for the number of patients, and twenty- 
 four hours all too short for one day. She worked 
 against time, coping with cases that could profit- 
 ably have employed six of her, forgetting all about 
 those two hours off-duty time which all properly 
 constituted authorities consider absolutely essen- 
 tial to a nurse's health, forgetting almost to eat 
 and drink, sleeping in snatches, forgoing her own 
 comfort, unmindful of her own needs. In not a 
 
 16 
 
The Sailor's Sister 
 
 few cases she has left her tired body to rest be- 
 neath a foreign soil; and the Ocean has reached 
 out its arms and taken her, bidding her sleep and 
 end her labours. 
 
 It has not been my fortune to see her — only to 
 hear of her — during these months of strain and 
 stress. In less troublous days, perhaps the most 
 wonderful thing to note about her was that a 
 dozen of her could live in one house without 
 quarrelling and without going into hysterics. 
 
 As this is, in a sense, a " Woman's Page " of my 
 Note -Book, it will not be complete without some 
 reference to the important subject of Dress ; for 
 this Sister of ours, though she's but a lassie, yet 
 she's in the Navy too, and must have a naval 
 uniform. This is, appropriately, of navy blue, 
 with a short shoulder-cape. And in summer- 
 time, or on foreign stations with a warm climate, 
 she wears the most bewitching uniform ever de- 
 vised ; it is of white drill, and the white shoulder- 
 cape has a border of bright red, a narrow piping 
 for those of lower degree and a band about an inch 
 in width for Head Sisters. On the head is worn a 
 white coif, or wimple, or whatever you call the 
 thing. My powers of description fail at this point. 
 
 But what a falling off is there in the hideous and 
 (I'm sure it must be) uncomfortable evening dress 
 uniform, invented only a short time back, an 
 atrocity of bright blue silk, buttoned up to the 
 neck 1 Imagine the feelings of a poor girl doomed 
 to wear this dreadful garb in a hot room when all 
 
 c 17 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 the others are happy in their pretty, airy chiffons 
 and taffetas — {is taffetas right ?). 
 
 For the miserable gentleman at the Admiralty 
 who invented this unhappy costume the most 
 appropriate Curse I can think of is : May all the 
 infections which the sun sucks up from bogs, fens, 
 flats, upon him fall and make him by inchmeal a 
 disease ; and may there be no Naval Sister at his 
 side to cheer and restore him. Serve him jolly 
 well right ! 
 
 The following verses were sent by an anonymous 
 reader to the author. It will be seen that he has 
 taken her advice. 
 
 " Padre, do not think me cheeky, that I dare to send this scrawl 
 To a sporting Grand Fleet Chaplain whom I do not know at all. 
 
 Often has the fancy seized me — often have I seized my pen — 
 Muttered to myself most fiercely, pacing up and down my den. 
 
 Saying, * I will write a letter, stating clearly what I think,' 
 But my courage always failed me — till at last I took to drink ! 
 
 And I wooed the fiery nose-paint, swallowed quarts and quarts of gin, 
 Till the spirit rose within me, bade me now and here begin. 
 
 Listen, Padre ! We all love you. Yes, we often say you're ' It ! * 
 When in Saturday's Westminster we peruse your cheery chit. 
 
 We adore you ! (Padre, Padre, do not frown and do not blush — 
 We'd say more if space permitted and it didn't sound like gush.) 
 
 But methinks my mind is wandering. I must pull myself together ; 
 What I really want to know is — wiU you please consider whether 
 
 You could not select some note sheets, have them bound by hook 
 
 or crook, 
 (Better still by or ), they would make a topping book. 
 
 I've heard lots of people say so, land-lubbers and sailors true. 
 And your notes have often cheered me when I felt most awful blue. 
 
 So prithee. Padre, don't refuse me, but bring out that notebook, do ! 
 Though I'm but a wee bit lassie, sure I'm in the Navy too." 
 
 Some Sailor's Sister Stcsie. 
 
 18 
 
V. Conversation Lollies 
 
 THEY are those flat white things, very hard, 
 and strongly flavoured with peppermint; 
 the word " Lollies " is used here as a 
 tribute to the brave Anzacs, since it is universally 
 employed in Australasia to describe what our effete 
 civilisation knows as " Sweets." 
 
 Conversation Lollies have various legends im- 
 printed on them in a ravishing shade of pink; 
 each separate inscription is very interesting in its 
 own particular way ; but, in spite of the claim in- 
 herent in the Lollies' name, I am inclined to think 
 that a conversation conducted by means of these 
 tablet inscriptions must be a little disconnected. 
 " My heart is ever thine " may conceivably be 
 an appropriate reply to " Do you like sweet two- 
 lips ? " but it is difficult to see what bearing " Get 
 out and get under " has upon " True love can never 
 dier 
 
 I am frequently reminded of these Conversation 
 Lollies by the wisps and tattered ends of talk 
 which are carried about on the air of the Ante- 
 Room when a number of us are gathered there 
 during one of those stand-easy times of the day 
 when each man's job of work is over for a while ; 
 
 19 
 
Grand Fleet Bays 
 
 when all the settees are packed, and the weight 
 of four officers sitting upon the rickety card-table 
 seriously threatens the health of its one remaining 
 sound leg; when there is a continual coming and 
 going, and the sound of the closing skylights and 
 hatches adds still more to the difficulty of listening 
 — ^though no one bothers much about listening, 
 and the speakers themselves do not care greatly 
 whether anyone listens or not. Discourse is 
 carried on in the midst of a perfectly dreadful 
 frowst, which is only made bearable by intincturing 
 it with clouds of baccy-smoke. In the midst of it 
 all there are those who sit raptly oblivious, playing 
 chess or reading; and others, again, appear to 
 think it a suitable occasion for bursting into 
 song. Sometimes the promiscuous interchange of 
 conversation lollies gives astonishing results. 
 For my own part, I was reading, — 
 
 The carved angels, ever eager-eyed, 
 Stared, where upon their heads the cornice rests, 
 With hair blown back, and wings put crosswise on their 
 breasts. 
 
 " They wept," said a voice at my side ; " they 
 wept like anything to see such quantities of sand I " 
 He chanted rather than spoke these words, and 
 infused the deepest fervour into his impassioned 
 recital — " they wept like anything " — " such quan- 
 tities of sand 1 " But I cannot tell you the cause 
 of his spirited monologue any more than I could 
 understand at the moment why my eager-eyed 
 angels should weep at the sight of sand. 
 
 20 
 
Conversation Lollies 
 
 " I was Officer of the Day," broke in another 
 voice, " and the Carpenter brought the man up 
 before me for chucking his hand in — ^the chap had 
 got a moan about some silly thing or other, and 
 refused to do any more work." 
 
 " What was he supposd to be doing ? " 
 
 " Why the Carpenter gave him an order to clear 
 away the wood that was stacked on top of the 
 superstructure ^" 
 
 " Bo you suppose, the Walrus said, that they 
 could get it clear ? I douht it, said the Carpenter.'* 
 
 " And the Carpenter cursed him for being a 
 clumsy, careless swab, and told him to keep his 
 eyes on his job, and not be always gazing about in 
 every direction." 
 
 Nor look behkid, nor sideways, but require 
 
 Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire. 
 
 " Then the fellow apparently gave him a bit of 
 back-chat, and the Carpenter brought him up 
 before me. I asked him what he had to say for 
 himself, and all he said was that the Carpenter had 
 no right to be after miscalling after him and using 
 langwidge to him." 
 
 " And what did the Carpenter say to that ? " 
 " The Carpenter said nothing but ' The butter's 
 spread too thick.' " This was from the rapt 
 reciter at my side, who took a singular pleasure, 
 I do not know why, in burbling aloud those im- 
 mortal verses. From a little group in the far 
 comer came borne on the clouds — of tobacco 
 
 21 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 smoke — ^the voices of some interested onlookers 
 who were loquaciously playing the game of two 
 chess enthusiasts hidden somewhere within the 
 ring of bystanders. 
 
 " He ought to have taken the Knight." 
 
 " No, he oughtn't ! Black would have had him 
 in two moves if he did that." 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! Look here, now — White 
 sacrifices the pawn, and the next time he gets a 
 castle, and a better position 1 " 
 
 " Well, dry up, and let him play his own game ; 
 don't keep on buzzing away like " 
 
 Let no buzz'd whisper tell. 
 
 " — Ah, that's it ! Black's going to get it in 
 the neck now all right 1 " 
 
 A hundred swords 
 
 Will storm his heart. Love's feverous citadel, 
 
 *' If you wouldn't mind," spake one of the 
 exasperated players, with acid politeness, " we 
 could play this game considerably better if just a 
 few of you were to run away and play ; we don't 
 mind two or three of you, but " 
 
 " We cannot do with more than four, to give a 
 hand to each ** 
 
 "So as he wouldn't listen to reason, I put him 
 in the Commander's report." 
 
 " If he goes there, he'll be in check. He can't 
 do it.'* 
 
 22 
 
Conversation Lollies 
 
 ** Luckily the Commander himself came along at 
 that moment " 
 
 Ah, happy chance ! the aged creature came, 
 Shuflfling along with ivory-headed wand. 
 
 " Much better if he were to take the pawn. If 
 he doesn't, he stands a very fair chance of losing 
 
 his queen " 
 
 " That would be a dismal thing to do ! " 
 " Well," broke in a new voice at this juncture, 
 " what about this mess -meeting we are going to 
 hold ? Let's have it now — everybody seems to be 
 here — ^who's away ? anybody ? " 
 
 They are all here to-night, 
 
 I read; and as the words seemed so appropriate 
 I could not refrain from reading them aloud before 
 closing my book — 
 
 They are all here to-night, the whole bloodthirsty race ! 
 
 23 
 
VI. Gentleman Jim 
 
 THE white flower of a blameless life is all 
 very well in its way; but there is no 
 need to keep flaunting it in the buttonhole 
 of your coat. 
 
 This moral maxim had not been included in the 
 education of James Holroyd, who joined us some 
 time ago as a temporary Writer, and consequently 
 he did not harmonise with his environment. 
 
 Quite a large number of things shocked James 
 on his first arrival. His finer feelings were in- 
 expressibly jarred when he saw the people in his 
 mess eating their meals by the simple aid of a 
 clasp-knife and their fingers. " Are we not 
 supplied with suitable table -appointments ? " he 
 inquired. 
 
 " With wot ? " 
 
 " With appropriate implements ; with regular 
 feeding-utensils .' * 
 
 " Aw, I see what yer drivin' at ! Ho, yuss, we 
 gets a knife, fork, and spoon — but don't let me 
 catch you a-usin' of 'em, that's all ! Them things 
 has got to be kept clean for mustering at inspection, 
 and I'm not goin' to risk any of 'em goin' adrift ! " 
 
 It was the Petty Officer of his mess that gave 
 
 24 
 
Gentleman Jim 
 
 him this information ; a coarse soul, whose finger- 
 nails were always very black, though not so black 
 as James's estimate of his character. " A man 
 of no refinement, with whom I cannot feel any 
 sympathetic affinity whatever," he described him 
 in a letter. The letter was written on scented 
 paper of a pale mauve tint, bought privately 
 ashore. Only when a petty officer s picnic took 
 place a little time later did Holroyd begin to 
 perceive that character is a many-sided affair ; the 
 cutter was under sail, and James Holroyd, sitting 
 idle in the stem-sheets, and feeling a little nervous, 
 was unable to help admiring the masterly way in 
 which Huggins, the petty-officer of his own mess, 
 managed the boat, and assumed a dignified yet 
 cheery command of the voluntary crew, who were 
 all men of his own standing, yet obeyed his orders 
 implicitly. Also, when the picnic-party proceeded 
 to bathe, Huggins devoted the whole of his time 
 in endeavouring to teach James to swim. Swim- 
 ming was an accomplishment which the youth 
 had never thought worth acquiring before, and he 
 proved rather a stupid and slow pupil, but Huggins, 
 a magnificent swimmer, was very patient and 
 goodnatured, and encouraged him to go on trying. 
 
 Of course his messmates dubbed him Gentleman 
 Jim from the start, and he was rather proud than 
 otherwise of the appellation. 
 
 " Such is the ideal I have always made it my 
 aspiration to live up to," he declared, " and to my 
 mind there can be no higher title I " " Swank," 
 
 25 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 replied his hearers, and one of them muttered 
 unkindly, " Cut it out ! " 
 
 " I feel very greatly my loneliness amongst 
 hundreds of heartless men," he wrote home about 
 this time, " and do so pine for some congenial 
 society, and for some intellectual pastimes with 
 kindred spirits." 
 
 One cannot help feeling a little sorry for poor 
 Holroyd at this stage. 
 
 Another thing that pained him grievously was 
 the entire lack of privacy on board ship. Hitherto 
 he had lived the very much sheltered life, but he 
 found his new abode slightly different in this 
 respect. One morning he was told to take a 
 certain memo, to a lieutenant, and having reached 
 the cabin he knocked gently on the bulkhead — 
 and then discovered by the noise of splashing that 
 the officer behind the curtain was having his bath ! 
 " Come in ! " shouted the lieutenant ; but James 
 hesitated on account of his natural modesty. 
 " Come irif I say," bawled the voice again; " what 
 the deuce are you standing out there for? You're 
 not a perishing lady s-maid, are you ? " And 
 James entered, suffused with blushes, while the 
 entirely unabashed young giant of a lieutenant 
 stood over him naked and dripping wet to sign the 
 papers. But when poor Holroyd learnt that the 
 bathing arrangements of the lower deck entailed 
 upon himself an even higher degree of publicity, 
 he was so overcome that he was for refraining from 
 the bath altogether, until a sage moralist taught 
 
 26 
 
Gentleman Jim 
 
 him, " Houtward happearances ain't nothin' to 
 go by, me lad ; it's them what thinks modest, as is 
 modest indeed ! " 
 
 So, Httle by Httle, knowledge began to sink into 
 Holroyd's soul. I do not say that some finer 
 instincts were not blunted a little in the process, 
 and the bloom of innocence rubbed somewhat bare 
 in places ; that is the pity of it, that with the clear- 
 ing off of the glaring varnish overlaid on the work 
 of an " old master " you run the risk of injuring 
 the true surface as well ; and especially is this true 
 with regard to the work of the greatest Master of 
 all, when you try to clear away the rubbishy 
 coating of vulgarity overlaid on a human soul. 
 So let all men beware how they take in hand the 
 improvement of anyone they affect to despise. 
 
 But, on the whole, the process was for the good 
 in James's case. There is much that is regrettable 
 about naval life, no doubt, but there is a great 
 deal more that is truly admirable and noble. 
 And when James Holroyd goes back into civil life 
 again he may, possibly, be a little less of a " gentle- 
 man," in the opinion of his former friends; but 
 he will certainly be much more of a Man I 
 
 27 
 
VII. The Orca 
 
 EERARY comparisons must always be 
 matters of opinion ; but, to my thinking, 
 the Rime of the Ancient Mariner is left 
 streets behind by the narrative which I now 
 propose to unfold. This story is in a different 
 class altogether, and the best that Poet Coleridge's 
 yam can hope for is to be ranked " With but 
 After." Here also is the final solution of that 
 which has always been an admitted mystery — the 
 personality and motive of the Ancient Mariner 
 himself. 
 
 Let these matters wait, however, for a moment, 
 while I first introduce the officer who is at once the 
 hero and the narrator of the monumental sea-epic 
 of The Orca, 
 
 To tell you all about him would take too long; 
 his Life has yet to be written, comprising innumer- 
 able adventures in every part of the world, and all 
 of them Absolutely True . He entered the Merchant 
 Service at an early age, and therein spent an event- 
 ful career, the tamest experience of it being blown 
 by a gale stem first through the Magellan Straits. 
 But I do not purpose recounting his other adven- 
 tures, though the incident of " The Head Baboon's 
 
 28 
 
The Orca 
 
 Wife," and the amazing story of the " Tanjong 
 Pagar Princess," not to mention the tale of the 
 " Gharry-horse and the Lift," might well be worth 
 telling at some future time. For the present it is 
 sufficient to state that he blew in amongst us with 
 all the romance of the Seven Seas clinging to him, 
 still trailing clouds of glory from his previous 
 existence as the Brightest Jewel in the British- 
 India. 
 
 Enough of this ; my leaden words shall yield 
 place to his golden ones, and without further 
 preface the story of The Orca shall now begin. 
 
 " We were lying at Dunedin at the time. Know 
 Dunedin? Pretty place — but we didn't think 
 about the beauties of scenery and architecture ; 
 all our attention was devoted to the beauties of 
 food 1 You see, we had been marooned at Stewart 
 Island for two solid months without food and 
 without clothes — " 
 
 " Why, how did that happen ? " 
 
 " Oh, we put there to refit, after being knocked 
 about by a gale in the Antarctic, went ashore, 
 bathed, tide rose, boat and all our clothes drifted 
 out to sea, and, well, there we were, stranded ! " 
 
 " Couldn't you swim off to the ship ? " 
 
 " Swim off? Man alive, you don't know what 
 the sharks are like in those waters ! Three poor 
 fellows tried it, and all got taken before our very 
 eyes ! All by the same shark too. We soon got 
 to recognise him; the brute used to come every 
 day after that and He just off the beach, waiting 
 
 29 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 for us ; and at last, when he saw we weren't taking 
 any, he turned nasty, and just tried to rile us by — 
 you'd never guess 1 " 
 
 "No, how?" 
 
 " Why, he knew we hadn't got any clothes — of 
 course, he had seen them all floating around in the 
 water ; so, just out of spite and mockery, he came 
 one morning and stuck his head up out of the water, 
 waving in his jaws a pair of trousers he had picked 
 up!" 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 " Absolutely true, I give you my word ! They 
 were my trousers too — I recognised them by a blue 
 patch in the seat, where a piece had been torn 
 out when I was being chased by a tiger in the 
 Sunderbunds." 
 
 " You never told us about that 1 How did you 
 escape from the tiger? " 
 
 " Why, just at the moment when he nearly got 
 me, and tore the piece out of my trousers, I shinned 
 up a tree, and, after being there two hours, I made 
 a noose with my belt and lassoed him by the tail ; 
 I hauled heavy till his hind-quarters were well 
 clear of the ground and kept him like that till he 
 died from the rush of blood to the head." 
 
 " But you're getting away from the other story. 
 How did you manage to evade the sharks at 
 last?" 
 
 " Oh, wash out the sharks ! I was telling you 
 about what happened at Dunedin. Our men were 
 so himgry that nothing would stop them from 
 
 80 
 
The Orca 
 
 killing and eating everything they could see. One 
 day there was a great Orca swimming around the 
 ship " 
 
 *' A Great Auk, did you say ? '' 
 
 " No, stupid 1 The Great Auk was extinct years 
 ago ; I shot the last one myself. This was an Orca, 
 with three of her young swimming close to her. 
 Well, the cook's mate — I tried to stop him, but 
 wasn't quick enough — was fool enough to harpoon 
 one of the young ones 1 I knew there would be 
 trouble, and told him so; but he only laughed 
 at me ! " 
 
 " Well, why shouldn't he laugh ? He got what 
 he was fishing for, didn't he ? " 
 
 " He got a jolly sight more than that I He 
 didn't see the pilot-fish swimming with the Orca. 
 / did ! Seven of them there were ! And — ^would 
 you believe it ? — ^those seven pilot-fish followed us 
 when we left Dunedin, and stuck to us the whole 
 voyage 1 ^Vhen we got to Falmouth I looked over 
 the side, and sure enough there they were still I 
 And with us they remained on the next voyage. 
 In spite of the fact that when we put into San 
 Francisco the captain got knifed ashore, and three 
 of the deck-hands died of dysentery, and the bo'sun 
 ran — he became a Tammany Boss afterwards, 
 I heard. And three more were washed overboard 
 in a squall, and the second mate went loony through 
 sleeping in the moonlight in the tropics. And 
 another man suddenly got religion — so he wasn't 
 any dumed use aboard a sailing-ship, of course I 
 
 81 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 In fact, various misfortunes overtook us, until, 
 by the time we had finished our outward voyage, 
 there were none of the original lot left, except the 
 cook's mate and myself. And all the time those 
 pilot-fish had followed us ! 
 
 " Well, we fetched up at last. In Dunedin 
 again. And no sooner had we dropped killick 
 than I noticed those pilot-fish dart ahead and 
 disappear — for ever ! " 
 
 "Well, what about it ? That isn't very exciting!" 
 
 " Wait I We lowered a boat to go ashore ; and 
 I and the cook's mate were in it. Half a mile 
 from the beach what should I see, to my horror, 
 but a great bull Orca charging towards us, lashing 
 the water furiously. We could do nothing ! 
 The brute came on, butted into us, upsetting the 
 boat — and made off with the cook's mate bleeding 
 and struggling in his jaws .' " 
 
 Now I know what the Ancient Mariner was : he 
 was a most phenomenal old — well, let's put it this 
 way : he was a pensioned officer of the Merchant 
 Service. 
 
VIII, " Masts and Yards " 
 
 I READ somewhere recently the remark of an 
 American writer to the effect that on seeing 
 our invahded sailors lodged in a Naval Hos- 
 pital bearing an inscription dating from the time of 
 Charles II. he realised that the war is but an episode 
 in British naval history. 
 
 There are several other details of a similar nature, 
 which remind you that ours is not an affair of 
 mushroom growth like the (German Navy, which 
 was inaugurated in 1848 and sold by public auction 
 in 1864 — as may very likely be its fate again, to be 
 sold for scrap-iron this time. All sorts of traditions 
 and survivals are closely interwoven with the pre- 
 sent customs of the Navy, though it is very rarely 
 that anyone takes the trouble to look into old 
 associations of a date before Trafalgar. 
 
 For instance, you may observe in the newspaper 
 now and again the appointment of a Naval Chap- 
 lain to a Living in the gift of the Admiralty. There 
 are eight of these Livings, all situated in one dis- 
 trict of Northumberland. Certainly, the connexion 
 between these out-of-the-world North -Country 
 parishes and the Admiralty is not at first obvious ; 
 but it dates from the time of the Old Pretender, 
 D 83 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 amongst whose misguided followers was the Earl 
 of Derwentwater, the owner of large estates in 
 Northumberland; the Earl was attainted, and 
 his estates all confiscated ; the Livings being put 
 in trust of Greenwich Hospital for presentation to 
 ex-Naval Chaplains. A very laudable act, and 
 one which might be repeated with advantage. 
 Are there any British estates owned, I wonder, by 
 the present holder of the title of Duke of Cumber- 
 land ; and are there any Livings attached to 
 them? 
 
 These, however, are but modem instances ; 
 much older ones can easily be adduced. The 
 other day I had occasion to " put in a demand " 
 for certain books, and had to indent them from 
 Deptford Yard ; my demand -note was filed there 
 by some clerk who goes down each morning from 
 his house in the suburbs to his office in Deptford 
 Yard ; as his predecessors have done every day 
 since the reign of Henry the Eighth ! 
 
 But why drag in these comparatively recent 
 times ? We can go further back than these ; Con- 
 scription, which to the mass of our countrymen is 
 a modem invention, is no new thing to us, seeing 
 that Parliament passed an Act legalising " Pressing 
 for the King's Navy," in the reign of Richard the 
 Second ! 
 
 And when you leave the shore behind, with all its 
 old-fashioned naval establishments, and step aboard 
 a ship, you may still find yourself amid many things 
 reminiscent of the ancient days, even though you 
 
 84 
 
Masts and Yards 
 
 seem to be standing in a vast box of highly scientific 
 machinery that bears no more resemblance to 
 the ships of a hundred years ago than the Riviera 
 Express does to a stage-coach. Yet old names and 
 old terms still survive. In your tour around the 
 ship you visit the forecastle — or " foxle," as 
 the sailor writes the word — and probably fail to 
 remember that the name is a survival from olden 
 days when the early wooden ships were constructed 
 with a high castle of several storeys in the fore 
 part of the ship, from which the bowmen might 
 discharge their artillery. You may have seen an 
 illustration of the Great Harry, with a good example 
 of what the forecastle once was. 
 
 As ships were then built, there was also an 
 " after-castle " at the other end ; and it is interest- 
 ing to note that although this name has yielded 
 place to the term " quarter-deck," yet the modem 
 sailor still cuts AXLE upon the wooden buckets 
 appropriated to the quarter-deckmen's use. 
 
 The official expression relative to the departure 
 of a ship still speaks of her date of sailing ; and 
 there are many other such terms which trace their 
 origin back to the days of " Masts and Yards,** 
 when " the weather gauge ** was an important 
 advantage over an enemy — as important as *' tak- 
 ing the wind out of her sails " in a race with a 
 friendly competitor. 
 
 " Mast and Yards,*' as an expressive term, has 
 come to symbolise " Old Navy" ideas and ways. 
 With many more senior officers, laudatores temporis 
 
 85 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 acti, it is an article of faith that " it was a bad day 
 for the Navy when masts and yards were done 
 away with." 
 
 Indeed, the day of their doom was not so very 
 long ago; few are the officers of Commanders 
 rank and above who have not been shipmates with 
 " Masts and Yards '* in their earlier years. Not, 
 of course, in ships where sails were the only means 
 of propulsion, but in composite ships, principally 
 of the " Down-funnel-up-screw " type; in which 
 there was a telescopic arrangement allowing the 
 funnel to be lowered beneath the deck, and a 
 contrivance for clearing the screw-propeller out of 
 the way at such times as a good sailing-breeze 
 sprang up. 
 
 One such " Masts and Yards " officer was ship- 
 mates with me once, as First Lieutenant : and, 
 being in company with an American man-of-war, 
 he held forth at length on the subject of modem 
 degeneracy and the good old days of " Masts and 
 Yards." But the United States officer, hstening, 
 gave no approval to his ideas; tapped him re- 
 provingly on the shoulder, and cut short the argu- 
 ment with the remark, " Young feller, I guess 
 you* re too young to grow barnacles ! " 
 
 36 
 
IX, An Old-Time Captain 
 
 AS a ledger-keeper, James Quill, Chief Writer, 
 was irreproachably perfect ; his accuracy 
 could always be relied on, his figures were 
 faultlessly neat. Under stress of work, as, for in- 
 stance, towards the end of the quarter, he was the 
 one man who could be trusted to remain working 
 in the ship's office till three in the morning, if neces- 
 sary, without complaint and without diminishing in 
 the slightest degree the general excellence of his 
 work. He was steady and industrious ; every month 
 he used to allot £8 to his wife, and he never wanted 
 to go ashore . Leave for chief petty officers might be 
 piped every day, but James Quill was not amongst 
 those who would touch a respectful forelock and 
 ask to be allowed to set foot upon the land. With 
 one chronic exception. A strict teetotaller at 
 other times, he would land regularly once in every 
 three months and get quietly drunk, all by himself, 
 returning to the ship in that problematical con- 
 dition which causes a worried officer-of -the -watch 
 to look hard at a man coming up over the gang- 
 way, and, seeing that he is able to hold himself 
 straight and walk quietly away to his mess, decide 
 to say nothing about it this time. Next morning, 
 
 97 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 James Quill would be punctually at his work, as 
 exact and painstaking as ever, the prop and main- 
 stay of the office, quiet and unobtrusive, seldom 
 speaking to anyone except to warn the Third 
 Writer against the evils of drink, until the time 
 came round for him to indulge in his private orgy 
 once more. 
 
 It was after one of these outbreaks that he 
 unbosomed himself to me. He seemed to be 
 in a mood at once penitential and reminiscent. 
 *' Ah, Sir," he said, " I was not always like 
 this ! " 
 
 " No ? *' I replied, waiting for further confidences 
 to follow. 
 
 " No, Sir ; I was in a very different position to 
 what I am now. I was a captain, once." 
 
 Now that I came to think of it, I had often heard 
 people address him as Captain ; but nicknames are 
 so frequent on the lower-deck, and their origin 
 often so abstruse and involved that they come to 
 be accepted without inquiry. But on his making 
 mention of it himself, I immediately formed a 
 mental picture of James Quill in earlier days 
 wearing a red jersey, and, perhaps, playing a 
 comet. 
 
 "In the Salvation Army, I suppose?" said I; 
 though I knew him to be at present a staunch 
 Wesleyan. 
 
 " No, Sir. Not that sort of captain. I was a 
 proper captain — captain of a battleship." 
 
 " Indeed ! " I began to wonder whether the Chief 
 
 33 
 
An Old-Time Captain 
 
 Writer was still "under the influence," or whether 
 his brain was becoming affected. But I noticed 
 his companions quietly smiling to themselves 
 as if they had heard him say this sort of thing 
 before. 
 
 " Yes, Sir, I commanded the old Penelope once 
 upon a time." 
 
 I remembered the old Penelope, at a time when 
 she had reached her latter days and was swing- 
 ing to a buoy in Simon's Bay; a fine ship in 
 her time; she took part in the bombardment of 
 Alexandria. 
 
 " But, Quill, you weren't in the Service in the 
 'eighties ? " I queried. 
 
 " Oh, bless you, Sir," he answered, " I weren't 
 allooding to that Penelope ! I was cap'n of the 
 Penelope in Nelson's fleet — a fine, oak-built, three- 
 masted Une-o' -battle ship. It was in a preevious 
 existence, you must understand ! An' that's what 
 reconciles me to be a-sittin' here on a high stool 
 adding up figures at the beck an' call of every 
 young 'arf-fledged assistant-clurk — I casts back 
 me mind to the days when I used to walk the 
 quarter-deck in white silk knee-breeches, a-cursin' 
 and a-swearin' at all the orficers and living like a 
 lord in me own cuddy aft." 
 
 I understood. His was not by any means a 
 singular case. Either he had got hold of some 
 crank theosophical book, or — well, you never know 
 how these fancies arise, and the Navy is a fine soil 
 for the culture of freak ideas ; does not Marryat 
 
 89 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 record a similar case in his Gunner who beHeved 
 in a recurring cycle of sixty-odd thousand years ? 
 
 " Ah ! " went on the Chief Writer, " those were 
 the days ! We used to have a sea-fight about once 
 a week, then ! None of your hanging about watch- 
 ing for an enemy what wouldn't show himself in 
 those times ! Why, I myself have sunk so many 
 as three ships in a week ! Nelson, he often used 
 to say to me, ' Beauchamp,' says he '* 
 
 " Then you were not called Quill in that exis- 
 tence ? *' I put in. 
 
 " No, Sir, I was Captain the Honourable Lord 
 Visscount Beauchamp. ' Look 'ere,' says Nelson ; 
 * Beauchamp, me boy, you knows them three 
 Frenchy frigates a-lying doggo inside Quiberon 
 Bay? Well, I wants 'em cut out, and there's 
 nobody I can trust to do it but you — a pack of 
 silly, idle, good-for-nothin,' useless sons of Ham 
 those other skippers are ' " 
 
 " But I thought," I interjected, " that Nelson 
 had the highest opinion of all his captains ? Didn't 
 he call them ' a band of brothers ' ? " 
 
 " Ah, he 'ad to say things like that for the out- 
 side public ! But you should ha' heard him slinging 
 off at 'em to me ! Why, just before the battle 
 o' Cape St. Vincent " 
 
 " But, surely, that was Rodney's engagement, 
 not Nelson's, wasn't it ? " 
 
 " Ah, that's what the 'istory-books tell you — 
 pack o' lies, for the most part, they are I Well, 
 as I was tellin' you, Sir *^ 
 
 40 
 
An Old-Time Captain 
 
 *' Quill ! '* resounded piercingly from the adjoin- 
 ing oftice, where the Fleet -Paymaster was working. 
 
 The ex-Captain gathered up a sheaf of papers and 
 made for the door. " But I was not always like 
 this, Sir," he remarked plaintively as he departed. 
 " I was a captain once, a proper captain 1 " 
 
 41 
 
X, White and Gold 
 
 EXECUTIVE officers of a type happily very 
 rare have been known to remark before 
 now, " Let me get to a small ship, where 
 there isn't so much red, white, and blue ! " This 
 cryptic utterance does not refer, as you might 
 imagine, to the Union Jack or the Wliite Ensign, 
 but to the colours between the gold stripes on 
 the sleeves of non-executive officers ; red for the 
 doctor's branch, blue for naval instructors, and 
 white for paymasters. 
 
 Now, a young lieutenant in full bodily health 
 and crammed full of knowledge might conceivably 
 rub along quite well in the absence of both doctor 
 and naval instructor, but I would defy him, or 
 anybody else on board ship, to exist for a single 
 day without the assistance of the Accountant 
 Branch. " The Accountant Officer " is the official 
 title for the incarnate Providence who wears the 
 white stripes between his gold lace ; but we always 
 know him by the affectionate title of " Pay " ; 
 in more familiar mood we occasionally address 
 him as " Pusser," which of course, means purser, 
 the old title by which he was officially designated 
 in former days. He ranges from the embryo stage 
 
 42 
 
White and Gold 
 
 of Assistant-Clerk, though the grades of Clerk, 
 Assistant -Paymaster, Paymaster, Staff-Paymaster, 
 and Fleet-Paymaster, to the exalted rank of Pay- 
 master-in -Chief, a height reached by very few 
 indeed, at which final stage he wears four stripes 
 on his arm and possibly a C.B. on his chest. But 
 in each and all of these steps he is always the same 
 genial and indispensable Friend of All the World, 
 the mainstay of everyone in the ship from the 
 Captain downwards. 
 
 If payment were in proportion to merit, the 
 Accountant Officer ought to be given the free run 
 of his own money-chest; as it is, however, he 
 starts his career on a wage that a London errand- 
 boy would turn up his nose at, and continues in 
 much the same state for several years, only reaching 
 a competence when the illusions of youth are no 
 longer worth paying good money for to have the 
 fun of proving them illusory. 
 
 To classify the Accountant Branch scientifically, 
 Paymasters may be divided into two main genera 
 — Secretary Birds and Soap-and-baccy Paymasters. 
 The latter may again be subdivided into two species 
 — Cash and Vittles. 
 
 Many a Flag-Officer remembers gratefully the 
 wise guidance and help of his Secretary in difficult 
 situations again and again ; and, if he is wise, 
 having once found a good Secretary, he will stick 
 to him until one or the other retires from the 
 Service. 
 
 The Soap-and-Baccy Pusser, whether his work 
 
 43 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 is confined to that of Victualling Paymaster 
 (" Vittles "), or whether he is Borne for Accountant 
 Duties ("Cash"), or whether, as is most usually 
 the case in an ordinary ship, he combines the two 
 officers in one person, is an infallible guide on all 
 Service matters. He knows the King's Regula- 
 tions and Admiralty Instructions almost by heart ; 
 and, what is more, can find his way with unerring 
 accuracy about the Regulations themselves and 
 the Appendix as well; an accomplishment which 
 leaves the mere Bradshaw-expert quite in the 
 shade, since to the unlearned the main function of 
 the Regulations seems to be to make you " See 
 Appendix," while the Appendix keeps the joke 
 up by telling you to " See Regulations." 
 
 It is not alone in Service matters that Pay is a 
 wise counsellor; years of unravelHng tangled 
 problems have made him a man of sound judgment, 
 whose advice on all other affairs is always worth 
 asking and generally worth following. He is 
 everybody's confidant; at one time or another 
 every one of his messmates is pretty certain to 
 buttonhole the Pay with the request, " Look here, 
 old man, I wish you would give me your opinion 
 about this ; I'm dashed if / know what I ought to 
 do ! " And the Pay will weigh the matter in 
 question very deliberately ; he is not a man to make 
 any hurried pronouncements. Often he will come 
 out with some probing interrogatory that lays 
 bare the whole difficulty; then, after further 
 thought, he is ready with his suggestion, put very 
 
 44 
 
White and Gold 
 
 modestly — and you can be fairly sure that it is 
 just the right suggestion needed. 
 
 At the beginning of each month the Paymaster 
 has a very pleasing function to perform, one which 
 meets with such general approbation that it might 
 with advantage be repeated much more frequently; 
 he hands each officer a little envelope on which are 
 printed the words " Pay or Wages,'* a duplicate 
 phrase which is far from being as meaningless as 
 that wonderful string of such phrases in the General 
 Confession, since it safeguards the Admiralty 
 against the complaints of any who do not think 
 they are being sufficiently remunerated for their 
 services. " All right," says the Admiralty ; " don't 
 call it Pay, if you feel like that ; just pretend you 
 are one of the homy-handed, and call it Wages ; 
 considered as Wages, it's a thumping big amount, 
 isn't it ? " 
 
 Well, whatever it is, the Paymaster works it 
 out for you, and for the whole of the Ship's 
 Company as well, and gives it to you with that 
 punctuality and urbanity that characterise all his 
 actions. 
 
 I hope our own Paymaster will see this last 
 sentence, because I shall probably be coming to 
 him for an Advance before the month is finished. 
 
 45 
 
XI. The Decoders Middle Watch 
 
 UP on the bridge it was dark — dark as a 
 wolf's throat, and cold — bitterly cold. 
 The wind was freshening, and every now 
 and again broke into short squalls with driving sleet. 
 A quarterly sea tended to start the ship yawing, and 
 the lieutenant of the middle watch spoke winged 
 words down the voice-pipe to the young able 
 seaman at the wheel, bidding him keep her steady 
 on her course. Then he looked up again to peer 
 ahead into the darkness, endeavouring with prac- 
 tised eye to make out the white glint of the wake 
 of the next ahead ; station-keeping with all lights 
 out on a dark night is no joke. 
 
 Suddenly he drew a sharp breath and bent 
 quickly to the voice -pipe again. A landsman 
 might have looked for an hour and distinguished 
 nothing in the thick darkness of the night; but 
 the watch-keeper saw that he was almost on top 
 of the next ahead; he snapped out the order 
 "Port twenty -five ; one four knots " ; and as the 
 great ship swung aside out of her course and slowed 
 gradually he muttered softly, " What a dog's life 
 it is ! Why didn't I join a branch where I could 
 sleep comfortably in my 'ammick every night ? " 
 
 46 
 
The Decoder s Middle Watch 
 
 Down below, in an office brilliant with electric 
 light and white enamel, in an atmosphere composed 
 of equal parts of stale tobacco-smoke and the 
 exhaust from the engine -room, the Decoding 
 Officer sat at his desk, with a small pile of finished 
 signals in front of him. He looked at the rusty- 
 Bee clock which a former sharer of his labours 
 had bequeathed to the Decoding Office ; it was a 
 quarter-past one. With an effort to keep his 
 heavy eyelids open, he took up the remaining 
 signals and began to deal with them. There was 
 a cypher of eighty-seven hoists from the Senior 
 Naval Officer at Troy Town, and a code message 
 from a ship of the Eleventh Battle Squadron. 
 
 " All day long have I been flogging at this 
 blessed tosh," he grumbled to himself, " and now 
 it looks as if I'm going to make a night of it as 
 well 1 " 
 
 Nearly an hour later he packed his books away 
 with a sigh of relief, no fresh signals having been 
 brought to him in the interval. Going across to 
 the Wireless office, he asked, just to make sure, if 
 there was anything waiting. 
 
 " Only these two, sir," said the operator. 
 
 The Decoding Officer inspected them. " The 
 two Back-Chat Comedians," he remarked ; " they 
 can wait for a bit. I'm going to turn in for a bit 
 now." 
 
 He went back to his office and tried the steel 
 safe and the drawers, to see if he really had locked 
 them ; and, having found them all secure, ducked 
 
 47 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 beneath the rows of hammocks and made his way 
 to his cabin, where he was quickly in his bunk. 
 
 But sleep would not come. The pillow was 
 hot and the blanket would come and tickle his 
 face. He turned and tossed, and presently sat 
 up and said half-aloud, " Now, did I try that steel 
 chest before I left?" 
 
 His forehead wrinkled as he tried hard to re- 
 member, and then, " Yes, of course I did," he 
 said. " What an ass I am ! " as he lay down 
 again. 
 
 "I'm not so sure about it, though," was his 
 reflection, five minutes later. 
 
 " Better get out and see, if you're not sure," 
 spoke Common-Sense. " It's infernally cold to 
 get out again," answered Creature -Comfort ; 
 " besides, I am sure, and I want to go to sleep." 
 
 " You're not sure, and you'll never go to sleep 
 till you have been to look," said Common-Sense; 
 and, after arguing the point for five minutes more, 
 the Decoding Officer sprang from his bunk with 
 a censored exclamation, and padded with bare 
 feet across the cold corticene to the office; where 
 a vicious tug at the handles of boxes and drawers 
 proved that Creature -Comfort had been in the 
 right after all. 
 
 Once more he went back to his bunk, switched 
 off the light, and at once fell asleep. 
 
 After a while he was aroused again. A signal 
 was put into his hand. " I don't know this code 
 at all," said he, rubbing his eyes. " ' Clearsoup ' ? 
 
 48 
 
The Decoder's Middle Watch 
 
 What on earth can that be ? Oh, yes, I know I 
 Of course, that's from the cuHnary code ; how 
 stupid of me not to have recognised it at once ! '* 
 
 Over to the office again. Once more he un- 
 locked a drawer and dragged out the heavy 
 CuHnary Code, turning over its pages rapidly till 
 he found the word Clearsoup, 
 
 *' Proceed with the utmost despatch to bombard 
 Berlin,'' ran the translation. The Decoding Officer 
 wrote this on a signal pad and took it to the 
 Captain. Then he took another glance at the 
 word in the Code -Book, and saw printed under- 
 neath it an instruction which had previously 
 escaped his notice : " This must on no account be 
 confused with the word Clearhoup." The sweat 
 broke out on his forehead ; an S is so much like 
 an H in Morse ; he might have made a mistake I 
 But the trouble was that there was no such word 
 as Clearhoup in the Code. " It doesn't sound like 
 a Culinary word," he mused ; and at that instant 
 turned to a set of pages which he did not remember 
 having ever seen before ; at the head of the first 
 page was the very word he was looking for ! 
 " For the meaning of Clearhoup," the book said, 
 " see secret envelope A.19." The Decoding Officer 
 seized this and tore it open, only to find another 
 sealed package inside it ! This one revealed yet 
 a third, and presently he was up to his knees 
 in torn-open envelopes, still seeking the meaning 
 of Clearhoup." At last the innermost envelope 
 revealed a tiny brass key and a slip of instruc- 
 E 49 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 tions, which said, " The starboard chronometer- 
 case in the Wardroom wine -locker is adjustable 
 for hypothecated instances " — which cleared up 
 the whole situation at once. He walked along at 
 once to the Wardroom, where he was met by the 
 watch -keeper, who had that moment come down 
 from the bridge. 
 
 " Hello, old chap," said the latter ; " I'm dashed 
 if you don't look as if you were walking in your 
 sleep ! " 
 
 " Course I'm not, you silly ass," replied the 
 other indignantly — " at least, come to think of it, 
 d'you know, I believe I must have been ? " 
 
 " Well, have a drop of hot cocoa, anyway," 
 said the watch-keeper; "I told them to have 
 some ready; nothing like it for sending you to 
 sleep properly. Do you know, it's after four? 
 By Jove, I wish I could have a quiet night like 
 you fellows ! " 
 
 " Ah, well," said the Decoding Officer, sipping 
 his hot cocoa, " we've all — we've all — we've all 
 got trub-t rub-troubles of our own I " 
 
 50 
 
XII. Smuggling 
 
 A GOOD deal of adventurous smuggling was 
 done by men of the King's Navy in the 
 good old days, and a certain amount of 
 a very minor and tame description is carried on 
 still ; I have done a bit of it myself. 
 
 On the last occasion when I brought home 
 dutiable goods from abroad, my conscience, like a 
 silly idiot, waited till the very last moment to tell 
 me that I really ought to make a full and honest 
 declaration of all the goods I proposed to land. 
 What was the consequence ? My box was de- 
 tained at the Custom House, I was obliged to go 
 to the other end of the town and pay a special 
 visit to the Head Panjandrum of Customs, and 
 they claimed full duty on practically everything 1 
 Moral : Well, no ; perhaps I had better get on 
 with my main subject. Which deals with the 
 smuggling experiences, not of myself, but of a 
 messmate. 
 
 When I tell you that this officer is no less a 
 person than the one who witnessed the terrible 
 adventure of the Great Orca, you will be readily 
 prepared to believe that even in the less exciting 
 episodes of a smuggler's career his personal expe- 
 
 51 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 riences were by no means of a common order; 
 and, mind you, they are all Absolutely True 1 
 
 It is better to let him recount his adventures in 
 his own words. 
 
 " Smuggling ? Oh, yes ; I did a lot of smuggling 
 in my old merchant -service days 1 Made money 
 out of it, too ! I should have been a rich man 
 to-day, if I hadn't lost the whole lot on a foolish 
 bet." 
 
 " What sort of a bet ? *' 
 
 " Why, I laid all the money I had made by 
 smuggling — ^it came to just seventeen thousand 
 pounds — ^against the second mate's half-a-crown 
 that I could take soundings with the lead in 
 twelve fathoms with the ship going at fourteen 
 knots." 
 
 *' Do you honestly and actually mean to tell us 
 that you could do such a thing ? " 
 
 " Why, sure ! I've done it many a time ! 
 Never used my hands to cast the lead, either; 
 I always used to hold the line in my teeth and 
 swing it round with my head. But — ^well, any- 
 how, this particular time I failed, just when I 
 wanted to do it, and, as I said, it cost me twenty- 
 three thousand pounds 1 " 
 
 " What you said was seventeen thousand ; but, 
 never mind, go on; how did you manage to 
 bungle it?" 
 
 " I just missed picking up soundings ; but it 
 was not till about six months later I found out 
 that the engine-room indicator was wrong, and 
 52 
 
Smuggling 
 
 when I thought we were going seventeen knots we 
 were actually doing seventeen and a quarter 1 ** 
 
 " Hard lines I But what about the smuggling ? '* 
 
 " Well, my greatest time was when I was in 
 the old Soona, running to the Cape. My line was 
 diamonds — I.D.B., you know. Really, I ran no 
 risks at all, thanks to my little pet canary.'* 
 
 " Your canary? " 
 
 " Yes. You see, I had often noticed the ostriches 
 swallowing pebbles, and I thought to myself, if 
 an ostrich can swallow a pebble, a canary-bird 
 can swallow a little diamond ! So I invested in 
 a canary and a cage, and many's the trip I made 
 from the Cape to England with the dear little bird 
 simply chock-a-block with diamonds I But I was 
 done in, at last." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Why, just through my own silly greediness. 
 Instead of being content v^th small profits and 
 quick returns — ^the returns, by the way, were got 
 with the aid of an emetic — I must needs invest 
 all my savings in one big stone. I simply had to 
 force it down the poor bird's throat, it was so 
 enormous 1 A week later the canary died 1 " 
 
 " Well, couldn't you open the body? " 
 
 " I didn't know it was dead till the idiot of a 
 steward brought it up to me on the bridge. ' Your 
 canary's dead, sir,' he says — and with that he 
 chucks it overboard ! I dived after it at once, 
 but it was no good ; the weight of the diamond 
 had taken it down immediately I '* 
 
 58 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 " That was bad luck 1 And I suppose that was 
 what made you give up smuggling? " 
 
 " No, I didn't quit it then ! It was— well, I'll 
 tell you. It happened a few years later, when I 
 was on a different run, in a ship named the Angos- 
 tura, I had bought three thousand cigars in 
 India, and when we got to Antwerp I got another 
 three thousand. And when we reached Middles- 
 brough I simply hadn't the ghost of an idea how 
 to land them. Because, you see, they search the 
 ship pretty thoroughly at that place. No good 
 putting things inside settee cushions or behind the 
 engine -casings, or any simple old-time dodges of 
 that sort 1 About sixteen of the Customs' people 
 come on board and make a thorough search, and 
 they don't leave anything to chance, either ! 
 
 " All at once I thought of a plan. You know, 
 in most merchant ships the fresh-water tank is 
 right underneath the steering-engine, just before 
 number three hold. Well, I placed all my cigars 
 in a tin box, strapped them on top of a lifebelt, 
 and floated the whole concern in this tank. 
 
 " The Customs' men searched the ship high and 
 low, and were just going to leave, and I thought 
 I was all right. But as they were making for the 
 gangway I heard one of them say, ' We might as 
 well have a look at the fresh-water tank before 
 we go.' 
 
 " Luckily, I overheard him ! I just had time 
 to nip down and get into the tank ! There was 
 about five foot of water in it. As soon as I heard 
 
 54 
 
Smuggling 
 
 their footsteps I took a deep breath and plunged 
 beneath the water, sitting firmly on the cigars and 
 keeping them down to the bottom of the tank. 
 
 " I could hear the voices of the Customs' men 
 as they looked into the tank. Of course, they 
 could see nothing in that semi -darkness — ^nothing 
 of me, I mean. But, to my horror, they did not 
 go away ! They started an argument about Home 
 Rule — I've been dead against all forms of politics 
 ever since — and, I give you my word, it was 
 eleven minutes by my watch before they went away 
 and I was able to come up and breathe ! That's 
 what finally put me off smuggling I ** 
 
 55 
 
XIII, Heard Melodies 
 
 A SHIP is not a quiet place. People whose 
 nerves are easily set a-jangling would do 
 well to seek their necessary peace other- 
 where than in a man -o' -war, where the heard 
 melodies are varied and well-nigh incessant and 
 most of them by no means sweet. 
 
 At sea one naturally would scarcely expect to 
 find quietness ; to the noise of the waves and the 
 raging of the tempest is added the monotonous 
 clank of the engines — at least, in the older ships 
 fitted with machinery of the pull-and-push order; 
 the engines of a modem turbine -driven ship being 
 practically silent in their action. Everyone who 
 has made a voyage in a liner and has been unfor- 
 tunate enough to be located in a cabin within 
 hearing of the engines knows how maddening it 
 is to listen to that iterated four-note melody 
 which will insist upon fitting itself to some per- 
 fectly imbecile words ; not the worst of the torture 
 is that the melody is always an allegro passage, 
 consequently inducing that feeling which makes 
 you want to throw a boot at the head of a person 
 who is always cheerful ! 
 
 In harbour, however, it would seem reasonable 
 
 56 
 
Heard Melodies 
 
 to expect freedom from noise. The very idea of 
 a Haven connotes peaceful quiet and the lulling 
 of troublous sounds. But if you think that this 
 applies to a ship of war, I can only tell you that 
 you have another guess. 
 
 One of those difficult sentences which you have 
 to say quickly six times runs : " The sea ceases 
 and it suffices us " ; now, if the sea— or the voice 
 of it — did cease in harbour, it might suffice us ; 
 but then, it doesn't 1 Supposing you have a 
 cabin next to the ship's side, and there is a bit 
 of a swell running : every few seconds a wave 
 rolls along, swishing up the torpedo -boom outside 
 in a loud treble run which ends in a crashing 
 bass chord as the heel of the boom bangs against 
 the armour with a " wump " that shakes every- 
 thing in the cabin. 
 
 That, however, is nothing; most of the time 
 you are in your cabin you sleep through it, and 
 in the morning it helps you to wake up. But 
 there are still many other harbour melodies ; the 
 greater part of them being provided by various 
 wind and percussion instruments connected with 
 the machinery of the ship. For although the 
 main engines are still, there remain about two 
 hundred auxiliary machines which are kept 
 constantly at work. 
 
 Everywhere, for instance, can be heard the 
 musical hum of the many electric motor fans. 
 There is one which purrs away close to my head 
 during Church; but as it purrs on G, I find it 
 
 67 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 quite useful as an aid in reciting the Service. 
 These fans stop only on coal-ship days, when 
 their silence is heard with quite distressing force. 
 
 Other machines combine to form a regular Toy 
 Symphony. There is a pump which ticks in 
 perfect imitation of a grandfather's clock; several 
 kinds of bird-calls ; a boat-hoist which gives a 
 very perfect rendering of a saw-mill in action; 
 another pump which imitates the castanets ; while 
 the hydraulic machinery of the turrets resembles 
 nothing so much as an elephant trying to break 
 loose from his cage. 
 
 Besides machinery, manual labour is responsible 
 for much of a ship's melody. There is a Concerted 
 Piece known as Chipping Boiler Tubes, which is 
 part of the Harbour programme ; it is really a 
 combination of the Harmonious Blacksmith with 
 the Brain-fever Bird ; it starts at six in the morn- 
 ing and goes on till eleven at night, blending not 
 infrequently with the Kaffir Piano display per- 
 formed by the men who break up boxes for the 
 engine-room fires, and the Indian Tom-Toms of 
 the carpenter's party heaving chunks of timber 
 about, apparently just for the fun of the thing. 
 A sub-bass is provided by the dull boom of casks 
 and boxes being dumped on the deck from the 
 store-ship, and the vocal parts are supplied by 
 call-boys, by officers giving orders or shouting for 
 sentries and messengers, by — in short, by every- 
 body, and usually all at once. Nor are the lesser 
 musical adjuncts wanting; bugle-calls sound off, 
 
 58 
 
Heard Melodies 
 
 roughly at two -minute intervals, and the shrill 
 pipe of the boatswain's -mates mingles with the 
 sonorous chime of the ship's bell. 
 
 I have lately been looking through some books 
 on harmony, and I find that the one great salient 
 fact in the theory of music which all the books 
 are most fearfully keen on impressing upon you 
 is that a Sonata may be in either the Binary or 
 the Ternary form, and if it isn't in one of these 
 it is no longer a Sonata but something else. 
 
 Which seems much akin to saying that an 
 omelette can be made with either two eggs or 
 three, and if you use more it becomes scrambled 
 eggs. 
 
 But, I wonder, in what category must be placed 
 the concord of sweet sounds produced by our 
 ship-music ? It isn't a Prelude — and I can assure 
 you it isn't an Interlude 1 A Symphony, perhaps ? 
 Yet a Symphony seems to stand for something 
 pleasing to the ear; and I am inclined to think 
 that these particular melodies would be far sweeter 
 unheard 1 
 
 But I hope to get away from them soon, for a 
 few days, and go to where beyond these voices 
 there is peace. Ahsit omen — I only mean — on 
 leave I 
 
 59 
 
XIV, Sixteen Bells 
 
 INSTEAD of the customary Eight Bells struck 
 at the conclusion of every four-hour watch, 
 it is an unwritten law of the Navy that Six- 
 teen Bells should be struck at midnight on New 
 Year's Eve — eight to speed the Old Year out, and 
 eight to herald in the New. 
 
 Custom also dictates that the Quartermaster, 
 who usually performs the office of sounding the 
 hour, is on this occasion relieved of the duty, and 
 the privilege of solemnly ringing out the news of 
 the New Year's birth is given to the youngest 
 officer in the ship. 
 
 A doubtful privilege sometimes — ^at any rate in 
 these latitudes ; for a snug hammock or a cosy 
 gunroom possesses attractions at this time of 
 night and this season of the year which are hardly 
 balanced by the honour of going for'ard on deck 
 to where the bell hangs beneath the fore bridge ; 
 through pitchy darkness, with a reasonable chance 
 of barking shins against hatch-coamings, while 
 the cold wind drives a scurry of snow or hail 
 blinding and breath-taking. 
 
 But, after all, this is part of the day's work, or 
 of the night's work, every time a night watch is 
 
 60 
 
Sixteen Bells 
 
 kept in the winter ; once more will not make any 
 great difference ; and who would forego this annual 
 privilege for the sake of frowsting below and 
 keeping out of the cold ? 
 
 I do not know how many centuries old this 
 naval custom may be, but it is undoubtedly of 
 very ancient date. There is a certain passage in 
 the works of the Writing-Master that bears closely 
 upon this subject. It occurs at the beginning of 
 one of the chapters in Bombey and Son — I think 
 the thirteenth, but am not able to say for certain ; 
 as I deeply regret that there is not a single copy 
 of the book on board, all except three of Dickens's 
 works having been forcibly deported from their 
 rightful home in the Ship's Library — and yet we 
 have the effrontery to talk about Prussianism I 
 
 However, the general tenor of the passage 
 referred to is that : It is an ingenious speculation 
 of certain modem philosophers that no sound is 
 ever completely lost or dies away into entire 
 stillness ; but the waves of sound, once set in 
 motion, continue until the end of time, rever- 
 berating in concert with every fresh sound and 
 echoing around the world without cessation. 
 
 If there be any truth in such a theory, and if 
 our mortal ears could be attuned to catch these 
 finer waves, what a ringing o' bells should we 
 hear when our youngest midshipman seizes the 
 clapper at midnight on the thirty-first ! With 
 our Sixteen Bells there would chime in those of 
 the old Victory, sounded by some little middy of 
 
 61 
 
Grand Fleet Bays 
 
 Nelson's who long ago became an Admiral himself 
 and left an honoured record already becoming 
 hard to decipher upon his crumbling monument; 
 Drake's bell, ringing out sixteen merry notes just 
 before he proceeded to take San Domingo, would 
 join in ; soft from the heated airs rising from the 
 Hooghly would come the bells of Watson, whose 
 ships helped to take Calcutta at the New Year; 
 and, louder by another fifty years of recentness, 
 those of the ships that captured Cura9oa; and 
 louder still — so loud that in some living ears 
 their sound has not yet died — ^the unconscious 
 knell of the gallant Formidable that only two 
 years ago plunged to her grave in the Channel, 
 barely a couple of hours after her hopeful Sixteen 
 Bells had heralded the New Year's morning. 
 
 What a ghostly carillon it would all make ! 
 But the sad notes and the glad notes together 
 would all form parts of the same splendid theme : 
 that query propounded in song by Newbolt, Do 
 the battleships' bells ring clear enough To be heard 
 down below ? would be answered by a hearty 
 chorus from the ships' companies of rotting 
 galleons and sunken ironclads, and the voices of 
 long-forgotten ringers would blend with the voices 
 of long-silent bells in that paean which the British 
 Navy raises continually, and exists only to raise ; 
 the same paean as the Angels sang of old. Glory to 
 God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of 
 goodwill ! 
 
 There is another Ring of Bells — ^naval bells — 
 
 62 
 
Sixteen Bells 
 
 which I trust will be sounded in the New Year. 
 A few days ago a signalman came into our ante- 
 room where several officers were sitting, and put 
 a chit into Navvy's hand. 
 
 "What's that, Navvy?" we asked; "Press 
 News ? Read it out if it is ! " 
 
 Very obligingly he did read out : " The German 
 Chancellor announced in the Reichstag that Ger- 
 many with her Allies, conscious — (and so on) — 
 have proposed this morning to hostile Powers to 
 enter into Peace Negotiations." 
 
 Well, one officer said, " Nothin* doin' " ; and 
 another remarked " Rats " ; and the rest, who 
 had paused for a moment to listen, immediately 
 resumed their previous occupations and conversa- 
 tions. Which, I take it, is quite typical of the 
 attitude taken by Great Britain and her Allies 
 towards such idle talk; we shall proceed with 
 what we have taken in hand, and when Sixteen 
 Bells have brought in a New Year we shall get to 
 work with the Germans, and " Knock seven bells 
 out of them ! '* 
 
 68 
 
XV, Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 1. Seven-Bell Tea 
 
 A NUMBER of officers are seated at the 
 wardroom table, all wanting to be served 
 at once by a Royal Marine who has hardly 
 had his beauty-sleep, with the assistance of the 
 Maltese third steward, who would much rather 
 continue his study of La Vie, 
 
 Various Officers : Outside ! Outside ! Pantry I 
 I want some tea at once I It's gone seven bells ; 
 why isn't the tea down ? Waiter ! 
 
 The Royal Marine (outside, and fortunately not 
 overheard) : Gott strafe their little 'earts 1 'Ere's 
 all the wardroom officers 'owling like a pack of 
 'ungry wolves, an' nobody but me an' gallant little 
 Malta to look after 'em ! 'Ere, Joozepp, 'urry up 
 and get the 'ot water from the galley ! 
 
 The Paymaster : Well, I suppose I must start 
 on cake if there isn't any tea. Pass along the 
 Achi Baba, Guns, when you've finished digging 
 trenches in it, will you? 
 
 Guns (politely passing the cake) : Achi Baba, 
 forsooth ! I only wish I were anywhere near 
 there 1 I might have a chance of popping off a 
 
 64 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 gun then, instead of being lost in the mists of the 
 North Sea looking for what isn't there ! 
 
 The Young Doctor : Well, what more d'you 
 want? You can play about in your turrets all 
 day long, can't you? It's myself that has the 
 real grounds of complaint — hoping to get some 
 interesting amputations or good compound frac- 
 tures, and all I've had for the last week has been 
 a second-class stoker with a whitlow on his thumb I 
 Ah 1 here's the tea at last ! 
 
 Guns : Bloodthirsty little ruffian ! You don't 
 want tea ; what you want is a bowl of gore ! 
 
 The Young Doctor : Another word from you, 
 and I'll put the wine books on the table I 
 
 The Navigator: You people don't know when 
 you're well off. Don't you realise that it's the 
 navigating branch that is bearing all the brunt 
 of this war ? Where are you when I'm facing the 
 storm on the bridge at midnight, guarding your 
 safety? Why, tucked up in your flea-bags, with 
 your nasty little heads on your stuffy little 
 pillows 1 
 
 A Watchkeeper : Yes, and reckoning up how 
 much you can do the Admiralty in for pilotage ! 
 I wish I was a navigator and living a gentleman's 
 life. It's the watchkeeper has the real joy. Look 
 at me — got the middle to-night, and coal -ship at 
 daybreak, and lucky if I don't get a day on to 
 top up with ! 
 
 The P.M.O. : And very good for you, too. Help 
 to take down a Httle of your war fat. If you 
 V 65 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 don't stop eating that cake you'll burst your 
 Gieve's waistcoat in a minute. What your dear 
 kind parents will say when they see you is more 
 than I can tell. 
 
 A IVaichkeeper : Yes, when they see me. Pre- 
 cious little chance of that for a long time to come. 
 I'm beginning to feel like the young recruit on 
 his way out to India — d'you know the yam? He 
 was leaning over the rail at the stern of the trans- 
 port, feeling thoroughly homesick and wretched, 
 and wondering whether to chuck himself into the 
 ditch or not, when up comes the sergeant-major 
 and claps him on the shoulder and says, " I know 
 what you're thinking of. You're thinking of 'ome, 
 you are. You II never see 'ome no more I " 
 Cheering, wasn't it ? 
 
 The Major of Marines : Well, I could do with a 
 week-end myself. What I say is, let's have the 
 battle and get it over, and then we can all go on 
 leave. 
 
 An R.N.R. Assistant-Paymaster (lately joined 
 and quite serious -minded) : Do you think the 
 German fleet will come out or not ? 
 
 Our Youngest Lieutenant : Oh ! for eving's sake 
 don't let's have that old wheeze 1 If you want to 
 raise a gag, try something a little more interesting. 
 Who'll play deck-hockey after Quarters ? 
 
 The Young Doctor : Roller-skating or flat-foot ? 
 
 Our Youngest Lieutenant : Oh ! rollers. Dead- 
 off, flat-foot hockey; it's much too tame. Here, 
 waiter, is this fresh milk or condensed ? 
 
 66 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 The Royal Marine : Condensed, sir. (Aside) : 
 An' we eight days at sea 1 Does 'ee think I keep 
 a pet cow in me ditty-box? 
 
 The Chief (being somewhat slow of cerebration, 
 he is usually about four remarks astern in a con- 
 versation) : Well, / think they will come out. 
 And I'll tell you why. Look here : suppose this 
 bread-tray represents Wilhelmshaven, the edge of 
 the table being the English coast, and the flower- 
 vase Heligoland. My plate is the British Fleet. 
 Well, suppose our Fleet is steaming up here — (he 
 indicates the direction by a sweep of his left arm, 
 incidentally knocking a cup and saucer down on 
 the deck) — and their fleet goes in this direction — 
 (here his right arm comes into play) 
 
 His Right-hand Neighbour : Excuse me, chief, 
 but your hand is resting upon my bread and jam. 
 Of course, if you find it essential to your tactical 
 demonstration, I don't mind; but 
 
 The Chief: Oh! I'm sorry; I'm very sorry I 
 (Thoughtfully sucks his fingers and subsides.) 
 
 The P,M,0. : This tea isn't fit to drink. Can't 
 we get something a little better than this ? Who's 
 on the Mess Committee ? 
 
 A Lieutenant : Why, you are yourself ! I know, 
 because I voted for you. I consider it is entirely 
 due to my vote and interest that you now occupy 
 your proud position, and if you would care to 
 signify your gratitude in a substantial — ^that is to 
 say, a liquid — ^manner, why 
 
 The P,M.O, : If it's liquid you want, you can 
 
 67 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 have my share of this slop-wash; it'll probably 
 poison you. 
 
 The Lieutenant : I don't believe you really love 
 me, saying such crool things. 
 
 The R.N.R. Assistant-Paymaster (addressing him- 
 self into the void) ; When do you think the war 
 will end ? 
 
 The Major (groaning heavily) : He's at it again 1 
 Can't anybody stop him ? 
 
 The Chief (taking fresh encouragement and a 
 long breath) : Well, I have my own theory about 
 that. I reckon that the Germans are getting 
 killed off at the rate of 200,000 a month, and have 
 now about four million men left ; that gives them 
 exactly one year and eight months . But, of course, 
 now Bulgaria's in it, and if Roumania and Greece 
 also come in, to say nothing of America, which is 
 probably doing us more good by supplying us with 
 ammunition, of which ourselves and our Allies 
 will now be getting an ever-increasing amount, 
 whereas Germany cannot keep up her supply at 
 the present rate for very long, principally because, 
 although she may have an unlimited quantity of 
 iron and copper — ^for, of course, her yam about 
 being short of those was only a bluff to try and 
 deceive us — ^yet there are other materials quite 
 essential to the manufacture of explosives which 
 she cannot produce herself, and must get from 
 other countries, and pay for in hard cash, and that 
 can't go on for ever, because her gold reserve 
 
 The Young Doctor : Would you mind saying it 
 
 OS 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 all over again, chief? Tm afraid I don't quite 
 follow you? 
 
 (At this moment the call for quarters is sounded 
 off, and those officers who have not already finished 
 their tea arise from the table and hunt for theii 
 caps, leaving the Young Doctor to be buttonholed 
 by the Chief, who has taken his request seriously, 
 which serves him right !) 
 
 The Royal Marine (from the pantry) : Well, 
 that's over 1 'Ere, Joozepp, see if there's a drop 
 left in the teapot. 
 
 69 
 
2. Writing a Letter 
 
 SCENE, the wardroom; and the time being 
 about 2.30 p.m., every settee and armchair 
 is occupied by an officer wrapped in gentle 
 slumber. Stillness reigns, except for a noise 
 below, like a dockyard in full swing (chipping 
 boiler tubes), and a noise above Hke all the porters 
 of all the railway stations combined in one huge 
 luggage -juggling stunt (provisioning ship). Enter 
 Lieutenant Smith-Jones, with writing materials in 
 his hand. He sits down at the long table. 
 
 Lieut, S.-J. : At last I can snatch a few moments 
 to write a letter, though I'm hanged if I know 
 what to say, these days. Mustn't say the weather 
 is cold — it gives away the fact that the ship is 
 not cruising in the tropics. Well, here goes ! 
 (Writes) : " My dearest Bessiekins " — ^no, dash it 
 all, I can't let the censor see that ; must pitch it 
 a little milder — " My dearest Bessie " — still too 
 strong ; I should get ragged about it for a month ! 
 (Tears up the page, and several others to follow', 
 and finally settles down gloomily with " Dear 
 Elizabeth.") 
 
 Well, I'm away now; the thing is now to get 
 on with the washing. Let's see, what can I say 
 
 70 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 next? Poor little girl; she won't like this letter 
 a bit. That was a ripping day I spent with her 
 down at Guzzle last week ! Well, that'll do for a 
 start. (Writes) : "I shall never forget the day — 
 the day " (Enter a signalman.) 
 
 Signalman : Are you the officer of the day, 
 sir? 
 
 Lieut. S.-J. (still dreaming) : The day? Yes, of 
 course ; the day she promised to — eh ? What's 
 that? Who are you? What d'ye want? No, 
 I'm not officer of the day. Get to blazes out 
 of it! 
 
 Signalman : Aye, aye, sir. (Salutes and de- 
 parts, and, having closed the wardroom door 
 softly behind him, falls upon the neck of the 
 sentry outside, exclaiming, amidst happy laughter : 
 " Oh ! thish yer Love's Young Dream I Wot a 
 game it is, bow-wow ! ") 
 
 Lieut. S.-J. (continuing to write and reciting 
 the words half-aloud) : ** I shall never forget the 
 day " 
 
 The Assistant-Paymaster (from a settee where he 
 has been awake for the last couple of minutes) : 
 Well, you've said that twice now. What day is it 
 you're gassing about? 
 
 Lieut.. S.'J. (confused, and trying to put the 
 other off the scent) : Why, Der Tag, of course 1 
 I was thinking about the chances of a fleet action. 
 
 The A.- P. : How can you say you will never 
 forget the day, you silly ass, when the day hasn't 
 come off? 
 
 71 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Lieut S.-J, : Well, I shan't forget it, if it does 
 come off; that's what I mean. 
 
 The A. -P. : You may, for all you can tell. 
 You might lose your memory from shell-shock, 
 or you might very likely get killed. And if you 
 survived and lived to an extreme old age, you 
 would be almost bound to get a bit shaky about 
 • the details. So how can you say you will never 
 forget it ? 
 
 Lieut. S.-J. : Look here, who's writing this 
 letter — you or me ? Dry up, and go to sleep 
 again. 
 
 The A.-P. : All right ; don't get huffy about it. 
 I only wanted to help you. (Relapses into 
 slumber.) 
 
 Lieut. S.-J. : Thank goodness, he's gone to sleep 
 again. Now I can get along, perhaps, without 
 any more interruptions. " Dear little Bessie." 
 (He ruminates rhapsodically, gazing into space for 
 some five minutes.) I say, this won't do. I'm 
 not getting on with it at all. (Writes.) " I shall 
 never forget the day when you promised to be 
 mine for ever." 
 
 The A.-P. (waking up again) : I bet you it'll 
 all be over in six months ! 
 
 Lieut. S.-J. (indignantly) : I'm jolly certain it 
 won't. It'll go on as long as I live ! 
 
 The A.-P. : What, the war go on as long as you 
 live ? Well, all I can say is, I hope you won't live 
 very long in that case I 
 
 Lieut. S.-J. : Oh ! the war? 
 
 72 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 The A. -P. : Yes, of course, the war. What did 
 you think I was talking about ? 
 
 Lieut. S.-J. : Oh I I meant the war, too. Yes, 
 my opinion is that it will last for many, many 
 years 1 
 
 The A.-P, : ^Vhy, I heard you bet the Chief a 
 gin last night that peace would be signed next 
 Easter twelvemonths. 
 
 Lieut. S.-J. : Well, a fellow can change his 
 opinions, I suppose, can't he ? I wish you wouldn't 
 keep interrupting me. I'm writing a very impor- 
 tant letter — a business letter. 
 
 The A.- P. : Well, I'll go and see if the mail has 
 come. (Exit.) 
 
 Lieut. S.-J. (writes) : "I shall very probably be 
 having a few days' leave next month, and I pro- 
 pose we get married then. We needn't have any 
 fuss, and you don't want to bother about getting 
 any new clothes. Only next month ! " 
 
 (Enter the Third Writer, who demands) : Please, 
 sir, do you wish to remit this month ? 
 
 Lieut. S.-J. : This month ? No ; next month, I 
 said. 
 
 Third Writer : Beg pardon, sir ? 
 
 Lieut. S.-J. : Oh ! it's you, is it ? What is it you 
 want ? Don't come bothering me now ; I'm busy. 
 
 Third Writer : Very good, sir. (Exit.) 
 
 Lieut. S.-J. : Dash it ! I shall never get this 
 letter finished. 
 
 (Re-enter the A.-P., who throws a letter with 
 unerring aim) : One for you, Smith -Jones. 
 
 73 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Lieut. S.-J. (recognising " Dear Elizabeth's " 
 handwriting) : Ha 1 (This is pronounced with 
 involuntary ecstacy.) 
 
 The A,-P, : H'm I Another business letter, I 
 suppose i 
 
 74 
 
8. The Messman 
 
 SCENE : In harbour. Time : The very early 
 part of the month, being the only time when 
 anybody has any money. In this dialogue 
 the officers who take the various parts are simply 
 denoted by letters of the alphabet, as it doesn't 
 matter a blow who they are. Carry on, please. 
 
 A. : Messenger, go and ask the messman if he 
 will be good enough to come and speak to me. 
 
 The Messenger : Aye, aye, sir. (Exit.) 
 
 B, : That reminds me, I want to speak to the 
 messman, too. 
 
 C. ; So do I. 
 
 Z). ; Me, too. 
 
 E. : Well, you might as well try and speak 
 grammatically, even if you do. '* Me, too 1 " You 
 should say " I also," or 
 
 Z>. ; Are you asking for a thick ear ? (He pro- 
 ceeds to turn the card -table over on top of E., who 
 gleefully takes up the challenge, and prepares for 
 a very pleasant little scrap, which, to the regret 
 of both D. and E., is cut short by the arrival of 
 
 THE MESSMAN. 
 
 (This functionary is an important personage, 
 and so deserves a line all to himself. They call 
 
 75 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 him " Maitre d'H6tel " in the French Navy; he 
 gets called all sorts of things in ours. He is taste- 
 fully garbed in civilian clothes, much better ones 
 than you can afford, and owns a row of houses 
 out at Peverell — opposite the row belonging to 
 the Master-at-Arms. His face has the impassive 
 impenetrability — or the impenetrable impassive - 
 ness, if you prefer it that way — of a Chinese lawyer. 
 For the rest, there is nothing he doesn't know, and 
 nothing he won't do to oblige you.) 
 
 A. : Oh, I say, messman, are you going ashore 
 to-morrow morning? 
 
 The Messman : Yessir. 
 
 A, : Well, I want you to get a few things for 
 me. 
 
 The Messman : Yessir. 
 
 A, : I want a bath-sponge and a bee -clock, and 
 a packet of razor-blades, two boxes of cigars — 
 same as you got for me before — half-a-dozen dry 
 batteries to fit my pocket electric torch, a half- 
 cake of chromium green — Winsor and Newton's, 
 mind ; not the other sort. Oh, and while you're 
 about it you might see if you can get me a flat 
 sable brush, size 00, at the same place. And I 
 want you to take back my library-book — you'll 
 find it on the writing-table in my cabin, or else 
 on the bookshelf. It's a red-covered book called 
 The History of Polly Hopkins, or Matilda Snooks, 
 or some silly name like that ; and try and get one 
 of Compton Mackenzie's, or, if they're all out, 
 then any book of Victoria Cross's, but not one 
 
 76 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 that I've had already. Let me see, is there any- 
 thing else ? Oh, yes, a roll of films and a bottle 
 of tabloid quinol developer; and you might call 
 in at the Stores and see if they've got my camera 
 back yet. Got all that ? 
 
 The Messman : Yessir. 
 
 B. : Oh, and I say, messman, look here. You 
 know that what's -its -name of mine — at least, it 
 isn't mine, it belongs to old Thingummy — ^well, I 
 want you to take it round to that place — you 
 know where I mean — ^and get it — er — er — ^that is, 
 have a what -d'ye -call -it put on it. Tell 'em it's 
 no use putting a gadget on like they did before, 
 because that won't stand the — er — what -name. 
 But you can tell 'em all about the silly thing. 
 You know exactly what's wanted, don't you ? 
 
 The Messman : Yessir. 
 
 B, : And if they can't do it, take it to that 
 other place, down by — you know — ^just round the 
 comer from that shop. I forget what the name 
 is, but it's a what's -its -name shop, just about 
 three or four doors down, or it may be at the end 
 of the street. But don't leave it there without 
 finding out first if they keep those silly things that 
 you put on to a what -d'ye -call ; though, of course, 
 a thing-ma-jig might do, and you'd better get that 
 if you can't get the other thing. 
 
 The Messman : Yessir. 
 
 C. : There's something I want you to do for 
 me, messman, if you will. I left my motor-cycle 
 out at Stoke yesterday — ^got a bad puncture. 
 
 77 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 You'll probably be passing somewhere near there, 
 so will you see about getting it back for me ? I 
 must have it by to-morrow afternoon, so you'll 
 make sure of getting it, won't you ? 
 
 The Messman : Yessir. 
 
 D. ; And will you call in at that flower shop 
 in Fore Street and get those palms I ordered? 
 And I should like you to take them yourself, 
 so as to make certain they don't get knocked 
 about. I'll give you the address; it isn't very 
 far to go. 
 
 The Messman : Yessir. 
 
 A. : Wait a minute, messman; I meant to tell 
 you before, but I forgot. I've got a party of 
 people coming off to lunch to-morrow. Can't tell 
 you exactly how many there will be ; I've asked 
 fifteen, but possibly only about four will be able 
 to turn up. Anyhow, I want you to put on a 
 nice little lunch for them. 
 
 The Messman : Yessir. 
 
 A. : Get just what you like, so long as it's 
 something that they'll all eat ; but there must be 
 strawberries. Hang it all, strawberries are out of 
 season now, aren't they ? 
 
 The Messman : Yessir. 
 
 A, : Oh, well, you must try and get some any- 
 way. And see that the hot dishes are really hot 
 and properly cooked. That cook of ours has a 
 habit of doing things to a chip, or else serving 
 them half raw. We shall lunch at one o'clock, or, 
 if the train is late, we may not be able to sit down 
 
 78 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 much before half -past two. That'll be all right, 
 won't it ? 
 
 The Messman : Yessir. 
 
 (And he departs, impassively imperturbable. 
 All the commissions will be executed to the entire 
 satisfaction of A., B., C, and D.) 
 
 79 
 
4. The Mess Papers 
 
 A DREARY time in the "dog-watches." 
 Three officers, who have failed to find a 
 fourth to get a game of bridge, have re- 
 signed themselves mournfully to turning over the 
 pages of picture -papers nearly a week old. Other 
 officers are gleaning from equally obsolete dailies 
 the knowledge that there is no change on the 
 Western or any other front. 
 
 Lieut. Jones (throwing down an illustrated 
 weekly with a gesture that may be described as 
 "petulant"): I'm fed up with these picture - 
 papers — ^they're all exactly alike 1 I'm sure I've 
 seen this portrait of Lady MacKeckieye and 
 Tripehound a dozen times 1 And who wants to 
 see her, anyway? Pass me the Sketch or the 
 Mirror, somebody. 
 
 Lieut. Brown : The Sketch ? I saw it the day 
 I arrived, but have never caught sight of it since. 
 Some one has taken it to read in his cabin, I 
 expect. It oughtn't to be allowed. I'm all 
 against mess papers being taken to officers' cabins. 
 
 Lieut. Robinson : More likely it's disappeared on 
 the mess -deck. That's where most of our papers 
 go, I'm convinced. 
 
 80 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 Lieut. Smith : What's that paper you're sitting 
 on, Brown? Isn't that the Sketch"^ 
 
 Lieut. Brown : H'm, so it is. Now I wonder 
 who put that there ? 
 
 Lieut. Jones : Well, anyhow, I think we ought 
 to get some more papers. We don't get half 
 enough light literature. What's the good of all 
 those stodgy quarterlies, etc., we take in ? Nobody 
 wants to read those in a time like this ; we want 
 something to amuse us. 
 
 The Staff-Surgeon : Well, I Hke that kind, and 
 only wish we had more of them. I propose we 
 do away with some of the papers and take a few 
 quarterly reviews instead. 
 
 Lieuts. Brown, Jones, Smith, and Rohinson : No, 
 no ; dead off ! 
 
 The Senior Eng.-Lieut. : I agree with you, 
 doctor. What these fellows want is Comic Cuts 
 and Snappy Bits. We've got quite enough light 
 literature in the mess already; what we want is 
 something more of the serious kind. 
 
 Lieut. Jones : Quite right. I want The Motor- 
 Bicycle taken in. 
 
 Lieut. Brown : Yes ; and the Amateur Photo- 
 grapher for me. 
 
 Lieut. Smith (who doesn't care tuppence about 
 the question, but scents a mirthful rag, which, by 
 the way, is the attitude really of all the others, 
 though you wouldn't think so to listen to them) : 
 And I should like the mess to take in The Poultry 
 World, The War Cry, The Tailor and Cutter, and 
 G 81 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Little Folks. All those papers appeal to me. I've 
 got an aunt who keeps fowls ; our cook at home 
 belongs to the Salvation Army; I owe for two 
 suits of plain clothes ; and I just dote on little 
 children, bless their hearts ! 
 
 The Staff-Surgeon : Oh, dry up I Seriously, 
 there is no reason why we shouldn't get a few 
 more papers ; then everybody could have what 
 he likes to read, and nobody would have a growl. 
 Take the Western Independent, for instance. It is 
 always in demand, and a few more copies would 
 prevent friction. 
 
 {General Chorus : Hear, hear.) 
 
 The Chaplain : Wouldn't it be as well to see 
 how the paper fund stands ? What do we pay 
 now? 
 
 The Fleet-Paymaster : Four shillings a month, 
 each member. 
 
 The Young Surgeon : Four shillings ! Why, in 
 my last ship we only paid half-a-crown. I propose 
 we reduce the subscription. 
 
 The Eng.-Lieut. (quite irrelevantly, but he hasn't 
 been listening) : Why don't we take in Land and 
 Water? There are awfully good articles about 
 the war in it. Will anybody support me in the 
 proposal to take in Land and Water ? 
 
 The Marine Subaltern (out for blood) : Why 
 should I pay any paper subscription at all ? I 
 don't want to read the papers. It's only con- 
 scription in another form, and I for one object to 
 it. I'm not going to pay the subscription any more. 
 
 82 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 Lieut, Smith : Oh 1 all right. Only I'll take 
 jolly good care you don't ever look at a mess 
 paper. 
 
 The Fleet-Paymaster : Of course, no one is 
 obliged to pay if he wishes not to. 
 
 Several Officers : Let him stand out if he wants 
 to. We'll divide up his share between us. 
 
 The Fleet- Paymaster (making a rapid calcula- 
 tion) : In that case the others will have to pay 
 four - and - threepence - halfpenny each. Do you 
 really wish to stop your paper subscription, young 
 soldier. 
 
 The Marine Subaltern : Certainly not, Pay ! 
 Wouldn't dream of doing such a thing ! I only 
 wanted to raise a bit of a rag — ^this discussion 
 seemed to be getting a bit too dull. 
 
 The Fleet- Paymaster : Well, has anyone got 
 any real suggestions to make now we're on the 
 subject ? I'm writing to the newsagent people 
 this week, so if there's any revision to be made, 
 now is the time to make it, before we start the 
 next quarter. 
 
 Lieut. Smith : Yes, let's do away with the 
 Daily Wail. 
 
 Lieut. Jones : Yes, let's have a bonfire now. I 
 don't suppose it'll bum the corticene. Gk> and get 
 a bundle of old Wails, somebody. 
 
 The Fleet-Paymaster : Naked lights and wax 
 matches are not allowed on board ship. Has any- 
 body else got any suggestion to make ? 
 
 (Dead silence intervenes.) 
 
 88 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 The Fleet-Paymaster : Then I suppose we just 
 go on as we are ? I'll send in the same list of 
 papers for next quarter. Does every one agree to 
 that? 
 
 The Marine Subaltern : Carried nem. con, 
 
 V • • • • • 
 
 The Commander (entering the mess) : I say, 
 what about having a mess meeting on the subject 
 of the papers? Isn't it time we made a few 
 changes ? 
 
 84 
 
5. The Gramophone 
 
 TEN o'clock, on a wet evening. Most of the 
 officers are sitting in stony silence, and the 
 rain is leaking through the skylight. Even 
 the wine steward feels that the Russian Kromeskies 
 and Scotch woodcock at dinner have not been a 
 success, and the general gloom is reflected in his 
 face. 
 
 Lieut. Merry (who wishes to ginger things up a 
 little) : What ho ! Avast there, my hearties I 
 Can't nobody do nothing to promote a little joie- 
 de-vivre ? Cheerily, my lads, yeo ho ! Don't let 
 the glorious traditions of the fine old crusted 
 British Navy get forgotten ! What shall we do 
 just to put a little life into it ? 
 
 Surgeon Mouldie : Oh, dry up. Merry, and don't 
 try and be funny. What do you want to come 
 disturbing everybody for ? 
 
 (Several other officers grunt their approval of 
 these remarks.) 
 
 Paymaster Bright (who has not succumbed to 
 the general depression) : I'm with you. Merry. 
 We must really do something to brighten life. 
 Why, anyone would think it was peace time, a dull 
 evening like this 1 What shall we do ? 
 
 S5> 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Lieut. Merry : What about a tune on the 
 gramophone just to rouse the lads ? 
 
 Paymaster Bright : Right -o 1 Set her going, 
 full speed ahead, both engines, and let harmony 
 prevail. 
 
 Lieut. Merry : What shall we have ? Here's 
 " Land of Hope and Glory " and " Never let your 
 Braces Dangle." I say, what a pity there isn't 
 some arrangement by which we could switch on 
 the two together 1 They would sound pretty, 
 wouldn't they? 
 
 Paymaster Bright : Well, ladies first. Let Clara 
 do her bit, and stand by to join in the chorus. 
 
 A Voice (from the depths of an armchair) : 
 There isn't any chorus to that; it's a contralto 
 solo. 
 
 Paymaster Bright : Oh, isn't there ? Then we'll 
 jolly soon make one. Come on, Merry, let her 
 rip ! 
 
 The Gramophone: G — ^r — r, g — r — r, g — r — ^r, 
 g — r — r — r ! 
 
 Another Voice (getting more wakeful) : Why, 
 you've got the darn thing on wrong side up ! 
 
 Lieut. Merry: So it is. All right; now we'll 
 start again, and look out for the chorus. 
 
 The Gramophone : " Land of " 
 
 Several gradually roused officers : " Ho -ope and 
 Glo-ory, land of" — what's the words? I don't 
 know how the blessed thing goes. Never mind; 
 it doesn't matter what you sing; keep the tune 
 up, that's the main thing. " Make thee mi-ightier 
 
 86 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 still." In at the death, anyhow. Who says the 
 English aren't a musical nation ? 
 
 Surgeon Mouldie : I can't stand this ! I came 
 in here to be quiet, not to listen to this infernal 
 racket. (Stalks moodily out of the room.) 
 
 Lieut. Merry : The next item on the programme 
 will be — well, I don't know ; what shall we have ? 
 
 Paymaster Bright : Oh, any old thing ! Take 
 the first one that comes out of the box. 
 
 Lieut. Merry : " Elephant Jam," by Caruso. 
 
 Another Officer : " Elephant Jam " ? What on 
 earth's that ? Never heard of it. 
 
 Paymaster Bright : Oh, don't you know it ? 
 It's out of Rigoletto. But, I say, wouldn't it be 
 more fun to turn him into a soprano ? 
 
 Several : Yes, by Jove, yes 1 But how do you 
 do it? 
 
 Paymaster Bright : Nothing simpler. You just 
 push over the time -gadget to top speed — like this. 
 (Does so. The result is distinctly funny, though 
 probably Signor Caruso would not think so.) 
 
 Lieut. Merry : Now we'll have another. What 
 shall it be this time ? 
 
 An Officer : Let's have one of Harry Lauder's. 
 
 Another : No ; put on something from To-night* s 
 the Night. 
 
 Another : What about Florrie Forde ? Haven't 
 we got any of hers ? 
 
 Another : I'd Hke to hear " Hello, Tu-Tu." 
 
 Another : No ; give us a bit of the Yeomen of 
 the Guard. 
 
 87 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Lieut. Merry : Now, my little dears, no crowd- 
 ing, please. One down, t'other come on. Sup- 
 pose we take them in turn ? The next selection 
 will be a song by Mr. Harry Lauder, entitled, 
 " Roaming in the Gloaming," and gentlemen are 
 requested to join in with all that sympathy of 
 tone and depth of feeling which the song demands. 
 Hold on a second. Waiter, bring me a half- 
 whisky. Now, then, all ready? One, two, three 
 — let her go ! 
 
 (They let her go. After a while the gramophone 
 stops, but that is not noticed amongst the many 
 voices uplifted in loud and prolonged repetition of 
 the tuneful number. The chorus gets louder and 
 louder.) 
 
 Enter a sentry. 
 
 Lieut. Merry : What is it, sentry ? 
 
 Sentry : From the captain, sir. Will you please 
 stop that d d noise ? (Exit.) 
 
 88 
 
6. The Showman 
 
 THE scene changes frequently to various 
 parts of the ship. The dramatis personce 
 are : (1) girl, bewitchingly pretty and 
 young; (2) principal boy, who is also the hero 
 and the villain of the piece. He is really Staff- 
 Paymaster Dibbs, affectionately known as Toodle- 
 ums. Then there is (3) the First Lieutenant, who 
 doesn't really count, as he only just flicks on at 
 the beginning and at the end. 
 
 The First Lieute7iant (who has apparently just 
 broken away from a ship tea-party, accompanied 
 by girl) : Oh, I say, what a nuisance ! I'll 
 have to leave you for a while ; the skipper has 
 sent for me. What am I to do ? I can't leave 
 you alone to be the prey of our savage crew. 
 Oh, by Jove 1 here's the very man ! Do you 
 know old Dibbs ? Rattling good chap. I'll get 
 him to look after you for a while, if you don't 
 mind. Dibbs ! Say ! I say, may I introduce 
 you? Mr. Dibbs — Miss H'm-ha-h'm. Sorry I 
 must leave you, but, Dibbs, Miss Er — er would 
 like awfully to have a look round the ship, and — 
 well, I mustn't keep the old man waiting; you'll 
 be quite all right, you two, won't you ? (Exit.) 
 
 89 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Dibbs : Would you really like to look round the 
 ship? Are you sure you wouldn't rather come 
 and sit down somewhere ? (To himself: I wish 
 she would. I've never been round the ship 
 myself. Don't know a single blessed thing about 
 itl) 
 
 Girl : Oh, I should love to see it all. You 
 must tell me about everything. Ships are so 
 interesting, aren't they? 
 
 Dibbs : Oh, frightfully. What shall we start 
 with? This (indicating the surrounding country 
 with a sweep of his arm) is called the quarter- 
 deck. 
 
 Girl: Oh, really! Why? 
 
 Dibbs : Oh, er — (I'm sure I don't know. Why 
 is it, I wonder?) Oh, because it gets scrubbed 
 out every three months — on Quarter Day. These 
 are our guns — at least, two of 'em. 
 
 Girl : Oh, really ! And how many are there on 
 the boat altogether ? 
 
 Dibbs : About twenty couple and a half, I 
 believe. But they're constantly changing. It 
 depends largely on the First Lieutenant. The 
 last man we had was a bit of a crank on the sub- 
 ject — ^what they call a gunnery lieutenant. He 
 would insist upon having more guns and yet 
 more guns. We had as many as eighty at one 
 time, and it was quite difficult to get about the 
 upper deck for them, especially after dark. But 
 it's better now. 
 
 Girl : And which end do you put the bullet in ? 
 
 90 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 Dibbs : "Why, the end, you see, where the round 
 hole is. That's why the guns are kept pointed 
 upwards, so that the bullets shan't drop out. 
 
 Girl : I see. Then I suppose they lower the 
 points of the cannons down towards the deck to 
 load them ? It must be very difficult, isn't it ? 
 
 Dibbs : Oh, no ; that's not the way they do it 
 at all. You see the masts, don't you? Well, 
 they're hollow, and the bullets come up inside 
 them, shot up by an arrangement like you see in 
 a shop when you get your change in a little box; 
 then they pass along those cross -sticks on the mast, 
 and are lowered down by those ropes, you see, 
 and dropped into the cannon's mouth. It's quite 
 simple, really. Let's come along the upper deck, 
 shall we ? 
 
 Girl : Oh, here's another little gun ; isn't it a 
 darling ! Isn't it just too twee for words ! 
 
 Dibbs : That's called a three -pounder. It isn't 
 a gun, really — ^not for killing enemies with, I 
 mean ; it's only a practice gun, and makes a sort 
 of shrill, barking noise. The idea is to fire it 
 constantly so as to get the men used to the voice 
 of the commander, which it much resembles. But 
 if any man fires it off without orders, he gets 
 fined £3. Hence the name. Now here is the 
 fore-bridge. Shall we go up? You don't mind 
 climbing ladders, do you? 
 
 Girl : Why is it called a bridge ? It doesn't 
 look much like one. 
 
 Dibbs : Ah ! that's a very shocking and painful 
 
 91 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 story. I almost wish you hadn't touched on it. 
 But, since you have, I'll tell you. The fact is, 
 some of our officers are inveterate card-players. 
 They will gamble, though, of course, it isn't 
 allowed; so in order to get away from the sight 
 of the men they had this little sort of scaffolding- 
 place built, and they come up here and play 
 auction. It is winked at by the authorities, I'm 
 afraid, and almost every ship has a place like this. 
 It's called the bridge -room, or the bridge, for 
 short. 
 
 Girl : But there seem to be sailors here now, 
 and there are no officers gambling? 
 
 Dibbs : Ah ! but you should see it of a night- 
 time I During the day the place is used for 
 signalling. 
 
 Girl : Oh I is he signalling — ^that man waving 
 those flags ? What is he saying ? Can you tell 
 me? 
 
 Dibbs : Oh, certainly. " C-A-P — Captain to 
 Admiral." (Hold on a minute.) ** Meet me at 
 Sawdust Club to-night if sober." 
 
 Girl : How clever you are I Fancy being able 
 to read like that I 
 
 Dibbs : Oh, that's nothing, really. Sight -signal- 
 Hng is awfully easy. It's the scent-signalling that 
 is the difficult matter. 
 
 Girl : Scent -signalKng ! Why, what is that ? 
 
 Dibbs : 1 don't know that I ought to tell you — 
 it's highly confidential and secret. But we have 
 a system of sending different perfumes along an 
 
 92 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 electric current, one after another, in a sort of 
 code. There are only three scents used — pepper- 
 mint, violet, and carbolic. Suppose, for instance, 
 we send a scent-message to, we'll say, the flagship 
 in China, in that particular order, that means : 
 " Sell at once ; market dropping heavily." 
 
 Girl : I noticed a distinct smell of violets in 
 town this morning. 
 
 Dibbs : Ah 1 that by itself, without the carboHc 
 or peppermint in conjunction, was probably a 
 message from the Flag-Lieutenant to the Admiral's 
 daughter — a private message gone astray. It 
 meant, " Yes, I will be roimd as soon as I can." 
 
 Girl: Oh 1 
 
 Dibbs : Would you care to see my cabin ? 
 Down this way. Small, isn't it? 
 
 Girl: It is small, but it's very pretty. I sup- 
 pose every one of the sailors has a cabin like 
 this? 
 
 Dibbs : Yes, the whole eight hundred of them. 
 It makes it awfully hard work for the padre. 
 
 Girl : What does ? 
 
 Dibbs : Why, going round to the whole eight 
 hundred cabins every night and hearing the sailors 
 say their prayers, and then tucking them in, 
 saying good -night, and blowing out the candle 
 for them. 
 
 Girl : And do you always live in this little 
 cabin ? 
 
 Dibbs : Well, the men live in theirs, but if the 
 ship is travelling, the officers always go ashore and 
 
 98 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 take the train, and pick the ship up at the next 
 port. 
 
 « ♦ * 4: « 
 
 (An Hour Later.) 
 
 The First Lieutenant : Well, how did you get 
 along ? She's an awfully nice girl, isn't she ? 
 
 Dibbs : Very. But who is she ? I didn't catch 
 her name. 
 
 The First Lieutenant : 'Why, the Admiral's 
 daughter? Didn't you know? 
 
 Dibbs: Help I 
 
 94 
 
7. Solving an Acrostic 
 
 THE Fleet-Surgeon is discovered sitting at the 
 wardroom table, with an open newspaper 
 in front of him. His eye, like the pro- 
 verbial poet's, " is in a fine frenzy rolling," and 
 he appears generally to be suffering from brain- 
 storm. The track of this said storm is marked by 
 scattered sheets of paper, on which strange words 
 have been written, and then scratched out again. 
 Suddenly he looks up and demands in a worried 
 voice — 
 
 What begins with " L " and ends with " R "— 
 the name of a profession ? 
 
 The Paymaster : " Liar." 
 
 F.-S. : Don't be a wag. " Liar " isn't the name 
 of a profession, is it ? 
 
 The Pay, : Well, I don't know ; some people 
 are too good at it to be classed as amateurs. But 
 why ? What are you doing ? 
 
 F.-S, : I'm solving this acrostic — or trying to. 
 
 Pay, : What frivolous people you doctors are ! 
 Your life must be one gay whirl of excitement ! 
 
 F.-S, : Dry up, unless you Hke to bring the 
 weight of your knowledge to bear upon this. If 
 so, think again, and tell me the name of a 
 
 95 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 profession beginning with " L " and ending with 
 " R." 
 
 Pay. : Let me see — leather-mender, launderer, 
 lamplighter, lobelia-grower ? 
 
 F.-S. : Don't be silly. Those aren't professions. 
 
 Pay. : Wliat about lingerer ? 
 
 F.-S.: What on earth's a lingerer? Never 
 heard of it. 
 
 Pay. : One who linges, from the verb " to linge," 
 derived from the French " lingerie." Like haber- 
 dasher from " haberdashery." Lingerer, a man 
 who designs, makes, or sells linen clothing. 
 
 F.-S. : I believe you're making it all up. Stop 
 rotting, and give me a proper word if you can. 
 
 Pay. : I must know something more about it 
 first. How far have you got ? 
 
 F.-S. : Only as far as the " uprights '* — Belgium 
 and Berlin. 
 
 Pay. : You're quite sure about that ? 
 
 F.-S. : Yes, I think so. Listen ! 
 
 ** My first, a country overrun 
 By blood-stained boot of ruthless Hun ; 
 But strict account will sure be reckoned 
 When the avengers get to second," 
 
 Pay. : And you make that- 
 
 F.-S.: "Belgium" and "Berlin," of course 1 
 What else can they be ? 
 
 Pay. : But " Belgium " has got seven letters, 
 and " Berlin " only six. 
 
 F.-S. : Confound it all, so they have 1 And I 
 
 96 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 had got two splendid " lights " for B — B and 
 E — E. Now I shall have to start all over again. 
 
 Pay. : How about " Serbia " for the first up- 
 right ? That would fit in, wouldn't it ? 
 
 F,-S. : So it would. Yes, of course, that's it. 
 Now for the first " Hght." 
 
 Pay. : Let's finish the one you were doing — 
 the profession beginning with " L " and ending 
 with " R." 
 
 F.'S.: But there isn't any "L" now; it's 
 " R— R." 
 
 Pay. : Of course it is. No wonder we found it 
 difficult. Let's see — writer ? No, that starts with 
 " w." Better take all the vowels in order — rambler 
 redintegrator, rinser, roysterer, rum-distiller. No 
 good, eh ? 
 
 F.-S. : It's funny how hard these things can be, 
 and yet it looks easy enough : — 
 
 " An honoured profession, by which, it is said, 
 A man can most easily earn daily bread." 
 
 Pay. : Well, it can't be " Paymaster," that's a 
 dead cert. ! Look how we have to dig out to 
 earn our miserable pittance ! I'll tell you what — 
 let's ask someone else. 
 
 (Enter several officers.) 
 
 Pay. : I say, what profession begins and ends 
 with " R." 
 
 The Captain of Marines : Oh, that's easy enough I 
 With " R," did you say? Why— well, I'm blest 
 if I know of one ! Hang it, I can't be done by a 
 thing Hke that ! I'll tell you presently. (Exit.) 
 H 97 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 The Chaplain : I've got an acrostic dictionary 
 in my cabin ; I'll go and look it up. (Exit.) 
 
 The Senior Watch-keeper : I'm rather good at 
 these things. Give me half a minute, and I'll 
 tell you. With "R"? Beginning with "R"? 
 Where's the dictionary? (Exit.) 
 
 The Engineer-Lieutenant : I believe I have an 
 old Trades Dictionary somewhere. That might 
 give it. (Exit.) 
 
 The Commander : It sounds easy enough, doesn't 
 it ? That's the worst of these things — ^there's 
 generally some catch in them. Just give me a 
 chit of paper; I'll think it out during the day. 
 
 nf * mt * 4t 
 
 (Six Hours Later.) 
 
 (On the Stokers' Mess-deck.) — Stoker 2nd Class 
 Alf. Wallsend (to his chum) : I say, 'Igginson, wot 
 profession is there wot begins with a " R " and 
 ends with a " R " ? 
 
 (On the Signal -bridge, by wireless and in cypher.) 
 — Captain to Captain : Shall be much obliged if 
 you can kindly inform me of the name of a pro- 
 fession which begins and ends with the letter 
 " R." 
 
 (And it isn't solved yet !) 
 
 98 
 
8. The Perfect Pessimist 
 
 A S there is an individual of the type herein 
 A"\ described in every branch of the Service, 
 his name and rank need not be specified ; 
 he may be allowed to appear simply as the 
 " Perfect Pessimist," or " P. P.," for short. And 
 if you want to know what he really thinks, it will 
 be necessary for you to read on patiently till you 
 get to the end. The scene is in the wardroom, at 
 any old time . 
 
 P. P. (speaking to all in general and apropos 
 of nothing in particular) : Well, all I can say 
 is, I hope to goodness we don't have a fleet 
 action. 
 
 No, 1 : Hullo ! what's biting you ? Why do 
 you hope that ? 
 
 P. P. ; Because I don't want to see our Navy 
 blown out of the water — ^that's why I So far as 
 I can see, it would take the German fleet just 
 about half an hour to walk clean through us 1 
 Their ships are ever so much better than ours — 
 better built, better designed, better gunned, better 
 everything ! 
 
 Lieut. G. : Do you really believe that ? 
 
 P. P. ; Believe it ? I know it 1 I grant you 
 
 09 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 we have more ships than they have, but, ship for 
 ship, we aren't a match for them; can't hold a 
 candle to 'em ! 
 
 Lieut T, : By Jove I We're in a bad way 1 
 ■ P. P. ; Oh, you may laugh, but you know it's 
 true. Look at their officers — ^highly trained, scien- 
 tific men, every one of 'em ; and their men — chock- 
 ful of patriotism and zeal, properly taught, and 
 properly handled I 
 
 Lieut. R,M. : Well, but come — ^we haven't done 
 so badly so far, have we ? 
 
 P. P. ; Just by sheer luck ! Well, luck may 
 carry us through yet ; it's the only thing that will, 
 anyhow. That's all I'm trusting to ! 
 
 No. 1 : You seem to have a pretty poor opinion 
 of the Navy, haven't you? What makes you 
 think like that ? 
 
 P. P. ; Oh, well, I judge by this ship ! We 
 can't steam, we can't shoot, we can't do anything ! 
 And I've no reason to believe that other ships are 
 different to this. If they're not, then Heaven 
 help us, that's all I've got to say ! 
 
 Lieut. G. : But we did pretty good firing last 
 time, didn't we ? In fact, every time I My 
 modesty almost forbids me to remind you that we 
 got a hot-air signal from the flagship, specially 
 congratulating us on our shooting. 
 
 P. P. ; Pooh I Then all the other ships must 
 have been pretty rotten ! I was on deck, and 
 watched it myself. And dam bad shooting it was, 
 too, in my opinion ! 
 
 100 
 
Wardroom Biuidgues 
 
 Eng.-Lieut. : Well, what's the matter with our 
 steaming? I can't recall any breakdowns. We 
 seem to be able to keep going all right. 
 
 P. P. : All luck again 1 Wait till we get some 
 really bad weather, then we shall see ! Honestly, 
 I think our best chance in an action would be to 
 be sunk by one of our own torpedoes and put out 
 of misery ! That's about all our torpedoes would 
 do — ^tum round and hit their own ship; as for 
 running straight for a hundred yards, I'll eat my 
 hat if they can do it 1 
 
 Sentry (entering and saluting) : Gentleman to 
 see you, sir. 
 
 P. P. ; Who— me ? What sort of gentleman ? 
 Who is he ? Where is he ? 
 
 Sentry : Civilian, sir. I've shown him to your 
 cabin. 
 
 P.P.: All right. I'll come right along. (Exit.) 
 
 (The rest of the dialogue is continued in the 
 P. P.'s cabin, the dramatis personce being, as the 
 picture papers would say, P. P. and friend.) 
 
 Friend : Hullo, old bird I How's things ? I 
 had to come down this way on business, and 
 thought I would just blow along and see you. 
 It's the first time I've been on board a modem 
 ship, and 
 
 P. P. ; Then you've come to the right place, 
 me boy ! If you like, I'll show you round, and 
 you'll see the finest ship in the Navy ! 
 
 Friend : Is that so ? Thanks ; I shall be de- 
 lighted. Tell me — I say — you know all about it — 
 
 101 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 what is the Navy really like? What sort of a 
 state is it in, I mean ? 
 
 P.P.: The Navy? What sort of a state ? My 
 dear fellow, you should ask the Germans that 
 question ! 
 
 Friend : Well, they seem to have a wholesome 
 respect for it, it's true. Do you think they mean 
 to put up a fight ? 
 
 P. P. : I only wish they would ! But they've 
 got more sense. Why, it wouldn't be a fight — ^we 
 should plaster them out of existence in about ten 
 minutes ! Fight ? It would be chicken-slaughter ! 
 
 Friend : Your gunnery's pretty good, then ? 
 
 P. P. ; Gunnery ? Well, I only wish you could 
 have seen this ship last time we fired 1 Every 
 single shot would have hit the enemy if he had 
 been the target 1 
 
 Friend : But they're pretty good, too, aren't 
 they? I've heard they have some very good 
 ships. 
 
 P. P. ; So they may have ; I don't say they 
 haven't. But you can't have better than the 
 best, and that's what ours are. And if any ships 
 can touch ours for sound construction, good steam- 
 ing qualities, or anything else you like to mention, 
 why, I'd just Uke to see them, that's all I 
 
 Friend : But their men are awfully well trained, 
 aren't they, and their officers, too ? 
 
 P. P. ; Well drilled, if you like. And, of course, 
 they're terrific x-chasers. But I don't think there's 
 much wrong with our lot. We go by the system 
 
 102 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 that suits us best. It's panned out very well in 
 the past, and you can depend on it to do all that's 
 required for the future. But come along and 
 have a look round, and, as I said before, I'll show 
 you something of the finest ship of the finest Navy 
 in the world 1 
 
 103 
 
9. The Scapegoat 
 
 THIS is not, strictly speaking, a "Wardroom 
 Dialogue," though part of it takes place 
 in the wardroom. It is really an all-over- 
 the-ship dialogue, and you must imagine yourself 
 on a personally-conducted tour, starting in the 
 captain's cabin, and finishing " somewhere on the 
 upper-deck." 
 
 The Captain (with a face like a sea-boot) : 
 Commander, would you mind reading through 
 this ? It has just come from the Vice -Admiral. 
 
 The Commander (who, as he reads, rapidly ac- 
 quires a face like a scrubbed hammock) : H'm ! 
 What do you make of it, sir ? 
 
 Captain : What do I make of it ? The ques- 
 tion is — what do you make of it ? Or, rather, 
 what have you made of it ? And I'll tell you 
 the answer to that straight off : You've made a 
 mess of it — ^a pretty mess of it ! To think that 
 I should get a rub-down like this from the 
 Admiral 
 
 (And so on. Now we adjourn to the Com- 
 mander's cabin.) 
 
 Commander : I should have thought, No. 1, 
 
 104 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 that you would have had more sense ! Hang it 
 all, you're First Lieutenant of this ship, aren't you, 
 and what's a First Lieutenant for? I consider 
 that you've let me down — let me down badly I 
 You might have told me — I can't be everywhere ; 
 and how is a Commander to know what's going on 
 unless people do let him know ? I can't leave the 
 ship for half an hour without something going 
 wrong ! 
 
 First Lieutenant : Sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I 
 don't yet quite understand what has gone wrong. 
 
 Commander : I should have thought it was 
 plain enough. Why hasn't the copper-punt been 
 hoisted out ? I wrote it down in my order-book ; 
 and, besides, I distinctly remember asking you to 
 see it done, before I left the ship I 
 
 (Now we really do get to the wardroom, if only 
 to leave it again very shortly.) 
 
 First Lieutenant : Who is the Officer of the 
 Day? 
 
 A Certain Officer : I am. What is it, No. 1 ? 
 Can I do anything? 
 
 First Lieutenant : H'm ! You don't look as if 
 you could. I always thought that at this hour 
 the Officer of the Day was supposed to be on 
 deck I There's the side -party, supposed theoreti- 
 cally to be painting the ship, and, so far as I can 
 see, their whole occupation appears to be having 
 a little political discussion or something of that 
 sort. Upon my word, I don't blame 'em, when 
 
 105 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 the Officer of the Day thinks fit to spend his time 
 in the wardroom 1 I can find plenty to do going 
 round the mess -deck and flats, but it seems I 
 can't be off the upper-deck for five minutes 
 without something going wrong ! 
 
 Officer of the Day : But there's no painting 
 party at work now; they sounded off cooks ten 
 minutes ago ! 
 
 No. 1 : Did they ? A funny time of day to 
 sound off cooks I The routine of this ship beats 
 everything I've ever heard of. I suppose they'll 
 be sounding off sunset in a minute or two ! (Exit, 
 still growling.) 
 
 Officer of the Day (proceeding on deck) : Who is 
 the officer of the watch ? One of the Warrants, I 
 suppose. Useless lot! Where is he? Officer of 
 the Watch ! 
 
 O.O.W. (who is standing about two paces off) : 
 Sir? 
 
 O.O.D. : Oh, there you are ! I've been singing 
 out for you for the last five minutes ! Just cast 
 your eye over that railing, will you ? What is the 
 meaning of all those Irish pennants hanging over 
 the side ? Upon my word, any one would think 
 this was a " gobby " ship from her lousy appear- 
 ance ! 
 
 O.O.W. (removing a single rope's-end which has 
 been hanging out of place): Sorry, sir; I didn't 
 notice it. 
 
 O.O.D. : Well, if the Officer of the Watch can't 
 
 106 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 notice these things, I don't know who should ! I 
 can't leave the deck two minutes without some- 
 thing going wrong ! (Leaves the deck — ^for an 
 hour !) 
 
 Officer of the Watch : Quartermaster I 
 
 Quartermaster: Sir. 
 
 O.O.W, : Why isn't the picquet-boat called 
 away? 
 
 Q. ; You never told me to call her away, 
 sir. 
 
 0.0. W, : Told you ! Surely you don't want to 
 be told every single blessed thing, do you ? Some 
 of you people want to be dry-nursed, that's what 
 it is 1 The Quartermaster ought to know the 
 ship's routine, and see it carried out ! That's 
 your duty, and if you can't do your duty we shall 
 very soon find some one else who can 1 (Stalks 
 away, with an air of honour avenged.) 
 
 Quartermaster : Side -boy ! Side -boy ! 
 
 Side-boy : Yessir. 
 
 Q. : Don't say " Yessir," as if you wuz a 
 blooming counter-jumper I Lazy, good-fer-nothin' 
 little monkey ! Why can't you speak when you're 
 spoken to ? 
 
 Side-boy : Please, sir, you didn't ask me nothin'. 
 
 Q. : Hold yer tongue, and don't give me 
 any of your back-answers. Take that fer yer 
 imperence 1 
 
 Side-boy : Yow ! 
 
 Q. ; Don't do it again, then ! (Exit.) 
 
 107 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Side-boy (enticingly to the Ship's Cat) : Poosy, 
 poor Httle poosy; come here, then. 
 Cat (affectionately) : Mrrrr ? 
 Side-boy : That's for keeps ! (Kicks cat.) 
 Cat: Mew! 
 
 108 
 
10. Pay -Day 
 
 TIME^the last day of the month. Several 
 officers in various stages of impecuniosity 
 — ranging from complete stoney-broken- 
 ness to that state where one works out the problem 
 of " How to have a day ashore for a bob " — ^are 
 discussing the financial situation. There is only 
 one real capitalist among the group, and he has 
 borrowed five shillings from the messman. 
 
 The Optimist : Hooray ! Here's pay-day come 
 at last 1 Now we shall all be rolling in wealth 
 once more. 
 
 The Pessimist: What's the good of it? By 
 the time you've paid your mess -bill and worked 
 off another little bit of your outfitter's bill, there's 
 nothing left. It's only taking it in with one hand 
 to give it out with the other 1 
 
 The Humorist : What's the good of money ? 
 You only spend it when you've got it ! 
 
 The Capitalist (jingling his borrowed five shillings 
 ostentatiously) : Well, I should be sorry to run 
 out to a clinch in the way some of you fellows 
 seem to do. For my part, I always take care to 
 have money about me. A little management, a 
 
 109 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 little calculation and forethought, that's all that 
 is required. 
 
 The Optimist : What -ho ! Here comes the Pay- 
 master. Now for the Jimmy-o'-Gk)blins 1 
 
 (Enter the Paymaster, laden with a number of 
 small envelopes containing money.) 
 
 The Specialist : Pay and allowances ! Well, I 
 don't do so badly this month, anyhow. 
 
 The Humorist : If you were to do the graceful 
 thing you would return two -thirds of it as con- 
 science money. Tell you what, I'll cut you, my 
 pay against yours ? 
 
 The Specialist : Nothing doing. A grateful 
 country values my services and assesses them, 
 not up to their proper value, of course, but just 
 sufficiently to show that my work is far more 
 useful than your mere coolie labour. 
 
 The Contortionist (examining his money) : I won- 
 der if I've got my half-a-crown a day for physical 
 training duties amongst this lot. 
 
 The Economist (who has been looking up the 
 items in the extra-book) : I say. Pay, there's 
 something wrong about this. They've charged 
 me twopence for an extra egg on the morning of 
 the 14th. I never had an extra egg on the morning 
 of the 14th. 
 
 The Optimist : By Jove 1 I'm one pound three 
 and fourpence to the good this month I I've 
 only got to pay my servant and my washing- 
 bill out of it; haven't had so much for a long 
 time. 
 
 110 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 The Humorist : Well, don't go hoarding gold ; 
 put it into the War Loan. 
 
 The Pragmatist : I see Fm down for fifteen 
 shillings for cards this month. Beastly bad luck ! 
 Now, if only I had gone two royals instead of 
 
 three hearts in that first game last night 
 
 (Proceeds to hold a post-mortem, to which nobody 
 pays the slightest attention.) 
 
 The Amorist : I've got four quid left ! Come 
 along, girls I Who's going to marry me for my 
 money ? 
 
 The Artillerist : I hope that now you fellows 
 have got your pay, you'll all subscribe to the 
 Gunnery Prizes Fund. I want to put up some- 
 thing for a Morris -tube competition. 
 
 The Humorist : Take my all. Here's tuppence ! 
 
 The Sensualist : I see the messman is charging 
 threepence for jam at seven-bell tea. Well, it's 
 worth it. It's lovely jam 1 
 
 The Optimist : Well, I must say it's a fine 
 thing to have it all worked out for you like this. 
 And on the last day of the month, too 1 Pay, 
 you're the most efficient paymaster I've ever been 
 shipmates with. You fix it all up, and pay our 
 money, and take our money, without our feeling 
 it one Httle bit. Why, it's a pleasure to pay mess- 
 bills in this ship. Just like having a tooth out 
 under gas — rather a delightful sensation than 
 otherwise. I don't know how you do it, Fm 
 sure. 
 
 The Paymaster: Oh, I forgot to mention that 
 
 111 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 the mess -bills have not been taken out of it this 
 month, as they usually are. They have still to 
 be paid. 
 
 All (horror-stricken) : What ? 
 
 The Paymaster : Yes ; you see, the new scale of 
 income-tax comes into force now. Of course, if 
 any of you want an advance 
 
 The Humorist : Oh 1 Lloyd George, Lloyd 
 George 1 You little know what damage you have 
 done 1 
 
 112 
 
11. The Burning Question 
 
 THE chief actor in the following drama is a 
 gentleman who has joined the Navy for 
 the duration of the war. His precise rank 
 need not be specified. He is hereunder denoted 
 simply by the initials R.N.V.R. He is bubbling 
 with zeal, and efficient to the last button of his 
 brand-new British-warm. Also, he is thirsty for 
 information. The officers with whom he converses 
 are very numerous, and it would bore you horribly 
 to have to remember all their names and ranks, so 
 we will just call them Heedless Chatterer, 1, 2, 3, 
 etc. 
 
 R.N.V.R. (enters wardroom and sits down 
 alongside H.C. 1) : I say, let me hear your opinion, 
 will you ? Do you think 
 
 H.C. 1 : Oh, you're just up from the village, 
 aren't you? Did you go and see To-nighfs the 
 Night ? 
 
 R.N.V.R. : Yes, I saw it. Ripping thing. But 
 do you think they 
 
 H.C. 1 : By Jove ! I would just like to see a 
 revue again. Lucky beggar, you. I suppose you 
 must have had about a week in Town before 
 joining up, didn't you ? 
 
 I 118 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 R.N.V.R.: Not a week; only five days. Do 
 you think they will 
 
 H.C, 1 : Only five days ! I wish to goodness I 
 could get five days. Here, P.M.O., how much do 
 you want to square you to give me a drop of sick 
 leave ? I'll go sick with any disease you like to 
 name. Choose the one you are most interested 
 in. I'm your man ! 
 
 R.N.V.R.: Surely you don't mean that ? You 
 don't want to go sick, do you ? But you haven't 
 answered my question. Do you think they will 
 come 
 
 H.C, 1 : All very well for you to talk like that. 
 You haven't spent weary months at this silly 
 game like I have. What was it you were asking 
 me? 
 
 R.N.V.R. : I want to know — Do you think they 
 will come out ? 
 
 H.C. 1 : Who come out ? Come out where ? 
 
 R.N.V.R. : Why, the German fleet, of course. 
 
 H.C. 1 : Oh, I d'know. (Yawns and departs.) 
 
 (Enter H.C. 2.) 
 
 R.N.V.R. : Oh, I say, let me ask you. Perhaps 
 you- 
 
 H.C, 2 : What about me doing some asking ? 
 You are our latest source of information from the 
 civilised world. Just come from London, haven't 
 you ? Did you see anything of the Zeppies ? 
 
 R.N.V.R. : Oh, yes ; I saw them. In fact, I 
 was right on the spot in the last raid. But — do 
 you think they will ever come out ? 
 
 114. 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 H.C. 2 : Not while the winter lasts. Zeppies 
 don't like wind or snow, or even rain; but they 
 may come again some time. 
 
 R.N.V.R,: Oh, I didn't mean them. I 
 meant — — 
 
 H.C. 2 : But we were talking about Zeppies, 
 weren't we ? Don't hop from one subject to 
 another like a blithering dicky-bird. My brain 
 won't stand it. Now then, what is it you do 
 mean? 
 
 R.N.V.R. : The High Seas fleet— do you think 
 they will ever come out ? 
 
 H.C. 2 : Oh, them ! (Yawns and departs.) 
 
 R.N.V.R. (also drifts away, and presently way- 
 lays H.C. 3) : Do you think 
 
 H.C. 3 : No, I don't think 1 It's gone past 
 thought, and if I knew any words bad enough to 
 say, I'd say 'em. Here's that lout of a captain 
 of the quarter-deck gone and rubbed his beastly 
 breeches all along the new enamel of the after- 
 turret I Just been put on, too ! Stupid ass ! He 
 ought to be disrated to ordinary seaman ! 
 
 R.N.V.R. : Surely paint is a small matter in 
 war time ? 
 
 H.C. 3 : Paint a small matter ! Look here, 
 young feller-me-lad, how long have you been in 
 the Service ? 
 
 R.N.V.R. : Just a fortnight. Not too late, I 
 hope, to fight the German fleet. Do you think 
 they will come out ? 
 
 H,C, 3 : I'm blessed if I know, and I'm blessed 
 
 115 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 if I care ! All I know is that the after- turret 
 now looks like a bally patchwork quilt, and I've 
 no more enamel left in the ship. 
 
 R.N.V.R. turns sadly away, convinced that the 
 Navy is in a thoroughly bad way. But, then, the 
 Germans used to think that, too 1 
 
 116 
 
12. Crabbed Age and Youth 
 
 APATHETIC little drama of deep human 
 interest, featuring the Chief and the 
 P.M.O., two venerable greybeards and 
 co-fathers of the mess ; also the newly-joined, 
 eighteen-year-old subaltern of Marines — known as 
 the War Baby, and Dogsbody — a youthful Assis- 
 tant-Paymaster for three years or the duration 
 of the war. 
 
 Scene : The wardroom. Time : After dinner. 
 
 Chief (who, with his fellow-ancient, is alone in 
 the wardroom) : Well, I don't know what you 
 think about it, P.M.O., but to my mind the Service 
 is becoming an unfit place for any one who has 
 come to years of discretion. The mess is bought 
 up by a lot of children, these days ! You can't 
 get any intelligent conversation; you can't even 
 get a quiet game of cards I The whole place is 
 entirely given over to a lot of youngsters, who 
 ought properly to be in the nursery ! 
 
 P.M.O. : You're right, Chief. Why, I remem- 
 ber the time when the youngsters would never 
 dream of doing the things they're allowed to do 
 now. When I first joined the Service, a two- 
 striped officer would no more dream of sitting in 
 
 117 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 an armchair if a senior officer was in the mess 
 than he would have thought of flying ! But now- 
 adays you find them lolling and sprawling in all the 
 most comfortable armchairs, while the three-striper 
 has to take a high chair or else go to his cabin ! 
 
 Chief: What I notice most is that they take 
 nothing seriously. They're all for play the whole 
 time. You never see them with a book in their 
 hands unless it's some trashy novel; and all the 
 time when they should be studying their job they're 
 just looking out for some fresh way of amusing 
 themselves. 
 
 P.M.O. : The fact is, Chief, we're getting too 
 old for a naval mess. It isn't altogether the 
 youngsters' fault that we feel out of it all; it's 
 largely due to the fact that we have outgrown 
 their ideas and amusements. I daresay, in our 
 day, we were much the same as they are, really ! 
 
 Chief: Yes, I suppose that's it. Youth will be 
 served. Childishness no longer appeals to us, 
 simply because we are no longer children. 
 
 (Enter Dogsbody and the War Baby, the latter 
 holding a large cardboard box.) 
 
 War Baby : Yes, one of my aunts sent it to 
 me, dear old soul. Thought it would amuse me, 
 I suppose. I don't know what to do with the 
 blessed thing. I think I'll send it for'ard to the 
 sick-bay ; it may help the patients to forget their 
 troubles. 
 
 P.M.O. (looking up quickly) : What's that you 
 say about the sick-bay ? 
 
 118 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 War Baby : Oh, nothing, sir. I'm only talking 
 about a game I've had sent me. 
 
 P.M.O. : Humph ! A game ! 
 
 Dogsbody : Let's have a look at the silly thing. 
 Set it out on the table. One board, ten pink 
 ships, and ten blue ones, and one book of the 
 words. We might as well try it, just to see if it's 
 any good, eh ? 
 
 War Baby: All right; nothing else to do. 
 Come on; I'll be old Tirpitz, and see if I can 
 strafe you. 
 
 (Ten minutes later.) 
 
 Dogsbody: No; that's not right. 
 
 War Baby : Yes, it is. 
 
 Dogsbody : No, it isn't. 
 
 P.M.O. (putting down a paper) : What on earth 
 are you two squabbling about ? 
 
 Dogsbody : I appeal to you, sir. Doesn't it say 
 that a ship is sunk when — but if you wouldn't 
 mind reading the rules yourself. 
 
 P.M.O. (reading) : Well, I don't know; it seems 
 quite a debatable point. I say. Chief, come here 
 a minute. How do you read this ? 
 
 Chief: What is it all about ? (Takes the rules 
 and reads them.) 
 
 P.M.O. (sitting himself down in the War Baby's 
 chair) : The whole point is this : Supposing I 
 move here, and you don't go for the destroyer, 
 are you entitled to sink me or not ? 
 
 Chief: I must see it more closely. (Takes 
 
 119 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Dogsbody's chair.) H'm ! What was the last 
 move ? Oh, there ; eh ? You did that ? 
 
 P.M.O. : Yes ; and now I claim that I can go 
 on and have another move with the same ship. 
 
 Chief: But I shouldn't have made that move 
 at all. I can see a much more wily scheme. I'm 
 going to move here, see ? Now I believe I've got 
 you bending 1 
 
 P.M.O. : So you have 1 No, you haven't, 
 though ; I'm blessed if you have 1 See ? I'm 
 going to move here. That gets out of it all right. 
 
 (Enter a Writer, with many memos.) 
 
 Writer (to Chief) : For you, sir. 
 
 Chief: Oh, take it away, and bring it to me 
 some other time ! Can't you see I'm busy ? 
 
 P.M.O. : There's a lot in this game, when you 
 come to look into it. Go on. Chief; it's your 
 move. 
 
 Chief: Well, I don't know. What's the use of 
 finishing off a game half-way through ? Suppose 
 we start afresh ? 
 
 P.M.O. : Right you are, young feller-me-lad. 
 
 •p 3p ^ •!* ^ 
 
 War Baby (leaving the wardroom in company 
 with Dogsbody) : Well, thank goodness, some 
 one's found a use for it. Come on. Dogsbody; 
 let's have a good solid hour at French together. 
 
 120 
 
13. Divided Attention 
 
 THE Senior Member of the Mess, besides being 
 a specialist in his own particular job, unfor- 
 tunately considers himself a specialist also 
 in bee-keeping. The fact that he has never been 
 near a hive in his life — except once, and then he 
 was badly stung, — ^makes no difference. 
 
 The Junior Member has a great many curious 
 and interesting reminiscences, some of which he 
 is now heard relating to a messmate. 
 
 The poor Middleman would like to chip in to 
 Junior's conversation, but is being button-holed 
 by Senior, in the manner of the Wedding Guest 
 in the Ancient Mariner, 
 
 Senior: You see, bee-keeping is not a pastime 
 — ^it's a science ; and it's no good your taking it 
 up unless you're prepared to learn something 
 about it. If you, for instance, were to start 
 keeping bees — 
 
 Junior (whose words are uttered at the same 
 time as the above) : And I give you my word I 
 had the highest old time in all my life; simply 
 ripping ! I hope to go there again the very next 
 time we ever give leave, and if I can get any one 
 
 to come with me 
 
 121 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Middleman : By Jove ! wouldn't I just like to 1 
 
 Senior : Would you, really ? Like to keep 
 bees ? I didn't know that you were really in- 
 terested in the subject. 
 
 Middleman : Oh — er — ^that is to say — oh, yes, 
 frightfully keen about it 1 Awfully topping little 
 creatures — bees 1 
 
 Senior: I must lend you some books about 
 them. 
 
 Junior : But I don't know what to do about 
 the letters. It rather goes against my grain to 
 destroy them, but 
 
 Middleman : I should burn 'em, every one of 
 'em! 
 
 Senior : Oh, well, I'm not going to lend you 
 any books if you mean to burn them. 
 
 Middleman : I'm sure I never said so, sir. I 
 should enjoy reading them. 
 
 Senior: Of course, they are a little bit dry; 
 but if you want to study the matter seriously, 
 you must read books written in a scientific manner. 
 Maeterlinck, now, is very fascinating and poetical, 
 but he's not systematic — ^not scientific. You 
 want to begin with some solid elementary text- 
 book. 
 
 Junior : There was I with the girl left on my 
 hands for the whole afternoon. I didn't know 
 how to amuse her. She couldn't talk, couldn't 
 rag, couldn't do anything. What would you do 
 in such a case ? 
 
 Senior : Of course, to begin with, you must get 
 
 122 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 hold of a good queen bee; and, mark you, she 
 requires very careful management. 
 
 Middleman : I should buy her a big box of 
 chocolates, and stuff her with them till she couldn't 
 see out of her eyes. 
 
 Senior : Oh, well, if you're going to make a 
 jest of the whole thing it's no good my going 
 any further. Sorry; I thought you were really 
 interested. 
 
 Middleman : My dear sir, of course I am ! 
 Don't know what could have induced me to make 
 such a silly remark ! Must have been thinking of 
 something else for the moment. Tell me, what 
 kind of hive do you recommend as the best sort ? 
 
 Senior: Nothing like the good old-fashioned 
 straw skep; it really answers every requirement, 
 and 
 
 Junior : I made my escape at last, and took a 
 straight line for the local pub. Not a bad little 
 place 
 
 Middleman : The worst of it is, there's no 
 bilHard-room attached to it. 
 
 Senior : Billiard -room — ^in a bee -hive ? 
 
 Middleman : No breathing-room, I said. Those 
 straw hives always seem to me so stuffy. 
 
 Senior : But, don't you know, bees work their 
 own ventilating system? They fan the air with 
 their wings, and so keep up a constant circulation. 
 
 Middleman : Clever little beggars ! 
 
 Junior: But I couldn't get a drink — ^all on 
 
 account of the new regulations • 
 
 128 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Senior : You must keep them well supplied with 
 nourishment during the winter 
 
 Middleman : I can't see that a mild whisky- 
 and-soda can do much harm at any time. 
 
 Senior : Oh, confound you ! I shan't talk to 
 you any more I (Exit in a huff.) 
 
 124 
 
14. Mary and John 
 
 JOHN is a lieutenant; Mary is a girl. A 
 tea-party is in progress in the ward- 
 room. 
 
 John : And, of course, the Service alone is 
 quite sufficient for any man, without having a 
 wife to look after as well. In fact, I don't con- 
 sider that a naval man has any right to marry. 
 It's only those slackers who haven't got enough 
 to do that think about marrjdng. I've always 
 noticed that, directly a man gets married, he 
 gives up all interest in his work, the ship, and 
 everjrthing else. 
 
 Mary : I think you're quite right. So very 
 sensible of you to take such a view. It is so rare 
 to find a really sensible man nowadays. What a 
 handsome fellow your commander is, isn't he ? 
 
 John : H'm ! I hadn't noticed it. Perhaps 
 you're right. 
 
 Mary : Really ! Do you think that's quite 
 pretty of you to put it like that — " perhaps I'm 
 right " ? 
 
 John : Oh, I say, come now ; I didn't mean 
 that. Of course, " you're right," I should have 
 said. 
 
 125 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Mary: Thank you — ^that's better; though I 
 do think his beard spoils him, don't you? And 
 I'm not sure that I altogether care for dark 
 eyes. 
 
 John (who is clean-shaven and extremely fair, 
 to himself) : There's a good deal of common sense 
 about this girl. (Aloud) : What colour eyes do 
 you like ? 
 
 Mary : Oh, if it's going to be a game of con- 
 fessions, my turn comes first. What colour eyes 
 do you like best? (Perhaps it is unnecessary to 
 note the fact that with these words Mary turns 
 her face so as to get a really good Hght on it.) 
 
 John : Me ? Oh, I prefer dark blue — ^no — 
 violet, I mean — ^hang me, if they ain't grey 1 
 
 Mary: Really, you seem very undecided in 
 your opinions. But I think that's much the best 
 way, after all. I never can admire those men 
 who are positive about every subject under the 
 sun, can you? I think it shows narrow-minded- 
 ness. Now, I have a cousin — Reggie ; he's a 
 second -lieutenant. I do think the Army's per- 
 fectly splendid, don't you? 
 
 John : Yes — confound 'em ! I beg pardon — I 
 meant " yes " — er — ^just " yes." 
 
 Mary : I should like you to meet Cousin Reggie. 
 He is so good-looking 1 And so brave ; and such 
 a dear ! 
 
 John (to himself) : Various remarks, which 
 cannot be printed, about Reggie. 
 
 Mary : And he's frightfully keen on my very 
 
 126 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 best pal ! I shouldn't wonder if they were married 
 in a month or so, and I shall be her bridesmaid. 
 
 John : I'm sure he must be a top-hole chap. 
 Hope I shall come across him one of these 
 days. 
 
 Mary : Perhaps you might come to the wed- 
 ding ! Wouldn't you like to see me in my brides- 
 maid's dress ? Oh, but what a silly thing of me 
 to say ! You will think me awfully — er — ^forward 
 and unmaidenly and all that, won't you ? And I 
 forgot that you don't approve of marriage. 
 
 John : Not on general grounds, that's all ; and 
 then only with regard to naval men. Lucky beg- 
 gars — ^those soldiers ! I say, do you really feel so 
 frightfully keen on the Army? 
 
 Mary : Of course I do ; but I think I like the 
 Navy better ! 
 
 John : That's right. Stick to that. 
 
 Mary : Yes, I always love the little middies so. 
 Do you know that one of yours with the curly 
 hair and blue eyes ? Isn't he too sweet for words ? 
 Impudent young monkey ! Do you know he 
 actually squeezed my hand when he was intro- 
 duced to me at the top of the gangway ? Wasn't 
 it daring of him ? 
 
 John (who happens to be in charge of the mid- 
 shipmen, to himself) : I'll see that he gets an 
 extra hour's physical drill to-morrow morning. 
 That'll teach him. 
 
 Mary : Oh, don't think me a nuisance, will 
 you, but this bracelet of mine is hurting dread- 
 
 127 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 fully, and I can't undo the clasp by myself. Would 
 you mind ? 
 
 John finds it necessary to get a purchase on 
 Mary's hand while getting to work on the bracelet 
 — ^which, by the way, has a perfectly loose 
 and easy clasp. He takes some time over the 
 job. 
 
 Mary : Do you know, I almost think you're 
 hurting more than the bracelet. How strong you 
 are. Tell me — do you often have tea-parties on 
 board ? 
 
 John : Fairly often. I don't generally take 
 part in them, though; they bore me stiff. 
 
 Mary (with ten -below-freezing hauteur) : Really I 
 I'm sorry. 
 
 John (on whom the hauteur has been entirely 
 thrown away because he didn't notice it) : But, 
 somehow, I've quite enjoyed myself this after- 
 noon. Dunno why it is, but it seems to be 
 different. 
 
 Mary : Perhaps it is because we have had a 
 little intelligent conversation, don't you think? 
 It is so rare that one finds any one who can talk 
 anything but mere frivol — ^any man, I mean. 
 
 John : Any girl, I was going to say ; but, as 
 you remark, this hasn't been quite the same as 
 other tea-parties, has it ? 
 
 Mary : I shall never forget it I Those choco- 
 late eclairs were lovely I 
 
 John (to himself) : Now, what the deuce did 
 she mean by that ? 
 
 128 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 Mary : Look 1 the others are getting their 
 coats ; it must be time to go. I must put mine 
 on, too. Oh, thank you I 
 
 « ♦ * ♦ « 
 
 (An Hour Later.) 
 
 John (to a messmate) : I say, do you think a 
 man can marry on a Ueutenant's pay ? 
 
 129 
 
15. Our Magazine 
 
 OUR Enthusiastic One, who is always evolving 
 new schemes in order to " put a little 
 ginger into things," as he poetically ex- 
 presses it, has a new idea for promoting the happi- 
 ness of the mess. He proceeds to unfold it as 
 follows : — 
 
 Enthusiast : I say, what about getting up a 
 mess paper ? Good scheme — eh — what ? We had 
 a jolly good one in my last ship 
 
 An Obstructionist : Oh, beat it ! We've heard 
 enough about the old Nonesuch ! 
 
 A Cheery One : Not at all. For my part, I 
 feel very much interested in hearing about it. 
 Tell us a little more about your ship's paper, will 
 you? 
 
 Enthusiast : Oh, weH, there isn't much to tell. 
 We called it the North Sea Times, and had it jelly- 
 graphed in the ship's office. 
 
 The Obstructionist : Who ran the thing ? 
 
 Enthusiast (modestly) : Well, as a matter of 
 fact, I myself was the editor. 
 
 The Obstructionist : I guessed as much 1 And 
 
 130 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 now, of course, you want to inflict a similar 
 atrocity on us ? 
 
 The Cheery One : Well, I call it a good egg. 
 Let's have one, by all means. What name could 
 we choose for it ? 
 
 A Facetious One : Call it the Watchers and 
 Waiters' Gazette, or Homeless Fleet Journal, 
 
 The Cheery One : Oh, I say, don't be depressed I 
 Why, you'll be so bucked when you read all the 
 funny bits in it that you won't want to go on 
 leave ! 
 
 Another Pessimist: Who's going to write all 
 the stuff? 
 
 Enthusiast : Why, you, for one. I hope that 
 everybody will try and write something so as to 
 make it thoroughly representative. That's what 
 killed the thing in my last ship; people chucked 
 their hands in after a time, and got too lazy to 
 write anything. In the end — at our last number, 
 that is — I had to write the whole blessed thing 
 myself, just like a proper editor of a real shore- 
 going paper. But I hadn't the time for it, and so 
 I had to let it drop. 
 
 The Facetious One : I don't mind writing " Aunt 
 Deborah's" column. You must have that; no 
 properly-conducted paper is complete without it ! 
 You know the sort of thing : " My dear chicks, — 
 I will tell you this week a pretty story of a pussy- 
 cat. This is all the space the editor will let me 
 have until next week. Your loving Aunt Deborah.' * 
 
 131 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 A Serious Member : I could write you a series 
 of articles on the new navigation ; it would be a 
 great help to our junior " snotties/' I shouldn't 
 want more than five or six pages in each number, 
 and I daresay about fifty articles would exhaust 
 all the more elementary part of the subject. 
 
 Enthusiast (dubiously, and already beginning to 
 experience the troubles of an editor's life) : Thank 
 you; I don't altogether think that that is quite 
 the sort of thing we should want. Perhaps if you 
 could condense your subject into, say, one page, 
 or, better still, half a page, and throw in a few 
 jokes with it, now ? 
 
 The Serious One (in a huff) : Oh, of course, if 
 you're just going to have a kind of tomfool paper 
 — I'd have you to know that the new navigation 
 is not a subject to be treated jestingly. 
 
 The Cheery One : I wouldn't mind writing some 
 poetry for you. I'm rather a dab at poetry; can 
 chuck it off my chest at the rate o' knots. How 
 would something of this sort do ? 
 
 Oh, here we are, the great Grand Fleet, 
 But not a German can we meet ; 
 They are so frightfully discreet— — 
 
 The Obstructionist : 
 
 And suffer greatly from cold feet 
 
 — Yow I Get off my face. Cheery 1 
 All : Hooray, a scrap 1 Come on, you take this 
 182 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 side. — Have at you for a scurril K-nave ! Look 
 
 out for those glasses 
 
 (At this point, as the reporters at a Peace 
 Conference say, " the meeting broke up amid 
 general confusion.") 
 
 18^ 
 
16. Our Debating Society 
 
 SOME energetic spirits in the mess have in- 
 augurated a Wardroom Debating Society. 
 This is the first meeting, and to celebrate 
 the occasion the Admiral and the Captain have 
 been invited as guests. The Society is formed on 
 strict Parliamentary lines, with speaker, secretary, 
 and other trimmings. A member has just con- 
 cluded the opening speech. 
 
 The Speaker (Lieut. Browne -Jones) : Gentlemen, 
 now that Mr. Dashblank has concluded his speech, 
 I will remind you that, by the rules of our Society, 
 no member may speak more than once, and no 
 speeches may last more than five minutes. The 
 subject, " Should Women be Allowed the Vote ? " 
 is now open to debate. 
 
 (Sits down. A dead silence follows for several 
 minutes. Then — ) 
 
 The Admiral (rising slowly from his chair) : 
 Well, as nobody seems inclined to speak, I may 
 as well try and say a few words on the subject — 
 (applause). It seems to me the women have done 
 deucedly well in this war, driving motors and 
 making munitions and all that sort of thing 
 
 134 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 The Captain (aside) : Not before we wanted 
 them, too 1 
 
 The Admiral: Eh? What's that you say? 
 
 The Captain (also rising) : I was merely re- 
 marking, sir, that we want all the munitions we 
 can possibly get. I don't care who makes them — 
 women or men. 
 
 The Admiral : Well, we've got enough now. 
 
 The Captain : I doubt it. 
 
 The Admiral : There's a certain limit. Come, 
 come 1 I remember when I was out in the Crimea, 
 in '54, when the forts replied to our fire. I was in 
 the old Himalaya then. 
 
 The Captain : Wasn't she re -named the Hibernia 
 afterwards ? 
 
 The Admiral : No ; that was the old Achilles 
 you're thinking about. We were, you may re- 
 member, the first ship in the Navy to introduce 
 armour. 
 
 The Captain: And a big mistake, too, in my 
 opinion. 
 
 The Admiral: Not at all. Why do you say 
 that? 
 
 The Captain : Because I'm against the principle 
 of armour altogether, except deck armour, perhaps. 
 
 The Admiral : Oh, you're thinking of long- 
 range actions. But all actions need not neces- 
 sarily be fought at extreme ranges. Suppose you 
 found yourself obliged to fight at close range, then, 
 where would your unarmoured ship be ? 
 
 The Captain: I should have better guns than 
 
 135 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 the other fellow; less weight on the ship's 
 side. 
 
 The Speaker (timidly) : The question before the 
 House is 
 
 The Captain : It's just hke tennis — a good hard 
 and rapid hitter has the game in his own hands, 
 and 
 
 The Admiral : Tennis — a girl's game I In my 
 young days, cricket was thought good enough. 
 Our wardroom eleven, now, in the old Nonesuch, 
 used to take on the best team they could put up 
 on shore at every place we went to ; and, by gad ! 
 sir, we licked 'em — licked 'em every time ! 
 
 The Captain : Well, sir, no doubt you had a 
 very fine team, but in my opinion cricket is better 
 to-day than ever it was. Remember the match 
 we played last year against the Holes's Hole XI ? 
 Where could you see finer batting and fielding 
 than that, eh ? 
 
 The Speaker : The question before the House 
 is 
 
 The Admiral : No, I can't agree with you. 
 Cricket has gone down, and do you know why? 
 Because young men nowadays are crazed about 
 motor-cycling. 
 
 The Captain : Well, you can't deny that motors 
 are a very useful invention. 
 
 The Admiral : Oh, yes ; I grant you that. I'm 
 not prejudiced. In fact, I'm very fond of motor- 
 ing myself. And I'm just going to buy a little 
 Ford-Fiat. 
 
 136 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 The Captain : I shouldn't do that, sir. If you 
 take my advice, you'll get a Tate car; they're by 
 far the best. 
 
 The Admiral : Do you think so now ? 
 
 The Speaker : The question 
 
 The Admiral : Yes, yes, of course. Votes for 
 Women ! Well, gentlemen, it has been a very 
 interesting debate. I hope we may have many 
 more such. What did you say, Mr. Speaker, was 
 the point in question ? 
 
 The Speaker (tactfully) : I think, sir, the most 
 pressing question now before the house is — Will 
 you have a whisky-and-soda ? I should Hke one 
 myself. 
 
 (The rest of the evening was spent in harmony.) 
 
 137 
 
17. The Morning Rate 
 
 THIS is really more of a monologue than a 
 dialogue. The speaker shall be nameless — 
 unless you like to call him the Awful 
 Example — partly because he can be found in more 
 ships than one, and partly because it is just pos- 
 sible that we are all of us a bit like him on occa- 
 sions. The scene is the breakfast -table, and the 
 time is a quarter to nine, just when the wardroom 
 servants are beginning to think about clearing 
 away. It is at this moment that the speaker 
 enters. 
 
 " Breakfast, please. Breakfast, I said I Give 
 me something to eat, quickly 1 Here have I been 
 shouting for the last ten minutes and can't get a 
 single thing ! Waiter ! 
 
 " What did you say, Jones — ' Good-morning ' ? 
 No, I do not think it is a good morning. I think 
 it is a very bad morning. I think it is a most 
 unpleasant morning. And even if it were a good 
 morning, I do not wish to have my attention 
 called to such a fact by my messmates at this 
 early hour 1 " 
 
 A Voice : Whoa, beauty I 
 
 138 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 " Waiter, this toast is as hard as a brick 1 
 Take it away and bring me some fresh ! " 
 
 Waiter : There isn't any more, sir. 
 
 " Send the messman to me at once — ^no, I'll see 
 him later. This matter wants going into thor- 
 oughly. The way the meals are run in this ship 1 
 And get me some more coffee ; this lot is stone- 
 cold." 
 
 A Voice (mildly remonstrating) : You know 
 you're a little late this morning; everythmg was 
 hot half an hour ago. 
 
 " And if I am late, isn't there a good reason for 
 it ? Wouldn't you be late, too, if you had passed 
 a sleepless night Hke I have ? It is perfectly im- 
 possible to get a wink of sleep in this ship. No 
 sooner had I dropped off than a gang of ruffians 
 assembled on deck, right over my head, with 
 brooms — or, I should say, with parts of brooms — 
 which they proceeded to fit together by hammer- 
 ing them on the deck. Just like a maxim gun, it 
 was, only about a million times louder. I dashed 
 up from my cabin in tny pyjamas — might have 
 caught my death of cold, and probably shall — and 
 spoke forcibly to the captain of the quarter-deck. 
 A nice fellow he is to be a petty-officer ! I intend 
 to put him in the report, and hope he gets dis- 
 rated. What do you think? I actually caught 
 sight of some of his men grinning at me, and he 
 had not sufficient command over them to prevent 
 such an outrage ! If I'm to be disturbed in the 
 dead of night by a mob of broom-thumping brutes, 
 
 139 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 with their idiotic faces convulsed in imbecile 
 grins ** 
 
 A Voice : But the hands didn't turn out until 
 seven o'clock ! 
 
 " H'm ! And what has that got to do with it ? 
 Would they have had any more consideration if 
 the hour had been five, or four, or three, or two, 
 or one ? Waiter, where are those eggs ? Are they 
 coming, or are they not ? " 
 
 Waiter : Sorry, sir, but you didn't order any 
 eggs. 
 
 " Didn't order any ! I distinctly remember 
 ordering them. And, besides, even if I didn't, 
 surely it stands to reason that I require some 
 breakfast ! . . . Hasn't the mail come yet ? Upon 
 my word, the postman gets later and later each 
 day. He's a useless ullage, that man, and ought 
 to go back to duty." 
 
 Waiter : Mail's been here some time, sir. 
 Three letters for you. 
 
 " H'm ! " (Opening a letter.) " Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Waiter, never mind about breakfast; you must 
 be wanting to clear away. By Jove ! a ripping 
 morning, isn't it ? Sunshine, and all that. There's 
 nothing like turning out early to make a man feel 
 fresh. If it hadn't been for a noise overhead, 
 which awoke me, I should have been bad-tempered 
 and mouldy, just like all you blighters. Blessed 
 if I don't give the captain of the quarter-deck 
 five bob for waking me ! " (Looks at his letter 
 again.) " Well, there's one thing to be said for 
 
 140 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 this ship — ^no one need be ashamed of asking 
 people on board. Decent food, and a decent 
 place to bring people to. I say, anybody, all of 
 you, help me out, will you? I've got a luncheon 
 party at one o'clock. Will you all come to it ? " 
 
 141 
 
18. Chinaside 
 
 THE leading hand of this dialogue may really 
 hail from any of the foreign stations ; as 
 a general type, he comes from them all, 
 but the one from Chinaside is, perhaps, the most 
 virulent of the lot, and so we will let him spread 
 himself a bit. It is just as well to let him, because 
 you cannot stop him. 
 
 Homewaters : By Jove ! it can blow in this 
 place ! It's as much as you can do to stand on 
 deck ! 
 
 Chinabird : Blow ! You call this blowing ? You 
 ought to have been out in Hong-Kong in a typhoon. 
 Why, I've seen a man suddenly taken up by the 
 wind from the main street of Kowloon and landed 
 on the verandah of the Peak Hotel ! Fact ! 
 
 Homewaters : H'm ! Well, this wind is quite 
 enough for me. It's a confounded nuisance. I 
 made arrangements to get a little shooting this 
 afternoon, but it's no use going in this weather. 
 
 Chinabird : What sort of shooting ? 
 
 Homewaters : Oh, the wily snipe. 
 
 Chinabird: Snipe? Snipe, did you say? I 
 only wish I had the snipe -shooting now that I 
 used to get on the Yang-tse in nought -seven. 
 
 142 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 One morning, I went out before breakfast and 
 bagged forty. 
 
 Homewaters : How many guns were there ? 
 
 Chinabird : Oh, only myself ! 
 
 Homewaters : What, twenty couple of snipe to 
 your own gun ? 
 
 Chinabird : Forty, I said ; forty couple, of 
 course. Ah, the shootin' we used to get in the 
 old Kent ! Duck ! I give you my word I've seen 
 the skies simply black with duck ! There was one 
 Chink boy who always used to go out with me. 
 He knew just when the duck were flightin' ; used 
 to come on board and ask for me, and off we 
 would go. Rarely came back without the whaler 
 full up to the gunwale with duck I 
 
 Homewaters : Well, it sounds very nice, but 
 meanwhile I must put up with what I can get 
 here, if only the weather will ease up a little. 
 Anyhow, I think I'll go and tell my servant to 
 get my gear ready. 
 
 Chinabird: Better see to it yourself; he'll be 
 sure to forget something. Now, the only servants 
 in the world that are any use at all are the boys 
 you get on the China station. Nothing Hke a 
 Chink for a good servant 1 Our fellow that we 
 had — Ah-Foo — I tell you, there was nothing that 
 chap couldn't do. You only had to say, for 
 instance, " Ah-Foo, twenty-piecee people coming 
 lunch one hour, plenty good chop, can do ? " He 
 would always say, " Can do, sah," and you could 
 be certain of sitting down to a topping lunch 1 
 
 148 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Or, supposing you wanted to get hold of some old 
 Ming ware — Ah-Foo would produce you any 
 amount in less than no time 1 
 
 Homewaters : Very interesting, but what I'm 
 worrying about is — supposing this beastly weather 
 clears, and I do manage to get a week-end; how 
 am I going to do it on one-and-ninepence, and pay 
 for my cartridges out of it, too ? 
 
 Chinabird : That's the curse of it. Being in 
 England, your pay always runs out to a clinch 
 long before the end of the month. Now, out in 
 China, I used to make two or three quid a month 
 out of the exchange alone ! You see, you get 
 paid in dollars out there, and all you have to do 
 is to remit to your bank at home, and then draw a 
 cheque on the local bank, and if the exchange is 
 good you can make any amount. Why, when we 
 were cruising up and down between Wei-Hai and 
 Shanghai, you could just go on making money all 
 the time, owing to the different rates of exchange I 
 
 Homewaters : I shall go ashore and change at 
 the club, I think. 
 
 Chinabird : Club ? Pot-house, you mean I Most 
 depressing places, the clubs home here — even the 
 best of 'em. You ought to see the Shanghai Club, 
 or the one at Hong-Kong I Some comfort about 
 those, I tell you 1 Very good one at Singapore, 
 too; anywhere, in fact, on the station. China's 
 the place, after all 1 Everything's good out on 
 that station. Fine people, the Chinese. Some of 
 the best times I've had in the Service have been 
 
 144 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 out Chinaside. You can't beat it ! Beautiful 
 station for food, for sport, games — everything ! I 
 only wish I was out in China now 1 
 
 Homewaters (even a worm will turn) : I wish to 
 Heaven you were I 
 
 145 
 
19. Knuhhly Bits 
 
 TIME, 9 a.m. H.M. cruiser Sniffancatchit has 
 just moored, after five days at sea. 
 
 Lieut. Brown : Well, let's hope we shall 
 be allowed a day or two's peace after flogging the 
 blighted ocean perpetual and incessant. I'm fed 
 up on 'Un-'unting. Who's coming ashore this 
 afternoon ? 
 
 Lieut, Jones : What's the good of going ashore 
 in a grisly spot like this ? Better live in the 
 midst of a what -it's -name than dwell in this 
 horrible thingamajig, as the poet says. 
 
 Lieut, Brown: Oh, I dunno. We might try and 
 get a car, and run out to the Swish golf course ; 
 it's only about seventeen miles. 
 
 Lieut. Jones : Right -o ! You pay for the car, 
 and I'll put up the tea. That's fair, eh ? 
 
 Lieut. Brown : Je ne pense pas ! But I'll cut 
 you for it, if you like. What's that, signalman ? 
 Bring it here. 
 
 (Signalman solemnly presents his signal pad, 
 and if this were the movies you would now see 
 thrown on the screen — ) 
 
 " Sniffancatchit to complete to full stowage 
 immediately. Collier will be alongside at 9.30." 
 146 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 The silent cinema would also save you from 
 hearing Lieut. Brown's remarks, let alone Lieut. 
 Jones's, which were worse still. 
 
 Lieut. Brown : Suffering Mike I And I had the 
 middle watch 1 What jolly times you gay sailors 
 do have ! 
 
 Lieut. Jones : Vive le Hig Lif I I bet you a 
 dollar we shall have to sweep some blighted collier 
 that's been playing Fringes of the Fleet with half 
 the ships in the harbour already. Just our luck I 
 
 Lieut. Brown : Or else have to break bulk. I 
 
 don't know which is worse. 
 
 * ♦ ♦ * ♦ 
 
 (Some hours later, during the dinner-hour.) 
 
 Guns : Who's the officer in charge of the fore- 
 hold? You, Torps, isn't it? Well, if I were to 
 attempt to epitomise your efforts during this 
 forenoon, I should say you had made a proper 
 pot-mess of it I 
 
 Torps : You would ? I, on the other hand, not 
 having been brought up at Whale Island, but 
 amongst gentlemen, beg to inform you that 
 
 (If any misguided people should think of acting 
 this dialogue as a drawing-room play, I might say 
 that the stage directions at this point are : They 
 scrap. Several chairs are broken. Guns finally 
 falls to the deck, whereupon three other officers 
 sit on his chest and stomach and call for beer.) 
 
 Guns (much cheered after the pleasant inter- 
 lude) : Well, what did we do in the last hour? 
 
 Torps (in the Harry Tate manner) : Oh, a 
 
 147 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 couple of hundred or so — ^t wo -fifty or three 
 hundred I 
 
 Cruns : Torps, if I have to speak to you again 
 
 What did we do, really ? 
 
 Torps : One -twenty-three, making four hundred 
 and eighty up to date. 
 
 Guns : And we've got to take in seven hundred 
 altogether I What's the good of it ? We only 
 burn it when we've got it ! 
 
 Torps : Nasty, black, messy stuff, too I To 
 look at me now, you would scarcely believe that 
 I was one of the handsomest fellows — ^if not the 
 handsomest — ^in the British Navy, would you? 
 Remove this outer coating that now enshrouds my 
 face, and you would behold the Pride of George 
 Street and the Palm Court's Delight I 
 
 Guns : I should keep it on if I were you. 
 
 (Stage directions much the same as before.) 
 « 4c ♦ * ♦ 
 
 (Some hours later, the collier has just shoved 
 off, but several hoists are still stacked up on the 
 upper deck, where the playful sailormen are 
 already beginning to make merry with hoses.) 
 
 Lieut. Jones : Well, thank goodness, that's over 1 
 And when we've had the usual rude signal from 
 the Admiral for not beating the flagship with 
 about half her hands, we may settle down in 
 peace and quiet for a few days. 
 
 Lieut, Brown : Yes, and for being honest and 
 not faking our returns 1 In the flagship they add 
 on the date of the month and the commander's 
 
 148 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 age to the hourly average, and Ah, here is 
 
 the signal I 
 
 (Enter a signal man.) 
 
 Lieut. Jones (reads) : " H.M.S. Sniffancatchit will 
 take in stores and provisions immediately, and 
 will then proceed to sea." Me for the gay life ! 
 Oh, we have had a pleasant day, haven't we ? 
 
 Lieut Brown : Much nicer than golf, isn't it ? 
 
 149 
 
20. The War Game 
 
 THIS being the final dialogue of the series, the 
 author, in a generous mood, is giving you 
 what practically amounts to a four-act 
 play. And there is a moral lesson thrown in 
 gratis. The dramatis personce are : Males, Lieut. 
 Smith and Friend ; female (if she will pardon the 
 expression). Lady Eglantine Wildrose. Now we're 
 away.) 
 
 Episode I. — Scene, A Wardroom 
 
 Lieut. Smith : I say, what is one to do about 
 this ? The skipper has just sent along a chit to 
 ask if I'll come and play the war game with him 
 in his cabin after dinner. 
 
 And Friend: You'll have to show a little 
 interest, I suppose ; there's no getting out of it. 
 Is he very keen on it ? 
 
 Lieut. Smith : Keen on it ? What, on the war 
 game? I should just say he was. He spends 
 half his time, when he's not on the bridge, pushing 
 about a lot of beastly little bits of brass on a 
 board and working out problems. Disgusting, I 
 
 150 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 call it 1 And I had promised to play Van John 
 this evening. 
 
 And Friend : Oh, well, you'll have to make the 
 best of it. Can't you work up any amusement 
 out of the game ? 
 
 Lieut. Smith : Not a little bit. I don't mind 
 fighting Germans — if they ever give us the chance 
 — but to go fooling about with a silly toy — a mere 
 parlour game, I call it. Pooh I 
 
 And Friend (who is of rather a studious dis- 
 position) : Well, if you can't get the real thing, 
 you must make the best of what you can get; 
 and, besides, there's always something to be 
 leamt, I suppose ? 
 
 « ♦ * « « 
 
 Episode II. — On the Quarter-deck during a 
 Dance 
 
 Lieut, Smith : Do you really mean that ? 
 
 Lady E. : Silly boy I What a question to ask ! 
 How can I tell what I mean ? 
 
 Lieut. Smith : Then I shall think you mean 
 what I hope you mean. But you know what I 
 mean, don't you? 
 
 Lady E. : Oh, how frightfully complicated you 
 are getting, with all those " means " ; you're 
 making my head ache terribly ! 
 
 Lieut. Smith : No I Am I, really ? Oh, I say, 
 I am sorry I But, Lady Eglantine — I say, Eglan- 
 tine — ^you don't mind my calling you that, do you ? 
 
 15X 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 LadyE.: What? 
 
 Lieut. Smith : " Eglantine." 
 
 Lady E. (demurely) : That is what I was 
 christened. 
 
 Lieut, Smith : Eglantine, do you really mean 
 that I may write to you ? 
 
 Lady E. : It would always give me great 
 pleasure to hear of your welfare. 
 
 Lieut, Smith : Oh, skittles ! — No, I didn't mean 
 to say that. But look here, Eglantine (taking her 
 hand), will you write to me sometimes, too ? 
 
 Lady E. : I won't promise. 
 
 Lieut. Smith : But you will, won't you ? 
 
 Lady E. : Do you really want me to ? 
 
 (This episode really proceeds to a further length, 
 but sufficient of it has been given just to show its 
 general trend.) 
 
 Episode III. — In Lieut. Smith's Cabin 
 (Six Months Later.) 
 
 Lieut, Smith : Oh, it can't be true ! It's 
 impossible ! 
 
 And Friend : Let's read it ; I haven't seen it 
 yet. (Takes a newspaper from the table and 
 reads.) " A marriage has been arranged and will 
 shortly take place between Lady Eglantine Wild- 
 rose, third daughter of the Earl of Wildrose, and 
 Mr. Pogram K. Hunks, of Detroit, U.S.A." Well, 
 old man, what about it ? 
 
 152 
 
Wardroom Dialogues 
 
 Lieut. Smith : Engaged ! And to such a man ! 
 
 And Friend : Well, why not ? 
 
 Lieut. Smith : That girl 1 Eglantine ! Don't 
 you remember her? Only six months ago she 
 was at our dance on board ! 
 
 And Friend : Oh, yes, I remember. But I don't 
 see why you should feel so cut up about it. You 
 didn't expect her to become engaged to you, did 
 you? 
 
 Lieut. Smith (groaning) : But if you only knew 
 — ^the things she said to me — ^the letters I've had 
 from her 1 
 
 And Friend: Tough luck, old man, but buck 
 up; you'll get over it ! 
 
 Lieut. Smith : But why — ^why — why did she 
 
 (And so on.) 
 * • * « • 
 
 Episode IV. — In the Captain's Cabin 
 
 (Some six months later still.) 
 
 And Friend : I suppose the old man will be 
 here presently? 
 
 Lieut. Smith : Yes ; do you think we have time 
 for a short game before he comes ? 
 
 And Friend : Why, you're getting quite an 
 enthusiast about the war game now ! 
 
 Lieut. Smith : Well, I quite recognise what you 
 used to say about it — " If you can't get the real 
 thing you must make the best of what you can 
 
 153 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 get ; and, besides, there's always something to be 
 learnt." Do you remember saying that ? 
 
 And Friend : I do. But how did you come to 
 realise the truth of my weighty words ? 
 
 Lieut. Smith : By being one of the pieces. 
 
 And Friend : I don't quite follow. 
 
 Lieut, Smith : Don't you remember Mrs. Hunks 
 — Lady Eglantine that was ? She gave me an 
 able exposition of — the war game I 
 
 154 
 
XVI, A Floating Village 
 
 OUR ship, you must understand, is something 
 more than a machine for fighting Germans ; 
 it is a floating village, with all the tradi- 
 tions, the class distinctions, the humours and the 
 tragedies that are found in any village ashore. 
 We have our politicians, our Socialists, our foot- 
 ball matches and our feasts; the upper deck 
 takes the place of the village green for an evening 
 stroll when the day's work is over, and at such 
 times an engine-room artificer would no more 
 think of walking with a stoker petty-officer, or a 
 sergeant of marines with a leading signalman, 
 than the local builder and contractor of Wapshott- 
 Monachorum in Wessex would be seen in company 
 with the local butcher. And the feeling between 
 Wapshott-Monachorum and King's-Pridlington is 
 exactly akin to the emulation between our ship 
 and our next astern in the line. 
 
 We have our privileges, our unwritten laws, 
 with which no wise man would dream of interfering ; 
 we pass censure or approval quite independently 
 of the decisions of constituted authority ; what is 
 considered flagrantly wrong by the captain or the 
 commander is not necessarily condemned by our 
 
 155 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 mess -deck villagers, who also disapprove obstinately 
 of many of the customs they see permitted, though, 
 like the people of Wapshott-Monachorum and 
 King's-Pridlington, they very wisely keep their 
 thoughts to themselves for the most part. 
 
 In some minor matters we are quite open oppon- 
 ents of the legally constituted authorities ; in- 
 stance the case of Petty-officer Quigley, who never 
 troubled to conceal his disdain for doctors, even 
 though they were ornamented with three rows of 
 red and gold lace. The whole science and practice 
 of medicine as authorised by diplomas was, accord- 
 ing to Quigley, nothing but a gigantic conspiracy 
 for deceiving the public. He himself placed all 
 his faith in a preparation labelled " Blake's ex- 
 tract," which he considered so far superior to all 
 " doctors' trade " that the matter wasn't worth 
 discussing. Blake's Extract, it seemed, was 
 equally efficacious for external and internal com- 
 plaints ; when rubbed well in with a piece of engine- 
 room waste it was an excellent embrocation and 
 would also cure skin diseases, while for rheumaticy 
 joints it was without an equal. Taken internally 
 it was good for all kinds of pains in the lower-deck, 
 and unrivalled as a preventative against Hun- 
 pox — our local name for German measles. Petty- 
 officer Quigley' s implicit confidence in the extract 
 led him to think more highly of its powers than even 
 the label claimed — ^though this was a fairly far- 
 reaching document — and he induced a warrant 
 officer, Gunner Smorfie, to try it for thinness of 
 
 156 
 
A Floating Village 
 
 hair. Unfortunately, this was beyond the scope 
 of the famous preparation ; but the extract, 
 though faihng in the desired direction, certainly 
 tried to do something to justify its existence; 
 what it did was to clear Mr. Smorfie's head of every 
 single hair still remaining and to stain his scalp a 
 rich walnut colour. The unhappy victim had to be 
 excused Divisions for three days until the colour 
 wore off; since on the first morning at the order 
 " Off caps 1 " there was such a general and irre- 
 pressible titter from the assembled ship's company 
 that the chaplain found it almost impossible to go 
 on with the prayers to be used at sea. 
 
 Mr. Smorfie's chagrin at this untoward occur- 
 rence was all the greater for that he imagined the 
 incident would in some way interfere with his 
 promotion to mate. For you must understand 
 that there are continual changes in social position 
 going on in our ship — ^we are always trying to 
 " better ourselves," just as people are in the village 
 ashore. I think that this is not generally under- 
 stood; people imagine that a ship's company 
 consists of fixed ratings who remain in their same 
 position until the ship is paid off. But in reality 
 there is as much constant change as in a river or 
 a wheat -field ; the boy of to-day may be a leading 
 seaman in a couple of years, and in less than that 
 time a leading seaman may be transformed into a 
 wardroom officer. 
 
 Mr. Smorfie's promotion came to him in due 
 course; but already he had been nicknamed 
 
 157 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 " Mr. Brownhead " by the lower-deck, a name 
 which still stuck to him after his elevation to the 
 wardroom; indeed, both he and ourselves became 
 so used to the sound of it that it was an effort to 
 remember which was his real name ; and the final 
 cachet was placed upon the new surname when our 
 Admiral's wife — dear inconsequent and simple- 
 minded soul — ^thinking to put him at his ease, 
 said, " Do come and have tea with me one day this 
 week, Mr. Brownhead 1 " 
 
 158 
 
XVII. Backbone of the Navy 
 
 IF you were to come on board our ship, the 
 very first thing you would notice would 
 probably be the altered values of your old 
 accepted standards. It is as if a German were to 
 leave his Fatherland — as most of them would be 
 only too glad to do at the present time, I expect 
 — ^and find that his sacred twelve -pfennige mark 
 was only accepted at the value of about seven- 
 pence. 
 
 You know, for example, Mr. Stuttaford, in your 
 own parish ? He lives in one of those little red- 
 brick houses beyond the bridge ; perhaps you are 
 better acquainted with his wife than you are with 
 Mr. Stuttaford himself, since he is only at home on 
 rare occasions. At such times you see him, a 
 staid, respectable gentleman, wearing a short coat 
 with brass buttons, and a peaked cap with a gold 
 badge in front. He is spoken of vaguely in 
 the village as "a naval officer," and is very 
 much looked up to. Indeed, his family is of 
 some importance and social standing. The eldest 
 daughter teaches in the Sunday school; the red- 
 brick house boasts not only of a gramophone, but 
 also of a piano, and the younger girls practise on 
 
 159 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 it very assiduously. One of these, moreover, is 
 learning painting from the local art master, and is 
 regarded in the village as something of a prodigy ; 
 in fact, the coolness between the Stuttaford family 
 and old Mr. Probus, the people's warden, originated 
 entirely in the latter having referred to the artistic 
 Miss Stuttaford as " the prodigal daughter." It 
 was a well-meant attempt to turn a delicate com- 
 pliment in keeping with his ecclesiastical office, 
 but Mrs. Stuttaford could never be brought to see 
 that he meant " prodigy " all the time. 
 
 Enough, however, on the position of Mr. Stutta- 
 ford in his native home ; you really know this better 
 than I do. It is of hi« position on board ship that 
 I wish to write. 
 
 Let us watch him, first, at admiral's inspection — 
 a function which takes place at indefinite intervals 
 when we cannot manage to prevent it any longer. 
 There are many other details of various natures — 
 sad, humorous, and purely frightful — connected 
 with this inspection, which need not be mentioned 
 now. The scene in which I would present Mr. 
 Stuttaford to you is on the quarter-deck. 
 
 Here, behind the shelter of a small table, stands 
 the admiral in full panoply of frock-coat and 
 sword, and surrounded by a sort of guard of 
 honour composed of the flag-captain, the com- 
 mander, the fleet paymaster, and last, but by no 
 means least, the master-at-arms. 
 
 On the deck, in front of the table, is inscribed in 
 white chalk a circle of about two feet in diameter. 
 
 160 
 
Backbone of the Navy 
 
 All " the hands " are marshalled in ranks 
 by hundreds — like Anglo-Saxons — ^and foremost 
 amongst the ranks of the chief petty officers 
 stands Mr. Stuttaford. (Fancy calling him " a 
 hand *' I) He steps forward from the ranks in his 
 turn, advances till he stands exactly in the chalked 
 circle, where he salutes smartly and announces 
 that he is Thomas Jonathan Stuttaford, chief 
 bos'n's mate, G.I., three badges. And later in the 
 day you may very likely hear our boatswain, Mr. 
 Gk>ble, sending the messenger-boy to " tell Stutta- 
 ford I want him at once." You begin now to 
 think that the bottom of the world is falling out I 
 You would never have dared to say anything but 
 *' Mister " to him. Yet here it is just plain Stutta- 
 ford, and the summons could hardly be more 
 peremptory, " tell him I want him at once 1 " 
 
 Wonderful to relate, Stuttaford actually obeys ; 
 and, what is more, he is a patient listener while 
 the boatswain talks roundly to him in language any- 
 thing but complimentary, ending by the remark 
 that he is a proper ullage, and has made a pot-mess 
 of the whole show. 
 
 But, bless you, if you were to stay a Httle longer 
 with .us you would get to know that Mr. Goble 
 himself has occasionally to endure just such another 
 tirade — he calls it a " strafing " nowadays — from 
 Lieutenant Jones, who in turn gets it from Com- 
 mander Brown, who has his rub-down from 
 Captain Smith, who is hauled over the coals 
 by Rear-Admiral Robinson, who finally catches 
 M 161 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 it from Admiral Sir Browne Robinson Smythe- 
 Johnnes. 
 
 And you would most likely go back to your quiet- 
 home on shore feeling that, in spite of all the topsy- 
 turvydom of the Navy your early impressions were, 
 after all, correct, and that Mr. Stuttaford is really 
 a representative of a class that is the backbone of 
 the Navy — a staid, reUable, upright man, invaluable 
 as an example to the youngsters, and able to pre- 
 serve his own proper dignity upon proper occa- 
 sions and to drop it when need be ; which is a matter 
 that shore -goers are not, as a rule, quite so quick to 
 learn. 
 
 162 
 
XVIII, The Story of Job 
 
 FROM the highest to the lowest of us we are 
 all in the same boat; not merely literally 
 — ^though we should call this a ship, not 
 a boat — but also in the metaphorical sense. 
 From the admiral down to the dusty boy — 
 whose more high-sounding official title is ship's 
 steward's assistant — we all suffer identical incon- 
 veniences, the unavoidable accompaniments of the 
 naval service. I need not dwell on the unpleasant 
 fact that even the highest rank does not confer 
 immunity to mal de mer ; sufficient for present 
 purposes to emphasise the fact that we all get 
 exactly the same amount of leave. 
 
 The ship was favoured by the Olympians with 
 the rare gift of a whole week's leave not very long 
 ago.. And in the special train that raced merrily 
 westwards sat the admiral in a reserved first-class 
 compartment, as happy as a boy let loose from 
 school ; also, in a third-class carriage in the after- 
 part of the train, along with nine of his mess- 
 mates, sat Job Rossiter, O.D. (which, though 
 you would hardly guess it, stands for ordinary 
 seaman). Job was performing the extremely 
 difficult feat of playing " Keep the home fires 
 
 168 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 burning ! " on the mouth-organ while his cheeks 
 were crammed full with ham sandwich. He had 
 been rated only the previous day, having then 
 reached the age of eighteen years, and he was 
 going " On Leaf." So he, too, was happy — as 
 happy as the admiral. 
 
 Now, it happened that Job Rossiter, O.D. and 
 the admiral were inhabitants of the same village ; 
 the admiral being, in private life, the squire of the 
 place. And at the big house there lived a pretty 
 tweeny-maid, named Emmeline Pettigrew, with 
 whom our Job became acquainted during his brief 
 leave, and so great was the mutual attraction that 
 he even went to the length of walking out with 
 her on two occasions. 
 
 Then came the sad return from such pleasant 
 dalliance, and the postal officials had one more 
 pair of correspondents to add to their labours. 
 
 " Do you know I have taken quite a liking to 
 you," wrote Job, in a moment of effusiveness. 
 He was a cautious lad by nature. He then pro- 
 ceeded with the more prosaic statement that he 
 would like a " parcle " from time to time, and 
 suggested an exchange of " pothoes," which are 
 not, as you might perhaps think, gardening tools, 
 but merely counterfeit presentments of the absent 
 object of affection. 
 
 Emmeline Pettigrew, however, while as modest 
 as she was pretty, belonged to that resourceful 
 class of people who think the world will go round 
 all the better if you give it a push. Who says 
 
 164 
 
The Story of J oh 
 
 that woman has no part in love-making? In 
 her reply letter she suggested that she and Job 
 should become engaged. 
 
 This was taking matters too much at the rush 
 for our shy and cautious Job. " I think we are 
 both of us much too young for that sort of thing,'* 
 wrote back the judicious youth. 
 
 Then all the trouble started I After a fortnight's 
 silence Emmeline wrote to say that she was going 
 with a sergeant home on leave from the Front, and 
 that he was very anxious for her to become engaged 
 to him. 
 
 Do you know, I even have a tiny doubt whether 
 there really was a sergeant at all ! Such is the 
 depravity of the female heart that — well, well, 
 perhaps I may be wrong, after all. 
 
 Job, though, entertained no doubts on the sub- 
 ject, and naturally — you know what men are — ^the 
 great over-mastering desire of his life from that 
 moment was to become affianced to Emmeline. 
 
 He wrote and said so. But she, from some 
 motive which I shall not attempt to analyse, 
 would have none of him . 
 
 Sudden downfall of Job. He was adrift from 
 his watch three times in one week. He disobeyed 
 the orders of his petty officer. He had to muster 
 his bag on account of glaring deficiencies in his 
 kit. He was insolent to the officer of the watch 
 when taken before him to answer for his misdeeds. 
 In short, he took a headlong plunge down the road 
 to ruin, 
 
 165 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Commander's report ; captain's report. Number 
 Ten punishment. Cells. More cells. Even the 
 captain, wise man as he was, could make nothing 
 of him. 
 
 Up before the captain again ; and this time Job, 
 apparently on the point of bursting into tears, 
 requested to be allowed to see the admiral. 
 
 An unusual request, indeed 1 But then you 
 don't know our admiral. The interview was 
 granted, and what took place at it I can only guess. 
 
 I rather fancy that the admiral's wife was told 
 off for a job — ^the job of bringing young Emmeline 
 to her bearings. 
 
 At any rate, I gather that the affair took a 
 satisfactory turn. Job is all smiles these days. 
 " The admiral has ackshally promised to let us be 
 married from his house," he told me, *' and to give 
 Emmeline away himself as soon as I get rated 
 leading seaman I " 
 
 Job is once more the smartest fellow in his 
 division, and looks forward to being rated A.B. 
 before the year is out. 
 
 166 
 
XIX, The Clean Up. 
 
 OUR floating village has its periodical clean- 
 up, much in the same way as its parallel 
 community ashore ; only in our case it 
 comes, perhaps, a little more frequently, and we do 
 put into practice the old adage — 
 
 If each before his own door swept 
 The village would be clean. 
 
 We do it because we have to. And, of course, 
 we get to like it in time. Life in a crowded man- 
 of-war would quickly become intolerable unless 
 all dirt were rigorously excluded. Indeed, we go 
 rather to extremes, and give to the word " dirt '* 
 its strictest interpretation as " matter in the 
 wrong place." 
 
 To illustrate this, I need only quote the case of a 
 regular old sea-dog of a captain, who was once in 
 command of a smart ship, a man of splendid sea- 
 manlike qualities, but also of uncertain temper. 
 There was, in those days, an evolution — ^that is to 
 say, a drill known as " prepare for battle," accord- 
 ing to which the most meticulous preparations had 
 to be made. Splinter-nets were rigged on the 
 upper deck, tallies inscribed "to be thrown over- 
 
 167 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 board " or "to be sent ashore/' had to be tied to 
 every article unnecessary for use in action — ^and, 
 in short, so many different operations had to be 
 carried out that two whole days were officially 
 allowed for the preparation. 
 
 Eaiowing his captain's sensitiveness — ^not to say 
 irritability — the commander took extra pains 
 over the job, and when he had made everything 
 ready reported to the captain : " Ship ready for 
 inspection, sir.'* 
 
 The captain appeared on deck, and went round 
 the ship, looking into every hole and corner, above 
 and below, " but never a word spake he 1 " 
 
 After spending about two hours in this silent 
 review, he turned finally to the commander and 
 barked out : " When you're properly prepared for 
 battle I'll inspect the ship ! " — and disappeared 
 once more into his cabin. 
 
 The unhappy executive officer then spent three 
 nerve-racking days trying to discover what was 
 wrong. He asked all the other officers, but nobody 
 could discover any signs of omission or commission 
 till finally a horny old quartermaster suggested 
 that perhaps the trouble might be centred in a 
 loose end of rope that had become detached from 
 a splinter-net and was lying on the deck below it. 
 
 In despair at finding any other cause for com- 
 plaint, the commander once more reported " Ship 
 ready for inspection, sir," with much fear and 
 trembling. 
 
 Again the captain went his silent rounds; and 
 
 168 
 
The Clean Up 
 
 after as long a time as before he turned to his 
 commander, and this time said briefly, " Carry 
 on I" 
 
 It was just this loose rope's-end, then, that had 
 been the cause of his former disapproval ! 
 
 But one rope's -end lying about would probably 
 lead to others ; and not rope's-ends alone, but all 
 sorts of other things would follow suit; so the 
 crusty captain was perhaps not altogether in the 
 wrong I 
 
 Our speciality, however, in the cleaning line is 
 scrubbing ! You probably know that the sailor's 
 wife keeps her floors whiter than any one else in 
 the village, especially when her husband is home 
 on leave ; that is because he does the scrubbing ! 
 He is so used to it, you see, and can't abide to have 
 his decks at home looking any less white and 
 spotless than those of his ship. 
 
 Then, in addition, we always have an extra 
 special clean-up for Sundays. In fact, in some 
 ships we start doing this on Friday, and it lasts 
 right up to just before Divisions on Sunday 
 morning. 
 
 Once upon a time there was a dirty sailor. 
 There couldn't have been more than one, so I 
 won't tell you his name, but just designate him 
 as Bill Buggins. He wouldn't wash himself, he 
 wouldn't keep his clothes clean, and, worst of all, 
 the part of the ship he was required to look after 
 was — well, really 1 
 
 Reproofs and minor punishments had no effect 
 
 169 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 whatever upon him. " Buggins," said the captain, 
 " you're a disgrace to the ship 1 " But did Bill 
 care for this ? Not he 1 " Seven days lO.A.," said 
 the commander, and said it several times ; but 
 Bill Buggins seemed to really hke doing 10. A. 
 
 At last Bill's own mess took the matter up — 
 with the P.O. at their head. " Bill," they said, 
 " we don't blame you, we pities you ; you're a 
 pore, onfortunate creature wot has never been 
 larned proper, that's wot you are ! Now, we're 
 going to give 'ee the eddication you've missed in 
 your young days ! A bounce of hexample is worth 
 a pound of pretences, so 'tis said; and we're goin' 
 to let 'ee have double allowance — two ounces of 
 best yellow soap, some good, fine scouring sand, 
 and a nice bit o' canvas to put it on with ! " 
 
 The unhappy Bill was thereupon treated to a 
 right down thorough good cleaning, first with his 
 clothes on, and later, as these suffered somewhat 
 in the process, on his vile body ! He spluttered 
 and fought, but it was all no good. Cleaned he 
 had to be, and cleaned he was I 
 
 170 
 
XX. Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 1. The Gardeners, 
 
 NO ; I must not say exactly where the garden 
 was situated ; for the Censorship forms a 
 hedge much more efficient than the one 
 which surrounds the garden itself, since there is no 
 breaking through the Censorship, whereas in the 
 case of the garden-hedge those piratical Destroyer 
 fellows — but wait a bit, I will come to that pre- 
 sently. 
 
 There can be no harm, at any rate, in saying that 
 the garden was on an island, and that the island 
 lies " somewhere in the North Sea." 
 
 The island had never boasted of a garden before, 
 in all the million odd years of its existence ; all 
 the energies of its soil had aimed at nothing more 
 ambitious than a few tired oats and half-hearted 
 potatoes ; and if an island has any sentiment at all, 
 it must have been a tremendous surprise for it 
 to find a portion of its surface transformed into a 
 garden; something like a young thing who has 
 been in the back row of the chorus for forty 
 years would feel if suddenly picked to play leading 
 lady. 
 
 171 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 The whole idea emanated from the Rear- Admiral 
 Commanding the Seventh Sub-division of the 
 Nineteenth Battle Squadron — thereinafter called 
 the Admiral, for short. A fancy picture in the 
 Lusiige Blatter — yes, we do see the Hun papers 
 occasionally — in which a British battleship was 
 depicted as tied up alongside a wall and dressed 
 with window-boxes and other garden-stuff, to 
 make the easily-gulled Deutschers beheve that our 
 ships behave just as theirs actually do behave 
 — (you can commence this thrilling serial sentence 
 here) — ^inspired him with the notion. 
 
 " What -Ho 1 " (or words to that effect) said 
 the Admiral, *' not a bad idea at all 1 Let's have 
 a garden." 
 
 " Why not? "said the Flag-Captain. 
 
 "I'm all for it," said the Commander. 
 
 " Ripping idea," said the First-Lieutenant. 
 
 " — " said the Watch-keepers, in the sheltered 
 seclusion of the wardroom, knowing full well that 
 they would be lurked for the digging. And so 
 they were. They made an honest endeavour to 
 drag the doctors, paymasters, engineers, and the 
 chaplain into it ; pointing out that gardening was 
 ripping sport and top-hole exercise, and the finest 
 way of spending an afternoon that was ever in- 
 vented. One would have thought, to hear them 
 talk, that only an unkind fate had prevented them 
 from being professional gardeners and had turned 
 them into naval officers just out of spite. 
 
 But the others were not so easily persuaded. 
 
 172 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 "No," they said; "we don't need the exercise; 
 our muscles are formed ; we won't deprive you of 
 any of the joys of gardening.'* 
 
 And because the garden was originated by the 
 Olympians it was named the Garden of Allah; 
 but because of the various excuses to which it 
 gave rise on wet afternoons or fine afternoons, 
 when the weather was either too beastly or too 
 glorious to go gardening, it was also named the 
 Garden of Lies. 
 
 The first step was to buy about a bushelful of 
 books on gardening, of which the one that seemed 
 the popular favourite was a book called The Back 
 Garden Beautiful — ^though why the author couldn't 
 call it " The Beautiful Back Garden " is more than 
 I can say. Also it seemed a little inappropriate 
 here, for this garden of ours was scarcely a back 
 garden, except in the sense that it lay at the Back 
 o' Beyond. 
 
 The Admiral also procured a quantity of Seeds- 
 men's Catalogues — about enough to fill the stern 
 sheets of the cutter — ^and gloated loquaciously 
 over the magnificent illustrations of flowers therein 
 depicted, flowers of such size and beauty as are 
 never seen anywhere else but in — sl Seedsman's 
 Catalogue. 
 
 Vast quantities of seeds also arrived in due course. 
 Everybody had a hand in the choosing of them, 
 and each man was allowed to pick what he liked. 
 For it was understood that this garden was to be 
 none of your conventional, hide-bound affairs; 
 
 178 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 it had to grow what was piped for it to grow, not 
 what it wanted itself. 
 
 The Admiral was all for vegetable produce, and 
 put in seeds of practically every sort of eatable 
 plant that grows. 
 
 The Commander — who was of a poetic and 
 artistic temperament — wanted sweet peas and 
 nothing else. 
 
 "All right," said the Admiral; "plenty of 
 room 1 Put 'em in amongst the potatoes, then 
 you won't need pea-sticks — ^they can hang on to 
 the potato -stalks." 
 
 The same principle decided that violets should 
 be grown with the turnips, the broad leaves of the 
 latter providing a kindly shade for the modest 
 flowers. 
 
 Another enthusiast had a passion for orchids. 
 It was pointed out to him that these required a 
 glass house and various other aids and contrivances, 
 but he was not to be deterred. " Let 'em get 
 acclimatised, same as I've had to," he said. " If 
 I can stick it, I don't see why they shouldn't; 
 once they see they're not going to be caudled and 
 pampered they'll grow fast enough, you see I " 
 
 We had pansies and cabbages in one comer, 
 roses and tomatoes in another, and a border of 
 primulas around an asparagus bed. In fact, most 
 of the garden was apportioned in the same way as 
 the football grounds are; that is to say, four or 
 five different kinds of seeds were thrown in to- 
 gether, each to have the use of the groimd at 
 
 174 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 successive intervals. And in some cases where it 
 was afterwards discovered that two kinds of seeds 
 were due to come up the same month, a Hke principle 
 still held good as when two matches are arranged 
 by mistake to take place on the same ground at 
 the same time ; the teams with the stronger men 
 occupy the field. 
 
 The fact of the ship being at sea so frequently 
 caused great interference with regular gardening 
 work. There were weeks and weeks when nothing 
 was done. The Admiral was rather worried over 
 this, but his patriotism was even greater than his 
 gardening enthusiasm and he was content to let 
 the garden take its chance. 
 
 Perhaps this was really the cause of the success 
 — Nature being allowed to have her own way 
 without interference ; or else it may have been 
 due to the proverbial luck that waits on the 
 British Navy. But the fact remains that most 
 of the things really did grow 1 TuUps and early 
 spring cabbages came up side by side in splendid 
 luxuriance ; magnificent dahlias fraternised with 
 exuberant horse-radishes ; grand specimens of 
 rambler roses hob-nobbed with scarlet-runners. 
 
 Just a little too soon to gather in the earliest 
 first-fruits, we were once more ordered to sea; 
 but we all looked forward greedily to having our 
 tables loaded with produce on our return — the 
 Admiral especially. 
 
 But, alas 1 A destroyer flotilla — rightly named 
 — ^put in during our absence ; a long regimen of bare 
 
 175 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Navy food had rendered them more than usually 
 piratical ; they came, they saw, they stripped the 
 garden of every blessed thing, and they departed 
 again 1 
 
 The words we used on our return were longer 
 than any to be found in the Seedsmen's Cata- 
 logues. It was the only way to relieve our feelings, 
 so we said everything we could think of — ^the 
 Admiral especially I 
 
 1T6 
 
2. Our Revue. 
 
 '* "T CALL it a top-hole show," said the Com- 
 
 I mander, as we came back from the 
 
 Inimitable'^ theatricals, — *' about the best 
 
 I've seen; and those snotties made a ripping 
 
 beauty-chorus 1 " 
 
 " Too dashed life-like," sighed our Senti- 
 mentalist, — " when one hasn't seen a bit of skirt 
 for ten months it doesn't seem fair to dangle the 
 imitation article before one's eyes like that ! " 
 
 " The singing wasn't too good," complained our 
 Musician ; " the enunciation was distinctly poor, 
 and in some passages the tenor was quite percep- 
 tibly a half a semitone sharp I " 
 
 *' What I didn't care about was the lack of a 
 connected plot," urged our Literary Man. " After 
 all, the play's the thing, and this was a mere 
 stringing together of songs and patter ! " 
 
 " Anyhow," said our Bon Viveur cheerily, 
 " they did put up a very good show in the refresh- 
 ment line ; those foie-gras sandwiches were just 
 it, — I had fourteen of 'em; and their meringues 
 were jolly good, too." 
 
 Undeterred by all these criticisms, the Com- 
 mander proceeded to launch the suggestion which 
 » 177 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 had evidently been in his mind from the moment 
 he left the Inimitable and stepped into our boat. 
 " I think it's up to us to put up a show of our own 
 now," said he, " and try to knock the Inimitables 
 out, if we can ! *' 
 
 Dissentient voices — there were several of these — 
 were silenced by a majority of approving supporters 
 of the scheme. But a little difficulty arose at the 
 beginning with respect to the form which our 
 entertainment should take. 
 
 " Don't let's be mere slavish imitators of other 
 ships," urged our Musician. " Can't we have 
 something entirely different ? I would suggest 
 a sort of chamber concert of classical music, two 
 or three quartettes, a 'cello solo or two, and, say, 
 three or four pieces for violin and piano." 
 
 " Frightfully thrilling," sneered the first of 
 many objectors to this proposal. " How the 
 lower deck would enjoy it. I can see every piece 
 being encored twice over ! " 
 
 " There wouldn't be time for encores, I'm afraid," 
 answered the musical enthusiast; and it remains 
 unsolved to this day whether the sarcasm was 
 wasted on him or whether he was doing a bit of 
 quiet leg-pulling himself. 
 
 " I should Uke to have a proper play," suggested 
 our Literary Man, — " something of Shakespeare's 
 for preference : Henry the Eighth, for instance, or 
 Titus Andronicus ; we ought to try and elevate 
 the taste of the Fleet somewhat ! " 
 
 " Elevate my foot 1 " blurted our Vulgarian. 
 
 178 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 "If we must have a play, why not do one of 
 Gilbert and Sullivan's?" 
 
 This idea found several supporters, until the fact 
 came to Hght that the only member of the mess 
 with a face and voice suited to the heroine's part 
 was also possessed of a beard which he refused to 
 shave ; and it was considered that none of Gilbert 
 and Sullivan's heroines would look really well with a 
 beard. 
 
 Of course, in the long run, the decision finally 
 drifted into the same channel as that of every 
 other ship, and we arranged to have a revue. 
 
 The Junior Watchkeeper volunteered to write 
 the libretto, putting forward as his credentials that 
 he had contributed several articles on Dry-Fly 
 Fishing to the Field, and had taken part in a 
 French play when he was at a preparatory school. 
 Being, therefore, both literary and dramatic, he 
 felt himself doubly qualified for the part. 
 
 For a whole fortnight he spent most of his time 
 shut up in his cabin, and in order to be able to 
 devote himself solely to play-writing worked upon 
 the Commander to get himself excused all watch- 
 keeping. Looking backward now, one is inclined 
 to suspect that this was his true motive, rather than 
 the pursuit of art for art's sake. 
 
 At the end of this time he emerged, with a bulky 
 manuscript entitled " Round the Fleet for Six- 
 pence : or Jack and the Hun -Stalk," — all written 
 in verse, after the approved pantomime model. 
 
 Unfortunately, the whole thing proved to be a 
 
 179 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 tissue of scurrilous witticisms directed against not 
 only every one in the ship but everybody in every 
 other ship of the Fleet as well, not sparing the most 
 exalted ranks and caring nothing for stripes or 
 aiguelettes ! 
 
 Phew 1 It was very funny, — ^that cannot be 
 denied. But, to produce it in public would have 
 black-listed the ship for ever and a day — would 
 have jammed the promotion of every one in her 
 from the skipper downwards, and would probably 
 have resulted in the miserable librettist being put 
 on the beach straight away 1 It is a pity that 
 extracts cannot be given here ; they might add 
 to the gaiety of nations, but I might be held 
 responsible for them ! 
 
 Of course, it was obvious that " the book " 
 must be suppressed ; but our Literary Man volun- 
 teered to amend it, taking out all the personalities 
 and recasting the whole thing. 
 
 It became, in his hands, " Jack and Jell-icoe : 
 a Phantasy " — written in the Shakespearean style 
 with classical tags and erudite allusions which 
 nobody understood. The author gave a private 
 reading in the wardroom to our Committee of 
 Selection, but before he had got through the first 
 act every member of the committee was fast asleep I 
 
 We all insisted on having a hand in it after 
 this. " Make it a detective yam,'* suggested one 
 man. " Something after the style of a movies 
 drama," pleaded another. " No ; a farce of the 
 Charlie's Aunt kind,*' said a third. " With a 
 
 180 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 stirring love -interest," said a fourth. " Why have 
 a plot at all?" asked a fifth; "nobody cares a 
 hang about the story of the thing — all you want 
 is plenty of songs and good dresses, and above 
 all, something rigged up to look like girls I " 
 
 We all felt convinced that this speaker had 
 spoken words of true wisdom. 
 
 " We must have some scenery," we were re- 
 minded by our artist; and he and the ship's 
 painter collaborated to produce the necessary 
 back-cloths and side -scenes. 
 
 Unhappily, the painter took offence at an early 
 date, the customary quarrel between the profes- 
 sional and the amateur being the immediate cause, 
 and our artist was left to do the job, single-handed. 
 And as he was unable to paint anything but scenes 
 of a rural and pastoral nature, the result left a 
 good deal to the imagination. For example, 
 Scene 1 was described on the programme as 
 " Victoria Station at Midnight," but the back- 
 scene was a pleasing sunlit picture of green fields 
 with a babbling brook and a windmill. Scene 2, 
 described as " The Robbers' Cave," appeared to 
 the eye as a poppy-strewn cornfield ; and so it 
 was with all the rest of the scenes. But we all 
 felt it was a pity to waste such well -painted cloths. 
 Besides, we had no others, and one surely need 
 not be too particular about the dramatic unities in 
 a revue I 
 
 After innumerable rehearsals the thing was at 
 last produced. It was a screaming success. And 
 
 181 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 — would you believe it ? — I overheard the com- 
 mander of another ship saying to his brother officers 
 as they stepped into their boat, " I call it a top- 
 hole show, about the best I've seen I And those 
 snotties made a ripping beauty-chorus 1 " And 
 an answering voice came faintly back across the 
 
 water, " Too dashed life-hke I " We are all 
 
 of us very much alike — in our thoughts and 
 opinions, as well as in our attempts at the Drama ! 
 
 18S 
 
3. The Sailing Regatta, 
 
 " T T THAT an incessant whirl of gaiety we do 
 y y/ live in, to be sure ! " exclaimed our 
 cynical torpedo-lieutenant, as he flung 
 down upon the wardroom table a half-foolscap sheet 
 of print. " First we have steam-tactics, then coal- 
 ship, ammunition and provision ship, shift billet 
 twice in a forenoon, proceed out of harbour, come 
 into harbour, shift billet again, coal ship once more, 
 and now, to stop up everything, I'm blest if we're 
 not let in for a Squadron Sailing Regatta 1 " 
 
 It will be observed that our torpedo -lieutenant 
 is not really a keen enthusiast about boat -sailing. 
 Gk)lf is his forte, and after golf — or perhaps one 
 should say "With but after" — come his beloved 
 mouldies, over which he spends hours down in the 
 torpedo flat, lovingly caressing them and entering 
 their pedigrees in his stud book, and all that sort 
 of thing ; hoping one day to launch them against 
 the Hun, and by so doing not only win honour and 
 glory, but, more important still, prove how vastly 
 superior the torpedo -branch of the Service is to 
 that of mere gunnery. 
 
 The derision with which he made his announce- 
 ment concerning the regatta did not, however, 
 
 183 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 meet with any sympathy; much to his surprise, 
 everybody seemed to be pleased about it. 
 
 After all, you can never tell what will please 
 people. Our P.M.O. the other day had to send 
 a very junior midshipman to the hospital ship to 
 be operated on for appendicitis ; he composed a 
 letter to the boy's mother, and spent several 
 anxious hours in endeavouring so to word his 
 epistle that he might break the news to an anxious 
 parent, and calm her natural fears as much as 
 possible. In a few days he got an answer back, 
 which ran, " Dear Dr. — , — I am deUghted to 
 hear that Bertie is having that annoying portion of 
 his inside removed ; apples have always been a 
 trouble in our family, and I always say that the 
 sooner they are tweaked out the better." 
 
 In point of fact, quite a thrill of pleasure passed 
 around the wardroom when we heard that we 
 were to have a squadron sailing regatta. One 
 cannot always be Hun -hunting; and in the long 
 intervals when lying at anchor at — ^hush ! — or 
 when steaming in a — hush again ! — direction, any 
 sort of amusement is good enough to break the 
 monotony; you can see, these days, two bearded 
 officers getting quite excited over a game of Halma, 
 and if any one sends us a new jig-saw we get quite 
 giddy with frivolity ! 
 
 Besides, there are those amongst us who are 
 frightfully keen on sailing races, even in normal 
 times. One such is our young Irish doctor, known 
 
 184 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 generally as Pat Murphy, although his real name 
 is Habakkuk Potts ; which has not got altogether 
 an Irish ring about it, though the owner of it says 
 it is a very ancient Erse name and should really 
 be spelt Aghduhba'ecchead Moihgbd's — I hope I 
 have got this down correctly, but cannot guarantee 
 its exact accuracy. 
 
 Anyhow, Pat Murphy fancies himself as a bit 
 of a boat sailer. Principally because, once upon a 
 time, before the war, he took away the skiff under 
 sail, when we were at Lamlash, with the intention 
 of landing on Holy Island ; he came back in tow 
 of the picket-boat, having fetched up on the coast 
 some four miles below Ardrossan, and all we could 
 get out of him was that he had changed his mind, 
 and that he thought a longer sail would be a 
 foine divarsion; but, of course, nobody believed 
 him. 
 
 So now he was all over it — ^to use the crisp, 
 clearcut idiom of our graceful language — and 
 professed himself ready and eager to take away 
 any boat from the launch downwards. He said 
 he would like to show some of us fellows what 
 good boat -sailing really was ; and told us that 
 it was not every one that knew how to handle a 
 boat ; it was not a thing ye could learn — ye had 
 to be naturalee gifted for ut. 
 
 Our Hedonist pooh-poohed the whole idea. 
 " Nobody cares tuppence about the boats in a 
 regatta,'* he said ; " the main thing is to get a 
 
 185 
 
Grand Fleet Bays 
 
 lot of skirt off from the beach, have flags and 
 rugs and armchairs and palms and things all 
 over the quarter-deck, the band playing, sun 
 shining, and a dance to wind up with ! " 
 
 " Yes," interrupted our Gourmand, " and a 
 slap-up tea, lots of it I I remember when I was 
 in the old ." Here he wandered off into en- 
 raptured reminiscences, in which iced -chocolate - 
 cakes, champagne -cup, and foie-gras sandwiches 
 played the principal parts ; and nobody paid any 
 further attention to him. 
 
 It was decided, after a good deal of heated dis- 
 cussion, that Pat Murphy should be permitted to 
 go away in the second cutter with a lieutenant in 
 charge of the boat, the lieutenant being told to let 
 Pat Murphy believe himself to be in charge, but 
 on no account to let him give any orders or do 
 anything on his own. The commander said he 
 would take the gig, the first lieutenant took the 
 Montague whaler, and the other boats of the ship 
 were apportioned to various officers. 
 
 On the mess -deck there was even more interest 
 shown about the regatta than there was aft. 
 
 Private Nobby Clark R.M.L.I., coxswain of the 
 Marines' whaler's crew and a star-turn man at 
 sailing a boat, met Gunner Dusty Miller, of our 
 chummy ship, H.M.S. Monstrous, while on shore 
 one day when leave was piped to liberty-men from 
 two till six; and after a slight discussion with 
 him touching the question whether the beer-tickets 
 
 186 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 for the day were puce or cerise, went on to debate 
 the merits of their respective boats ; and as Gunner 
 Miller was two stone heavier than Private Clark, 
 the latter returned on board us with a dislocated 
 jaw and both eyes rendered useless for practical 
 purposes for some days, though considered as a 
 tone-harmony their colour scheme was a brilliant 
 success. 
 
 But any idea of his going away as coxswain was 
 out of the question ; and the only satisfaction was 
 that Gunner Miller was also incapacitated. As it 
 turned out, our Marines* crew won, owing to the 
 Monstrous' s whaler fouling the buoy at the turn, 
 and Private Clark held quite a lev6e in the sick- 
 bay with his jubilant messmates. 
 
 The day of the regatta dawned, wet and blowing 
 hard. It always is like that on a regatta day. 
 Even abroad, where climate is more settled and 
 warm, fine weather is a matter of routine, the one 
 infallible method of getting a cold, stormy day is 
 to get up a regatta. But in home waters the only 
 sensible thing would be to hold the regatta in the 
 middle of January, when the day would probably 
 turn out hot with light airs out of sheer perversity. 
 
 So it was postponed until the following day. 
 This also is a matter of routine. Moreover, still 
 according to routine, the following day proved 
 to be slightly worse, if anything; but it was 
 decided to risk matters and not make any further 
 postponement. 
 
 187 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Well, our ship managed to do fairly successfully. 
 We won the squadron cup for racing cutters under 
 service rig, presented some years ago by his Royal 
 Highness the Sultan of Kahat when he concluded 
 his service as midshipman in the British Navy, 
 and before he retired to his Central African king- 
 dom and introduced golf with his twenty-five 
 wives to caddy for him. 
 
 The cup was a magnificent affair, standing two 
 feet high and adorned with all manner of intricate 
 work, and the winning of such a splendid trophy 
 gave great delight to the whole ship's company — 
 with the exception of the Marine silver-man in the 
 pantry, who observed with disgust : " Another 
 blighted piece of bright-work for me to clean, two 
 hours' work a day at the least, and all for ten bob 
 a month 1 " But nobody sympathised with him 
 in his troubles. 
 
 In other races, too, we did quite well. But I 
 will not attempt to labour any description of 
 them, confining my efforts in this direction to the 
 all-comers' race, which came at the end of the 
 programme. 
 
 Of course, as everybody knows, the great art in 
 a sailing-race is to cross the line a few seconds 
 before the gun fires without being found out. To 
 do this successfully is not by any means a simple 
 matter. You have to make it appear that in spite 
 of your utmost efforts to get exactly on the start- 
 ing-line at the right moment you are unavoidably 
 
 188 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 carried beyond it. So you must approach it just 
 too soon, go about, try again, do this twice, and 
 be apparently just going to go about again when 
 the gun fires, and with a certain amount of luck 
 you may bring it off. 
 
 Of course w^e never do anything like that in 
 our ship ! We would scorn it ! Besides, it is 
 rather risky. So all our boats got away right at 
 the proper moment, and, being skilfully handled, 
 got well ahead of the others in every class. The 
 wind was by this time very tricky, inclined to be 
 gusty, and showing signs of falling. Of course, 
 it fell entirely just when the launches were furthest 
 away from the ships, and a launch being a boat 
 that will not sail in a light wind, they all had to be 
 towed home. 
 
 In the cutters' class there was more excitement. 
 Especially in the one which was officered by Pat 
 Murphy and the lieutenant. During a sudden 
 hard gust of wind the latter gave the order to ease 
 the main sheet, and Pat, who was holding on to it, 
 immediately hauled it aft as far as it would come. 
 With the result that the boat capsized and the 
 occupants spent a damp and uncomfortable hour 
 sitting on the bottom of the upturned cutter, Pat 
 Murphy explaining with much volubility the cause 
 of the mishap; "I thought ye said heave,*' he 
 said. 
 
 The commander, in the gig, came home an easy 
 first and turned his attention to directing the 
 
 189 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 picket-boats to go away at once ; the first picket- 
 boat to tow the launch back to the ship and the 
 second one to go and pick up the cutter. 
 
 We are looking forward now to the Pulling 
 Regatta. It it provides as much incident as the 
 sailing one it will be a pleasing break in the 
 sameness of our routine existence; 
 
 190 
 
4. The Outcasts of Poker Flat 
 
 THIS title has already been used before by 
 another great writer. I am sorry about this, 
 but it can't be helped. No other title would 
 do quite so well for the present veracious history ; 
 because — ^to give reasons in writing: — (1) It is all 
 about a Flat. For the information of such as 
 may be unaware of the fact, a Flat in a ship of war 
 is a compartment below decks which may be, as 
 in this case, an open space surrounded by officers' 
 cabins. (2) The Flat in question was known by 
 the name of Poker Flat — ^though it was also desig- 
 nated Virtue Villas — on account of its occupants 
 being extremely partial to a certain game of chance. 
 (3) The said occupants became Outcasts from 
 their fellows, for reasons which shall be herein- 
 after mentioned. 
 
 So, taking everything into consideration, what 
 other title could I have chosen ? 
 
 The ship (or vessel) to which I am now referring 
 was the old unarmoured cruiser Baltic, considered 
 in her day the pride of the ocean, but now employed 
 as mother-ship for toboggans in the South Pacific, 
 and manned by a crowd who languished in vain 
 longings after a more exciting and active life. 
 
 191 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 Very quiet and restful indeed it was on board the 
 old Bultic; and had it not been for the toboggan 
 fellows who used to come into the mess of an 
 evening and cheer things up a little, it would have 
 been intolerably dull. They did introduce a little 
 " liveliness," however; too much of it, perhaps ! 
 
 The crew found it pretty dull forrard, too. In 
 spite of the efforts of the Physical Training Expert, 
 who lay awake at nights thinking out new acrobatic 
 contortions to inflict on the men and keep them 
 for a long time on their feet, they had, instead, a 
 lot of time on their hands. Consequently they began 
 to get into mischief, and I regret to say that they 
 began to take to gambling ; which is most strictly 
 forbidden on board ship. 
 
 The Commander was very worried about this, 
 the more so as he was well aware that certain 
 of the junior wardroom officers were setting the 
 example in this respect. 
 
 " Not in the wardroom, of course," he said ; 
 " I shouldn't let it go on there. But — well, you 
 know — down in Poker Flat ; there's a dashed sight 
 too much of it 1 I shouldn't mind if it were just 
 a little flutter now and then; but it's getting 
 a regular nightly affair now, and those toboggan 
 officers drift in here as if the ship were a regular 
 casino ! I can't take any notice of what goes on 
 in officers' cabins, naturally. What am I to do ? " 
 
 The individual to whom the Commander ad- 
 dressed his plaint was the BMcs Temporary 
 Chaplain for the Period of Hostilities, the Rev. 
 
 192 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 Nunmore Meek, a pale, insipid-looking gentle- 
 man who hailed from the sweet seclusion of a 
 Shropshire country parish; one of the very last 
 people you would suspect of joining one of the 
 fighting forces, if you hadn't become accustomed 
 to seeing all sorts of equally unlikely people doing 
 the same thing 1 
 
 " Indeed, I wish I could help you to stop this 
 horrid vice," replied the mild Padre ; " but I 
 am afraid my influence over them is very small, 
 oh, very small 1 " 
 
 However, he did what in him lay, and came out 
 next Sunday with a most trenchant sermon on 
 Betting and Gambhng, with illustrative allusions 
 from the ancient Fathers in the original Greek 
 and Latin; on which the Mess -Deck verdict was: 
 " Our minister be a vurry lamed man; w'y, not 
 even the orfcers can unnerstan' a single word 'e 
 du say 1 " And great was the respect he thus 
 earned for himself ; but the effect upon the regret- 
 table practice of gambling was, as might have been 
 expected, nil. 
 
 Amongst the junior wardroom officers there 
 were even to be found open scoffers. " What 
 rot you talked, Padre," they calmly observed. 
 " Why, how can you tell whether a thing is good or 
 bad when you've never tried it ? Come and watch 
 us one night, and you'll see there's very little harm 
 in it after all ! " 
 
 The Reverend Nunmore Meek was nothing if 
 not just, and acknowledged the reasonableness of 
 O 193 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 this proposal. And — ^to cut a long story short — 
 found himself one evening in one of the cabins 
 of Poker Flat amidst a small crowd of Baltics 
 and tobogganists, engaged in what they described 
 as a little game of chance. 
 
 " I cannot think it is free from the censure 
 of being most reprehensible," he remarked, after 
 watching a few rounds. " Why, it is even per- 
 missible to cheat and lie ! " 
 
 " You bet your sweet life, Padre," was the 
 vulgar reply; "the most accomplished liar wins 
 at this game 1 " 
 
 " Yet I cannot help thinking that it might be 
 played with strict honesty and honour," insisted 
 the mild cleric, " and would then make quite an 
 agreeable parlour-game." 
 
 " You try it on those lines," jeered the others. 
 " You're just the sort of lamb we should Uke to 
 play with 1 Poker's a cheating game, and all's 
 fair unless it's fnund out. Perhaps you would like 
 to take a hand ? " 
 
 Thus challenged, Mr. Meek was put upon his 
 mettle, and sat down with the players. 
 
 " I think I understand the rules from watching 
 you," he said ; " they appear to be simple." 
 
 Simple they may have been, but the Reverend 
 Nunmore Meek was simpler still if he thought that 
 he would have any success. At the end of half 
 an hour he had lost a couple of pounds. Yet he 
 showed no inclination to stop. 
 
 He betted every time on hands which were 
 
 194 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 really beyond description. Once, for example, a 
 hand on which he lost heavily consisted of a pair of 
 nines. " But all the other cards are red ones," 
 he exclaimed plaintively; "doesn't that count 
 something ? Didn't you tell me that was a flush, 
 or am I mistaken ? " 
 
 They told him he w^as mistaken; and, being 
 decent fellows, begged him not to play any more. 
 But the parson's blood was up and nothing would 
 stop him. Finally, when there was the largest 
 pool of the evening, he insisted on staying in when 
 every one else was shy except Lieutenant Deuceace, 
 the leading hand of the Baltics poker-players. 
 
 " Am I allowed to increase my wager? " asked 
 Mr. Meek. 
 
 He was allowed to ; still, Deuceace outbid him. 
 Mr. Meek again " increased his wager," so did 
 Deuceace. 
 
 At the end of ten minutes the betting amounted 
 to the appalling sum of two hundred pounds — 
 an amount unheard of in all the annals of naval 
 card-playing, which after all is generally fairly 
 innocuous. 
 
 Deuceace gave in at this point. He had nothing 
 but his bare pay — unless you count his card- 
 winnings ! 
 
 He laid down four aces and a joker. ** What 
 does mine count ? " asked Mr. Meek, with an in- 
 nocent smile, as he exposed — a royal flush. 
 
 The Reverend Nunmore Meek sent his com- 
 
 195 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 pliments to Mr. Deuceace next morning, and could 
 the latter spare him a few minutes in his cabin. 
 
 " Deuceace, my boy," he said, as he slowly 
 tore in pieces an I O U and shredded it into his 
 waste-paper basket, " it may interest you to know 
 that before I was ordained I spent ten years in 
 Arizona, where I regret to say I was generally 
 known by the name of Hellfire Jack. You fellows 
 don't know the first thing about poker-play ! 
 All I ask now, in return for my tearing up this little 
 note of yours, is that you will discourage gambling 
 on the mess -deck — and amongst the junior officers 
 of this ship I '* 
 
 The toboggan fellows go elsewhere now when 
 they want a little flutter ; the Baltics never touch 
 a card, and consequently are treated very coldly 
 by their erstwhile fellow-players ; in fact, they are 
 complete Outcasts. And on the Baltic's mess -deck 
 the favourite game nowadays is spillikins. 
 
 196 
 
5. Lecturing 
 
 THE idea emanated from the Captain, who 
 said that it ought really to be done in every 
 ship ; when he was a lieutenant in the old 
 Incomparable they used to make a constant 
 practice of it, and it had proved a tremendous 
 success ; what was more, we ought in these days 
 to seize every opportunity for the advancement of 
 progress and to cultivate intellectual pursuits as 
 much as possible ; it would be a very good thing 
 if we would only imitate the Germans a little in 
 their habit of taking life seriously and absorbing 
 every new idea as it came out; — and so on. He 
 held the floor for a solid half-hour in this strain, 
 and we all listened with the most profound 
 respect. 
 
 His idea was, roughly, that every wardroom 
 officer in turn should give a lecture to the rest of 
 the officers, the subject to be left entirely to his 
 own individual choice, and the lecture to be followed 
 by a discussion. It was not stated whether the gun- 
 room and warrant officers were to be brought into 
 the scheme as active participants, but we gathered 
 that they were just to attend as silent sufferers ; 
 not a bad idea, that, because gun-room officers, at 
 
 197 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 any rate, could have their leave stopped if they 
 failed to applaud the speaker, or if they asked 
 awkward questions during the discussion; and 
 the younger ones could be beaten. 
 
 I cannot say that the suggestion was received 
 with any great degree of acclamation. You see, 
 the evening can be spent so profitably otherwise ; 
 as, for instance, in wooing gentle slumber on the 
 settees, or in those various indoor games which 
 have Made England What She Is. 
 
 However, there were two officers who seized 
 upon the idea with avidity. 
 
 One of these was the Gunnery-Lieutenant, who 
 foresaw an opening for inflicting on his helpless 
 messmates all the dread ideas surging through his 
 brain ; inoculating them with his own virus, so to 
 speak, having got them into a position where they 
 would be powerless to resist or retaliate. 
 
 " I shan't be able to do it in one lecture," he 
 said, with the froth of anticipatory joy streaming 
 from his fervent lips ; "it will take me at least 
 six lectures to go through the elementary part, 
 and then, if you catch on to it at all, I wouldn't 
 mind giving a further course of another half a 
 dozen just to go a little more into detail." 
 
 We thanked him, but declined his offer. We 
 made it very plain indeed, in order not to leave 
 any doubts in his mind that it was only our 
 modesty which prevented us from accepting; 
 because he is that sort of fellow, — ^he would rather 
 spend a whole forenoon any day in range -finding 
 
 198 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 exercises than have his pay raised, and he fancies 
 that every one else must be built the same way. 
 
 The majority, though unwilling to become 
 lecturers themselves, were very forward with 
 suggestions for others, the suggestions being mostly 
 of a facetious nature. Collected in one list, the 
 programme as thus proposed would have run 
 somewhat after this fashion : — 
 
 Our Amorist : " Hearts I have broken." 
 
 The Junior Engineer-Lieutenant : *' Remarks 
 (super-heated) on motor-launches; with hints on 
 taking them in tow." 
 
 The Senior Watchkeeper : " Work, and how to 
 dodge it." 
 
 Our Pessimist : "What will become of England ? " 
 
 Well, the list was longer really, but I won't 
 pain you with any more of it. 
 
 Some of the junior officers, feeling that they 
 would be bound to be made the scapegoats and 
 would be told off by the Commander to open the 
 course, resigned themselves to their fate, seeking 
 rehef only by cutting who should be the first to 
 get up and make an ass of himself, as their quaint 
 wording had it. But a slight altercation, following 
 on the discovery that one of the contestants had 
 a series of cutting-words arranged to meet every 
 contingency, led to a breakdown in this agree- 
 ment, and the unwilling aspirants for oratorical 
 honours left their fate to chance with the gloomiest 
 forebodings. 
 
 I mentioned that there was, however, another 
 
 199 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 one in addition to the Gunnery -Lieutenant who was 
 quite eager to become a lecturer. This was our 
 Temporary Assistant -Paymaster, who had joined 
 for the period of hostilities, a very fierce, warlike 
 person, who somehow managed to convey the idea 
 that his great delight was to wade in gore and crush 
 Prussian Militarism. He was, indeed, the very 
 dickens of a piratical cut -throat, one of the old 
 Buccaneering breed. Joining the Navy was no 
 joke to him — ^he took it tremendously seriously. 
 One of the first things he did on joining was to get 
 his chest and arms tattooed all over by the ship's 
 cook; but the process apparently had some flaw 
 in it, for the designs never came to anything more 
 than a thick and angry rash, which kept our 
 warrior confined to his bed for a week. 
 
 In private life our Temporary Assistant -Pay- 
 master was a Professor of Geology at a well-known 
 college ; and in appearance he was a little sandy- 
 haired fellow of thirty-five or so, with gold-rimmed 
 specs. 
 
 But he volunteered with great eagerness to give 
 us a lecture. Naturally, his offer was gratefully 
 accepted ; for there was a strong suspicion that the 
 first lecture would also prove the last, so if som.e 
 one could be found to start the affair the whole 
 trouble might very likely finish with the same. 
 
 He announced that the subject of his lecture 
 would be " Trilobites.'* 
 
 " What on earth are they? " the question was 
 passed when the geologist had left the wardroom. 
 
 200 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 " Some of those old ancient blokes you read 
 about in the Old Testament," suggested one ; " you 
 know, like the Hivites and Perizzites and Jebusites ; 
 we shall have to listen to an account of the manners 
 and customs of some infernal heathen tribe that 
 died out a million years ago, and a good job too 1 ** 
 
 " I don't think it means that at all," said the 
 Gunnery-Lieutenant. " I came across the name 
 the other day ; it's a new form of high -explosive, 
 an improvement on T.N.T. I've no doubt it will 
 prove a very interesting lecture, and I for one 
 shall be very glad to listen to it ! " 
 
 The Navigator, who preferred to pronounce the 
 word Tri-lobby-tees, said that it was the name of 
 an ancient Greek hero ; he remembered reading 
 about him at school, when he used to have to mug 
 at the classics. He explained, some days later, 
 that he had confused the name with Triptolemus ; 
 but, as he said, the principle was the same I 
 
 Finally we looked the word out in Chambers's 
 Encyclopaedia (Volume SWAS to ZYRI), and 
 discovered something of the true nature of trilo- 
 bites, which somehow did not promise to be very 
 thrilling. 
 
 The lecturer, however, was frightfully keen on 
 his subject. When he had got us all at his mercy 
 he warmed up to it and got very excited, and his 
 eyes sparkled behind the gold-rimmed spectacles, 
 and somehow he conveyed the impression that a 
 life without trilobites was hardly worth living. 
 
 The Gunnery-Lieutenant, as soon as he found 
 
 201 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 out that the subject had nothing to do with high- 
 explosives, made a noise hke some one who has 
 just remembered an important fixture, pulled an 
 engagement-book out of his pocket, turned over 
 its pages rapidly, and got up with a brief word of 
 excuse, and vanished from the room. 
 
 The lecturer simply wrestled with his pet subject. 
 He analysed it, classified it, drew pictures of it; 
 told us what trilobites were, where they could be 
 found, what they had been in their palmy days 
 some few million years back, and how we might 
 recognise the points of a first-class full-blooded 
 trilobite. We had sections of trilobites, photo- 
 graphs of them, specimens of them — and, altogether 
 about two hours of them. Finally, when the whole 
 audience was reduced to splitting yawns, the 
 lecturer sank exhausted into a chair and an- 
 nounced that his few words had now come to an 
 end. When the applause ceased he stood on his 
 feet again and said that the matter was now open 
 to discussion, and he would be happy to answer 
 any questions we might care to ask. 
 
 There was a profound silence for a whole minute. 
 Then our prize lunatic arose slowly from his chair, 
 and in most deliberate tones said : "I should 
 be very glad if you would tell me — What is a 
 
 Trilobite ? 
 
 *t 
 
 W9 
 
6. A Real Interlude 
 
 THE Captain's Clerk, carrying a load of care 
 in his features and a sheaf of official 
 documents in his hand, moistened his fore- 
 finger on the tip of his tongue — an unpleasant 
 practice, but useful — ^and turned over his papers 
 rapidly till he found the one he wanted. Having 
 withdrawn it from the sheaf, he presented it in 
 his best official manner to Lieutenant Wrigglesby. 
 
 Wriggles by perused the document rapidly, and 
 remarked : " Dear me ! " or words to that effect, 
 in tones of strong disapproval. Then, as swift 
 reflections swept across his mind, he added the 
 qualifying remark: "Well, I d'know; p'raps it 
 won't be so rotten, after all; anyway, it'll be a 
 change from this, and I may be able to pinch a 
 couple of days' leave out of it with luck ! " 
 
 Everybody in a wardroom is always curious 
 about everybody else's business, and considers 
 that he has a right to know it — a. right which is 
 usually conceded as a matter of course. We 
 came straight to the point, without any beating 
 about the bush, and asked Wrigglesby what had 
 happened, 
 
 203 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 " Just been told that I'm lent to the Matchbox, 
 and have to proceed immediately." 
 
 " What for ? Her skipper gone sick ? '* 
 
 " I expect so. It doesn't say, naturally.'* 
 
 " What is the Matchbox ? Know anything 
 about her?" 
 
 " One of the most prehistoric of the old thirty- 
 knotters, I believe. Don't know where she is at 
 present, but I have an idea she's in the Bristol 
 Channel patrol. Nice place with a seven -knot 
 tide and cross-currents playing catch-as-catch- 
 can — and an old t.b.d. whose engines are probably 
 tied together with bits of spun-yam I Well, well ; 
 me for the gay life ! I shall get quit of the 
 sight of all you ugly blighters for a month or so, 
 anyhow, so that's something." 
 
 We understood — as an outsider probably would 
 fail to do — ^that Wrigglesby was as proud and 
 pleased with his prospective command as if he had 
 been appointed captain of a Dreadnought; and 
 that he was, at the same time, extremely sorry at 
 being cut adrift from his old messmates. 
 
 A combined struggle with Bradshaw extracted 
 after some time the information that the quickest 
 route would be to go straight to London, and then 
 take the midnight express from Paddington to 
 Plymouth, changing there into a cross-country 
 train. 
 
 Four days later Wrigglesby woke with a start 
 from a peaceful slumber in the corner of a railway- 
 
 204 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 carriage ; the sudden ceasing of the slumberous 
 droning noise and a jerking stop called him to his 
 senses. He looked out of the window and saw 
 nothing more exciting than the green fields and 
 hedges of the heart of Devonshire. The guard 
 was coming along the side -path of the single -line 
 track towards Wrigglesby's carriage ; it was not 
 a long walk, as the train consisted only of two 
 coaches and a luggage -van. 
 
 "May as well get down, sir,'* reported the guard ; 
 " the cutting right head is blocked. There's a 
 tidy lot of earth and rubble fallen in ; powerful 
 heavy rain here yesterday must have loosened 
 it." 
 
 " What chance of going on ? " 
 
 " Well, I'm going to walk on to the signal-box; 
 that's a matter of three mile from here, and wire 
 for the breakdown gang from Exeter. It'll take 
 them the best part of six hours to clear the line 
 when they get here. You'd best walk through 
 the fields to the village over in that direction and 
 pass the time there ; if you come back about 
 half -past eight or nine you'll be in plenty of 
 time." 
 
 Wrigglesby, with a happy knack of accommo- 
 dating himself to circumstances, extracted from 
 his gear a trout-rod in well-worn brown canvas 
 case, and inquired the name of the village. 
 
 " 'Tis Leys Apple wick, sir; nought but a 
 smallish place. But as I see you'm keen on the 
 
 205 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 fishing, there's good streams in the neighbourhood, 
 I b'Keve." 
 
 " May as well put in the time that way," re- 
 flected Wrigglesby. " Can't bother about per- 
 mission as time's so short, and must hope to find 
 the keeper in a good temper if I come across 
 him." 
 
 But, as it turned out, there was no need to trust 
 to this event ; the sum of eighteenpence disbursed 
 at the Leys Applewick post-office procured a 
 license to fish the rivers Durdle, Chedd, and Half- 
 ways for one day; and local knowledge, freely 
 heaped upon him by the village postmaster, di- 
 rected Wrigglesby to a point where the Durdle 
 runs into the Chedd, just above the rapid reach 
 of Ermiston Cleave. 
 
 Clear brown water, with a few great moss -topped 
 boulders in mid-stream; a slope clad with young 
 heather and bracken fern down to the water's 
 edge ; larks singing overhead, and in the distance 
 a view of purple tors. And the trout rising 
 splendidly. Wrigglesby felt the new life of it all 
 simply pouring into him. 
 
 " Gude sport, Maister?" — a voice at his side 
 surprised him. He turned and saw a man of some 
 fifty-five years in keeper's rig. 
 
 " Good ? I should think so ! " The Heutenant 
 pointed to half a dozen glistening fish, not one 
 of them under half a' pound. " Not bad for an 
 hour's fishing, eh ? ** 
 
 206 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 " An' what be yew, zur?'* inquired the keeper, 
 looking hard at Wrigglesby's uniform monkey- 
 jacket and cap, and disregarding the question of 
 sport in his curiosity; " somethin' to do wi' the 
 railway, I rackon ? " 
 
 " No," said Wrigglesby, rather amused than 
 otherwise. " I belong to the Royal Navy." 
 
 " Aw, do'ee, now ? There's a young chap from 
 Applewick belongs to the Navy, tew. He's a 
 stoker, I b'lieve, by the name o' Dump — Dick 
 Dump. Do'ee know un ? " 
 
 Wrigglesby regretted that he could not claim 
 acquaintance with Stoker Dick Dump, but politely 
 inquired what ship he was serving in. 
 
 " Do'ee mane the name o' the boat e's on ? 
 Aw, that I cud'n tell'ee now : but tis one o' these 
 *ere large gunboats, they that carries a dizzen gert 
 cannons, so I'm told. Wait a bit, now — 'tis the 
 Hoary-' un, I mind 1 " 
 
 " Ah, the Orion I Well, I suppose you take 
 a great interest in naval matters in the village — 
 and, for that matter, in the war in general, 
 eh?" 
 
 " Dunno what yew might call takin' an interes' 1 
 'Tis this way, do'ee zee. Us gets the 'Ev'nin* 
 ErrW* up from Plymouth, an' us rades un threw, 
 but 'tis the letters from the young chaps at the 
 front as us sets most store by, and they dawn't tell 
 very much in the way o' news — ^not what yew 
 might call news 1 There's my sister's son. Bob 
 
 207 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 'Olliday, over to France, and my firs' cousin, Bill 
 Pascoe, out in — ^what d'ye call that place ? 'Tis 
 mentioned in the Bible — Mess, mess -up, somthin' 
 or other. I can't well put my tongue to it — ^" 
 
 " Mesopotamia ? " 
 
 " Ah, that's of it ! They and a score o' young 
 chaps besides gone from Applewick, some to th' 
 Army, some gone to say; but us dawn't get much 
 news from any o' them — ^not what yew might call 
 news." 
 
 " Why, don't they write and tell you all 
 about the war, and how they're doing, and all 
 that ? " 
 
 " Aw, yas, they tells us all that 1 Tur'ble 
 grand doin's, and wunnerful sights they must 'a 
 zeen, by all accounts, tew ! But — wull, I give'ee 
 an example now : Bob 'Olliday, 'e went awver to 
 France a matter of some twelve months ago ; an' 
 before 'e went, I ses to un : ' Bob,' I ses, ' you'm 
 goin' far across the says, into strange and wunner- 
 ful furrin' parts. 'Tis a very movin' thought, an' 
 a gert expayrience, 'specially for one so young's 
 yew be ! But you'm a knowledgeable lad, an' 
 your parents 'ave given 'ee a gude insight into the 
 ways o' farmin' .' Now, I ses to un, ' I 'ear tell as 
 'ow they be great 'ands at root -crops awver in they 
 parts. What I want 'ee to dew, then,' I ses, ' is 
 to take partickler care an' find out what sort o' 
 manure they dew use, and let us knaw when you'm 
 writin'.' But do'ee think e's ever made so much 
 as mention of it ? Not one word I Addle -pated 
 
 208 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 buffle-'eads, these young chaps be, to be sure 1 
 An important matter like that now; wud'n 'ee 
 'ave thaught 'e'd kape it in mind ? 'tis as I was 
 tellin 'ee, us dawn't get naw news — not what yew 
 might call news I " 
 
 209 
 
7. The Visit of H.M.S, Chatty. 
 
 EVEN to the hard-worked destroyer an inter- 
 lude in its strenuous round is sometimes 
 officially permitted. The bowstring must 
 be relaxed occasionally, as the ancient proverb hath 
 it, and destroyer officers are, after all, only human, 
 though there are people who would deny them this 
 attribute ! So a wise arrangement has so ordered 
 matters that destroyers shall take a spell now and 
 then ; just like the pirates and buccaneers of the 
 good old days used to do. 
 
 Of course, the kind of relaxation allowed is not 
 exactly that which they would choose for themselves 
 if given a free hand. In such a case, probably, 
 the first choice would be to turn the boat over to 
 a care -and -maintenance party, and all go on leave 
 for a fortnight ; and the next best thing would be 
 to tie up alongside a dockyard wall where they 
 could land after dark and steal things. 
 
 Neither of these Elysian joys, however, comes 
 within the range of practical pohtics at the present 
 time. Short of this, the best thing that can be 
 arranged is that a destroyer shall lie alongside a 
 big ship for a few days, with steam at a little longer 
 notice than usual. 
 
 210 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 You see the idea, of course ? The poor, weary, 
 and toil-battered fellows can relax their tired limbs 
 and close their overstrained eyes, and forget their 
 nerve-racking labours for a little while. The 
 great battleship, like a tender mother, receives the 
 little destroyer as a tired child, and takes it to rest 
 against her broad bosom, saying : " Come, little 
 one, forget your wanderings, your troubles, and 
 your labours for a while ; lean on me ; let me 
 nourish and refresh you; so shall you be strong 
 again and fitted for your great emprise 1 " 
 
 That is the theory. At least, I suppose so. 
 
 Now let us come to the matter as it works out 
 in practice. 
 
 I wonder if you happen to know the Chatty 1 
 She is one of the C-class destroyers, which have 
 done so well ever since they first came on the scene, 
 and the Chatty has been by no means the least 
 famous amongst them. Her officers — well, I will 
 tell you about them presently, and let you form 
 your own opinion. 
 
 The Chatty was told off to come and lie along- 
 side H.M.S. Hyper swper during a lull in naval 
 activities, and those on board the great battle- 
 ship discussed the coming visit in that spirit of 
 hospitality for which they are at least as much 
 renowned as their fellows in other ships. 
 
 " They will be alongside us for some few days, 
 I daresay? " said the Mess Caterer, " and we must 
 see if we can't put up something extra in the meal 
 line; I don't suppose they've had a square feed 
 
 211 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 for months, and they'll be glad of the chance to 
 get their teeth into something a bit better than 
 tin -bag and hard-boiled eggs." 
 
 " The main point is to let them feel themselves 
 at home," said the Mess President ; "let them buy- 
 up all the armchairs and settees if they want to, 
 and have first read of all the mess papers, if they 
 feel like it ; we can have these things at any time — 
 they can't." 
 
 " Of course, our billiard -table will be a great 
 attraction for them," said another officer; "so 
 let them have it to themselves just for these few 
 days ; and, if we can revive bridge at all, no doubt 
 they'll be glad to get a game." 
 
 Various other kindly suggestions were made ; 
 and in due course H.M.S. Chatty came alongside. 
 
 Within an hour of their arrival, half the Hyper- 
 super's wardroom officers and the whole of the 
 gunroom had migrated to the Chatty; a couple 
 of the former drifted back presently and said : 
 " Come along, you fellows, don't stick here in this 
 stuffy old ship, come across to the Chatty 1 " 
 The method of " coming across," which was de 
 rigueur by this time, consisted of taking a flying 
 leap from the Hypersupers deck in the battery 
 some eight or nine feet downwards, and about the 
 same distance across the intervening ditch; true, 
 there were people standing on the Chatty s deck, 
 holding a stretched-out gun-cover to catch the 
 arrivals ; the method appeared such a popular 
 pastime that it was not considered sufficient to go 
 
 212 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 through the performance once, but there was a 
 constant queue circHng round, coming upwards 
 over the gang-plank and downwards through the 
 air ! 
 
 At dinner-time, the Hypersuper's wardroom was 
 deserted by all except the Fleet -Paymaster, the 
 Engineer-Commander, and the Chaplain. Over in 
 the Chatty a crowd almost equal in numbers to 
 the chorus of a Drury-lane Revue were having a 
 sort of Progressive Dinner-Party, which began in 
 the wardroom and tailed out on the upper deck, 
 taking all the cabins and part of the engine-room 
 on its w^ay. This arrangement did not interfere, 
 however, with the free interchange of what may 
 be generically classed as " Bonhommy,*' the guests 
 on deck choosing the skylight as the fitting ap- 
 proach on the frequent occasions when they desired 
 to fraternise with their friends in the little wardroom 
 below. As for the fare provided, the only com- 
 ment necessary is the remark which embittered 
 the Hypersiiper' s Mess-Caterer for weeks after- 
 wards : " Why can't we get stuff to eat like the 
 Chatty's ? They seem to be able to manage things 
 all right ! Surely, if they can do it," and so on, 
 till the unhappy Mess-Caterer's life became a 
 burden to him. 
 
 The Fleet-Paymaster and the Engineer-Com- 
 mander of the Hypersuper were able to have the 
 billiard -table to themselves for the whole evening, 
 for the first and only time in the commission, the 
 Chaplain acting as marker. Not even bridge had 
 
 213 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 much of a look-in on board the Chatty. There 
 was an attempt to get up a game of Van-John, 
 but it was given up in favour of the more manly 
 parlour game of diving through the pantry trap- 
 hatch. 
 
 At 2.15 a.m. the Chatty's R.N.R. Sub. was with 
 difficulty dissuaded from calling on the Hyper- 
 super's captain to pay his respects. As the Sub. 
 in question stood six feet four in his socks and had 
 been for two years the champion heavy-weight of 
 the Pink Funnel Line, it took some little time to 
 induce him to defer his visit to another occasion. 
 
 The Chatty remained alongside three days. 
 When she departed, the battleship's opinion may 
 be expressed in the words of one of the officers, 
 who was overheard saying : " Well, let's have a 
 fleet action or anything for a quiet life, but I hope 
 it will be some months before we see those bright 
 lads again I " 
 
 2U 
 
8. The Paper Auction 
 
 WE take in a good many papers and maga- 
 zines of one sort or another in our mess. 
 The range is extensive and pecuHar. 
 Some of them seem exceedingly inappropriate for 
 the reading-matter of people whose profession is 
 " following the sea." There is, for example, the 
 Field, without which no wardroom is complete ; 
 every naval officer who has ever shot at a snipe 
 and missed it feels himself bound to vote for the 
 Field at the meeting when the selection of 
 papers is made. From that, we skip lightly to the 
 Nation, just to see what those dashed Radicals 
 have to say for themselves ; and there is a large 
 and varied assortment in between. It happens 
 consequently, since our tastes are so catholic and 
 practically every one gets all the papers of his own 
 pet fancy, that the vulgar question of paying for 
 such a large collection of literature is sometimes 
 not easy to settle. And another question also 
 arises, as to what shall be done with all the stacked- 
 up masses of old papers — such of therrh, at least., 
 as do not find their way by devious courses to the 
 mess-deck. 
 
 " Send 'em all along to the Sigk-Bay," suggests 
 
 315 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 one ; " they may help the patients to bear up 
 against the doctors' treatment ! " 
 
 And this plan is frequently adopted; so that 
 you may frequently see the sailors laid in a ham- 
 mock of sickness perusing old copies of Engineer- 
 ing or the Nineteenth Century, and other such 
 light literature ; and you would probably be 
 struck with their learned tastes, if you did not 
 happen to know that the sailor will read anything 
 from Sanskrit Grammar to Patent Medicine Ad- 
 vertisements, rather than not read at all ! 
 
 As a rule, however, the most practical plan of 
 solving the double problem is found to be that of 
 auctioning the papers for the ensuing quarter. 
 This gets rid of the old accumulation, since officers 
 who become purchasers will either post off the 
 papers to their homes or else have them sent down 
 to their cabins, there to be forgotten until such 
 time as the next appointment is gazetted. Anyhow, 
 the papers get cleared out of the mess this way I 
 
 Another great consideration is that a sum of 
 money is hereby collected sufficient to pay for the 
 papers without touching the mess subscription 
 at all, so that we can thus get more papers and still 
 more papers until the enemy — beg pardon, I was 
 thinking of something else. 
 
 There are two ways of conducting a paper 
 auction. 
 
 One is the tame method of sticking up on the 
 notice-board a detailed list of what papers are 
 being taken in, with a request that officers will 
 
 216 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 kindly write against each one the amount they are 
 willing to pay for it, the highest bidder naturally 
 getting it in each case. Thus you may see, for 
 instance : Punch : A.B., Sd. ; CD., 9d. ; E.F. 
 Is. Sd. ; G.H., Is. 6d. And G.H., of course, gets it. 
 But since this method not only fails to bring in 
 very much money, but fails also to provide us 
 with a pleasing Interlude in our monotonous round, 
 the alternative method is the one more generally 
 adopted. 
 
 " Come on, girls ! We're going to auction the 
 papers I " 
 
 " Good egg 1 Liqueurs all round, down to the 
 paper fund, I suppose ? '* 
 
 " Why, sure ! Must get you blighters into a 
 merry mood before you'll warm up and shell out 
 Kke little gentlemen I Come on, we're just going 
 to start I " 
 
 "Who's the auctioneer?'* 
 
 " Flatfoot Fred ; come on, MacNab, he'll get 
 money even out of you, ye pawky, close -fistit 
 chiel I Hoot awa' ! " 
 
 The bulwark of Empire flippantly alluded to 
 as Flatfoot Fred is standing at the end of the long 
 wardroom table, with the presidential hammer in 
 his hand, and knocks for silence till you can't hear 
 yourself speak. 
 
 " Officers, and gentlemen — and others 1 " he 
 begins ; " we have here a choice selection of the 
 very best papers that have ever been placed before 
 
 217 
 
Grand Fleet Bays 
 
 a discriminating public. Some of you will be all 
 the better for improving your little minds by read- 
 ing them; and some of you have got minds that 
 are past improving — " 
 
 *' Name 1 " cries one of the audience. 
 " Name ? Did I hear the honourable member 
 say Name ? " replies the auctioneer. " If the 
 guilty conscience of my despicable interrupter 
 wishes to have his blood-stained career held up to 
 the well-deserved opprobrium of — Oh, I'm sorry, 
 I thought I was in the new Irish Parliament 1 
 Let's get on with the good work. We'll begin with 
 the Army List, A magnificent volume, consist- 
 ing of well over six hundred pages — and you know 
 what that must cost with a paper famine on — 
 tastefully bound in a delicate shade of rose -pink." 
 
 " Tuppence," cries some one, to start the game. 
 
 ** Tuppence 1 Tuppence, did you say ? Leav- 
 ing out of the question the ignorance of grammar 
 displayed in such a remark, I would merely say 
 that tuppence is a miserly, mean, niggardly — ^' 
 
 " Tuppence-ha'p'ny." 
 
 " We don't make ha'f-yins. Any advance ? " 
 
 " Fourpence ! " 
 
 " That's better ! But if you get this for four- 
 pence you'll get more than Lloydy George's nine- 
 pennyworth. Any further offers, gentlemen?" 
 
 Eventually it gets knocked down for one-and- 
 sixpence. 
 
 " Now, then, the Tatler I All the nobs, in 
 their Sunday does 1 Brides of the week — and 
 
 218 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 how some of 'em get husbands is a living marvel ! 
 Many other thrilling features, and the advertise- 
 ments alone are worth the money ! '* 
 
 There is a great run on the Taller. A simi- 
 lar demand exists for most of the other picture - 
 papers ; though there is spirited bidding also for 
 the W aifs-and-Strays Magazine, and other such 
 publications, sent to us gratuitously. 
 
 " Lastly," says the exhausted auctioneer, after 
 an hour's hard talking, " we come to La Vie. 
 Now, then. Padre, you know you're always read- 
 ing it : what offers ? Gentlemen, I appeal to you 
 all, good money for La Vie I Decorate your 
 dug-outs, send it to your maiden aunts, present it 
 to your old Sunday school ! Study the French 
 language, read the thrilling serials — all together, 
 please, what offers ? Those of you who know what 
 Art is, now's your chance. Those who wish to 
 study the habits and customs of our gallant Allies, 
 seize this golden opportunity ! Buy it I Try it 
 in your bath ! Refuse all imitations ! Going for 
 twenty-three shillings 1 Twenty-four, thank you 1 
 Twenty-six 1 Twenty-seven ! One -pound-ten I 
 That's the spirit, true British sportsmen I La 
 Vie for One-pound-ten ! It's giving it away ! 
 Well, well, no advance ? Take it, sir, it's yours 1 — 
 Gosh, I am dry 1 Give me a drink, quick 1 " 
 
 219 
 
9. Flat Racing 
 
 WE have amongst us a certain officer who 
 rather fancies himself as an athlete, and 
 more particularly as a long-distance 
 runner. Between ourselves, his real speciality is 
 that of a long-bow drawer, and his marvellous 
 accomplishments on the track are not based on 
 any more reliable foundations than his own state- 
 ments. At least, so we all thought, until he volun- 
 teered to prove his claims by racing any of us 
 for any distance we pleased with any wager we 
 Hked. 
 
 Our First -Lieutenant, however, refused to be im- 
 pressed by any such boasting challenge. " Young 
 fraud!" he said; "he knows very well that he 
 is quite safe in making the offer; there's not a 
 chance of our going to any place fit for a race 
 of that sort within the next six months I " 
 
 " What about Bog Island ? '* suggested another 
 of us. 
 
 Bog Island is a diminutive isle where we are 
 sometimes permitted to go ashore and look at the 
 sky and the sea and the ships for the benefit of 
 our health. That is not its proper name, but it 
 
 220 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 will do for present purposes. Bog Island is not a 
 picturesque spot; in fact, the only ornamental 
 thing about it is its outline, which closely resembles 
 the pattern you make on bread and butter when 
 you wiggle treacle on it from a spoon held some 
 distance above it; you mustn't hold the spoon 
 too high, or else the treacle is very liable to 
 make patterns on the tablecloth instead of on 
 the bread and butter, and then there may be 
 trouble. 
 
 That, however, was not exactly what I was 
 going to say, although it is very interesting. I 
 meant to give a brief description of Bog Island ; 
 but on second thoughts will leave it to your 
 imagination, only remarking that the difference 
 between it and a blob of mud lies chiefly in point 
 of size. 
 
 " Bog Island would do very well,'* said our 
 Champion Runner, knowing that the place was 
 entirely unsuitable. " We could easily arrange 
 some sort of a track there — ^not a good one, of 
 course, but it could be made to do. I'll run any 
 one of you there, any distance from three miles 
 to fifty, for any money you like," 
 
 " I'll take you up," said our Quiet Man. 
 
 " What you ? ^Vhy, you've never run a race 
 in your life I '* 
 
 " Never mind ; all the better for you. You 
 challenged any one of us, and I have taken you up. 
 I will race you for fifteen miles, and, well, what 
 
 221 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 shall we say for the stakes ? Will ten quid suit 
 
 you?" 
 
 " My dear fellow, I couldn't take your money — 
 not evens, anyhow. But I'll give you ten to 
 one." 
 
 " As you please ; it's very good of you. But 
 I wish to make one condition, or, rather, two. 
 First, that I have a month to train in, and second 
 that we do not run together but on different 
 occasions, timed by a stop watch. You shall run 
 one day, and I will run the next and try to beat 
 your record." 
 
 " It's unusual," said our Athlete, " but I can 
 see no objections to it. Let us have all the 
 conditions down in writing, signed by witnesses, 
 shall we?" 
 
 " Exactly what I was going to suggest," repHed 
 our Quiet Man. 
 
 " Aren't you going to train at all ? " asked 
 the Quiet Man's friend, a fortnight later. " Look 
 at you, smoking as much as ever, not going T.T. 
 and deuce of a bit of exercise do you ever take. 
 How do you expect to win ; he is on strict training, 
 making a regular martyr of himself, just because 
 he has an idea you may be a bit of a dark 
 horse." 
 
 " Don't you worry," said the Quiet Man. " I 
 shall win all right, but I'm not going to train any 
 more than I'm doing now." 
 
 222 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 We all assembled on Bog Island to watch the 
 Athlete run his fifteen miles. As he came round 
 the winding track and passed us at each lap we 
 cheered him heartily and waved the soothing 
 drinks we had brought ashore with us — ^for our 
 own delectation, not for his ! 
 
 He did dig out, and stuck the course manfully. 
 At the end of the twelfth mile he showed signs 
 of distress, but still he kept on. Finally he fell 
 down exhausted at our feet, at the conclusion of 
 the complete distance, and we revived him with 
 long whiskies -and -sodas. 
 
 Presently he sat up smiling, and said con- 
 fidently, " Well, I don't think old Slow-Coach will 
 beat that in a hurry 1 " 
 
 The morrow came, and once more we all 
 assembled on Bog Island. 
 
 The Quiet Man — who was also our Torpedo - 
 Lieutenant — brought with him a couple of leading- 
 torpedomen, some poles, wires, string, an electric 
 battery, and a collection of other gear. 
 
 " What on earth are you going to do with all 
 that stuff ? " we asked. 
 
 He did not answer, but proceeded with the help 
 of his assistants to erect four poles like miniature 
 goal-posts, each pair exactly one foot from the 
 other pair. Some four feet from the ground an 
 extremely fine wire was stretched taut across the 
 first pair of posts, and the other pair was then 
 treated in the same way. The wires were then led 
 
 228 
 
Gra7id Fleet Days 
 
 to the battery, which in its turn was connected up 
 with a curious -looking clock. 
 
 When all was ready, our Quiet Man took off 
 his coat, and retired to a little distance from the 
 parallel posts, facing them. Then he said " Stand- 
 by," and dashed forward, breaking through the 
 two thin wires almost simultaneously. When he 
 had done this he stopped and said, " What do you 
 make it ? " 
 
 The first leading-torpedoman consulted his elec- 
 trical clock and said, " As near as I can make it, 
 sir, one hundredth part of a second." 
 
 "Call it a little less, to be on the safe side," 
 said the Quiet Man ; "let it go at eighty-eight 
 feet per second. That's at the rate of a mile 
 a minute. Rig up the wires again and I'll do the 
 second foot I " 
 
 " What the, why the— look here, what's this ? '* 
 shouted our Athlete, dimly perceiving that he was 
 being " had." 
 
 " Oh, it's quite all right," said the Quiet Man ! 
 "I'm going to do my fifteen miles one foot at a 
 time ; there's nothing in the conditions laid down 
 to say that I may not, is there ? " 
 
 We all supported him in this. 
 
 " Of course," he said, " it will take some little 
 time to get through the whole course ; but I 
 reckon that when it is all over I shall be found 
 to have done my fifteen miles in something under 
 fifteen minutes. Can you beat that, do you 
 think?" 
 
 224 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 The race was not run out to a finish, and the 
 stakes were not paid. Mutual arrangement settled 
 all this. But our Athlete has not talked half so 
 much about his achievements since the great day 
 of the race. 
 
 825 
 
10. The Squeegee Band 
 
 OF all the light cruisers in H.M. Navy, the 
 Flanders was the smartest, cleanest, sport- 
 ingest, in fact everything-est, on the top 
 line in any department you may like to mention. 
 She carried away the most first prizes at squadron 
 regattas, her boxing men knocked out the best 
 fighters of the whole battle -squadron to which 
 they were once temporarily attached, at all evolu- 
 tions she was always ahead of her sister-ships, and 
 her paint looked as if it were newly-done for a 
 Spithead review. No other ship of the class would 
 dream of disputing the Flanders' superiority in 
 any point — ^with one sole exception; her sister- 
 ship, H.M.S. Belgium, considered herself not only 
 equal to the Flanders, but indeed far superior. 
 
 Chiefly they based their arrogant claims on the 
 undoubted fact that they had seen more actual 
 scrapping than the Flanders — ^which they were 
 rude enough to call the Glanders when they met 
 men of the rival ship, though they did not meet 
 very often, since experience had shown that it 
 was not wise to allow the two crews ashore at the 
 same time. It was rumoured, in fact, that before 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 this wise decree was brought into force the naval 
 hospitals were principally kept going by Flanders 
 and Belgiums who had met in the street and argued 
 the point. 
 
 Judge then of the consternation created when 
 the First Lieutenant of the Flanders burst into the 
 wardroom one morning with the horrifying an- 
 nouncement : " Bless my pretty little eyes '* — (or 
 words to that effect) — " if they haven't weathered 
 us. They've got a band 11" 
 
 Every one in the wardroom understood quite 
 well who " they " meant ; their hated rivals, the 
 Belgiums 1 
 
 " A band 1 " they echoed blankly. 
 
 *' Oh, why didn't we think of it before ? " wailed 
 the First Lieutenant ; and then, with the natural 
 desire to blame somebody else — " Why some of 
 you fellows couldn't have started the idea beats 
 me 1 Here am I slaving night and day to think 
 
 out schemes to buck the ship up while you " 
 
 He broke down here in his utter inability to find 
 words sufficient to cope with the situation. 
 
 " What sort of a band have they got ? " asked 
 one of the company after a painful interval of 
 silence. 
 
 *' Oh, a squeegee band of sorts ; a couple of 
 accordions, an ocarina, and some tin whistles : 
 one man plays the fiddle, and they've bought 
 a drum. And they knock out some very good 
 music, too I I met a fellow ashore yesterday 
 
 227 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 who told me about it. They mean to have their 
 precious band up to play at doubling-round, and 
 there is some talk of their switching it on for church 
 on Sundays 1 " 
 
 "I'll tell you what," suggested another officer 
 presently — " let's beat them at their own game 1 
 We'll get up a band, too — only ours shall be a 
 pukka one, not a squeegee band 1 " 
 
 " And how on earth are we going to manage that, 
 Brainy?" asked the First Lieutenant sarcasti- 
 cally. " We've only got one musician rating in the 
 ship, and he can't play any instrument except the 
 paint-brush ! " 
 
 " You leave it to me," replied the other, 
 darkly. 
 
 The First Lieutenant read aloud from the signal- 
 chit in his hand : " Wardroom officers of H.M.S. 
 Belgium accept with much pleasure the kind invita- 
 tion of wardroom officers of H.M.S. Flanders 
 to dine with them on the anniversary of their 
 commission." 
 
 " That's all right, then," he said. " I was 
 half afraid they might not come. Now, see that 
 every one of them has a band programme stuck 
 bang in front of him at dinner." 
 
 " By Jove ! music ? We didn't expect that 1 
 Hired for the evening, I suppose ? Dashed good 
 of you ! " exclaimed one of the Belgiums, as he 
 took his seat at the wardroom table. 
 
 22$ 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 " Oh, dear no ! That's just our band — our 
 Squeegee Band I You mustn't expect very much 
 from it, you know; they do their best — ^they do 
 their best ! " 
 
 Just as he spoke, the opening crash of an operatic 
 overture sounded on their ears. Played, too, by a 
 very efficient orchestra. As the dinner proceeded 
 other musical numbers followed ; a selection from 
 Gilbert and Sullivan, a solo on the 'cello, and 
 finally " Pomp and Circumstance " ; no regular 
 ship's band could have played better. 
 
 The Belgium's First Lieutenant began to smell a 
 rat. " I should like to see your band after dinner, 
 if I might," said he ; " you know I take an interest 
 in music — I run our band, our Squeegee Band ; but, 
 of course, it's nothing to compare with yours ! " 
 
 Half-an-hour later he was led to inspect them. 
 He saw two chief stokers, an armourer, a private 
 of marines, three able seamen, a writer, and a sick- 
 berth attendant; all tuning up their instruments 
 for an " extra." 
 
 Still, he had his suspicions, though he said 
 nothing. 
 
 Next morning the same officer came on board 
 unexpectedly, just after Divisions. When the 
 Flanders' men were doubling round the decks, 
 sure enough, the band was playing for them, and 
 the bandsmen were the same ratings as the night 
 before. 
 
 Even this did not altogether allay his suspicions. 
 
 229 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 He went back to his own ship muttering : "I'm 
 sure there's something snide about it, if I could 
 only put my finger on what it is ! " 
 
 He cogitated deeply on the matter for many 
 days, and then a brilliant idea occurred to 
 him. 
 
 " The Belgiums actually want to borrow our 
 band ! " exclaimed the Flanders' First Lieutenant ; 
 " pretty cool cheek of them, isn't it ? What do 
 you think — shall we let them go, or make some 
 excuse?" 
 
 " Oh, let them go," advised his confidant ; " it 
 will just take the shine out of them finally; they 
 won't talk about their Squeegee Band after their 
 ship's company have heard ours, I bet ! " 
 
 " But d'you think it'll be all right ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; they will only have to play and then 
 come off again ; they won't be away from the ship 
 more than a couple of hours." 
 
 But they were longer than that. The Belgium's 
 afternoon entertainment to local munition-workers 
 was suddenly cut short by a signal ordering her 
 to put to sea immediately. Her First Lieutenant 
 grinned as he pushed the guests ashore. " Sorry 
 I can't keep the boats down long enough to send 
 the Flanders' band back to their ship; they'll 
 have to go to sea with us for this trip. Let them 
 join up with the proper messes and fall in with 
 the rest ! " 
 
 The Chief Stoker on watch in the Belgium stoke- 
 
 230 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 hold brought two men up before the Engineer 
 Office r-of -the -Watch. " Can't make nothin' out o' 
 these people from the Flanders, sir," he reported ; 
 " they don't seem to know much about stokin' ; 
 one of 'em arst me where the coal-box was kept, 
 and the other wanted the loan of a pair of gloves 
 to keep his 'ands clean ! " 
 
 Almost at the same moment an able seaman 
 of the Flanders' band was being requested to " get 
 that Handy-Billy from over there " : "Do you 
 mean that small boy dressed in seaman's costume 
 with the trumpet at his side ? " he repHed ; " come 
 here, Billy; this gentleman wants you ! " 
 
 And simultaneously, the Flanders' sick- berth 
 attendant was being ordered by the surgeon to 
 take the temperature of certain cot cases in the 
 bay. " Where shall I take them, sir? " he asked; 
 " would you like them here, or where will you 
 have them?" 
 
 All these matters being in time related to 
 the Belgium's First Lieutenant, that officer pro- 
 ceeded to muster his unwilling guests, and said 
 to them : " Now then, own up I What, in the 
 name of fortune, are you, and where do you come 
 from ? " 
 
 " We used to be the orchestra of the Plus Ultra 
 Cinema," they explained, " till a gentleman on 
 the Flanders offered us better pay if we would 
 come and play on his boat and dress ourselves like 
 sailors I " 
 
 231 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 The Flanders' band is no more ; and if by chance 
 the Belgium's men meet their rivals ashore, they 
 make gestures illustrative of playing musical in- 
 struments ; and then the police have their work 
 cut out for them. 
 
 232 
 
11. Parlour Games 
 
 THE naval officer on the stage is always 
 occupied either in making love to the 
 heroine — sometimes in addition to all the 
 other young ladies of the compay as well — or 
 else in wading through ber-lud with a revolver 
 in one hand, a sword in the other, and a musket 
 slung round the back of his neck. In the intervals 
 he is popularly supposed to be sailing a cutter 
 single-handed, and laughing the winds and the 
 waves to scorn — or some seamanlike pastime of a 
 similar nature. 
 
 But if you catch him in his off time, so to speak, 
 you will probably find the average naval officer 
 practising tricks with matches — ^if he isn't asleep 
 on the settee ; or else he is laboriously trying to 
 beat his own record with the poker dice, and throw 
 five of each in less than seventy throws. Or, 
 again, he is very possibly playing chess. 
 
 We had quite a chess wave during the first 
 winter of the war. A grave silence — almost, 
 in fact the silence of the grave — ^used to pervade 
 the wardroom in the evenings after dinner. Half 
 a dozen games would be going at once ; and for a 
 non-player to cough loudly or let a book drop on 
 
 233 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 the deck was as much as his life was worth. A 
 hint at bridge was received with frowns of disap- 
 proval; and if a newcomer joined the ship the 
 first question put to him was, " By the way, are 
 you a chess-player by any chance ? " We organised 
 chess tournaments, then more tournaments, until 
 every player had won a prize. We bought hand- 
 books on chess, and studied gambits and end- 
 games, and lots of jolly things like that. Oh, 
 we did have a gay time ! 
 
 I cannot exactly say what it was that caused 
 chess to fade away into the land of outworn 
 pleasures. But it did, and an effort to revive it 
 the following winter failed utterly. Here and there 
 a couple of bold fellows announced that they were 
 opening the chess season ; but we just shook our 
 heads dubiously, and showed that there was 
 Nothing Doing ! we refused to be stirred from our 
 lethargy. 
 
 After a time billiards took the place of chess. 
 Some enterprising ship invested in a small-sized 
 billiard -table, and all the other ships followed 
 suit — as is always the case. In a very little while 
 the ship that didn't possess a table was simply 
 no class at all. 
 
 You may have heard of Van John, with varia- 
 tions — (cultured and refined folk speak of it as 
 Vingt-et-un) — but on board ship we have billiards 
 with variations. The most usual form of variation 
 is that the game becomes a sort of cross between 
 billiards and bowls. This, you must note, is not 
 
 234. 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 from any choice on our part, but simply owing 
 to the Exigencies of the Service. 
 
 For instance, having carefully levelled the table 
 before starting — you do this by putting All the 
 World's Fighting Ships under one leg of the table, 
 and Lean's Royal Navy List, which is a trifle 
 thicker, under the other — you proceed to play; 
 and just as you are taking a fine shot you are made 
 aware that this is the moment which the officer-of- 
 the-day has chosen for hoisting in all boats ; and 
 a sudden list shows that the main-derrick has just 
 been swung outboard, giving the ship a heel of a 
 couple of degrees, more or less ; sufficient, anyway, 
 to make you miss your fine shot and score — one 
 to your opponent ! 
 
 Another variation is when those handy fellows 
 on the upper deck open up the wardroom skylights 
 after a shower of rain, and the accumulated water — 
 about half a bucketful — descends generously upon 
 the green cloth. Billiards played on a soaking wet 
 table has a peculiar character of its own and calls 
 for the nicest judgment. If you hit hard enough 
 you may not perhaps get what you were trying 
 for, but you are quite likely to get something 
 else ; and, after all, everything counts, and the 
 other fellow isn't in any better case than you 
 are ! 
 
 Dominoes have had quite a vogue with us ; 
 but the people who have had experience at the 
 Shanghai Club have an advantage which less 
 travelled individuals can hardly be expected to 
 
 235 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 compete against. In fact, if you can believe 
 their yams, the chief Hfe-work of people in Shang- 
 hai would appear to be playing dominoes. There 
 is a suite of gilded saloons entirely reserved for 
 this purpose with a staff of compradors or matadors 
 — or something like that — ^to count up the pips 
 for the players at the end of each game ; and the 
 ordinary wedding present consists of a set of domi- 
 noes, in priceless jade or Ming ware for swells 
 like the Government House set and the clerks of 
 the Shanghai Bank, down to bone ones for ordinary 
 people like naval officers. But, of course, these 
 stories may not be strictly accurate; you can 
 never believe half what these people who have 
 been on the China Station tell you. 
 
 For a little while we indulged in trifling with 
 wire puzzles, irritating affairs, consisting of com- 
 plicated rings and keys and loops of metal, with the 
 same motif running through them all — ^namely, 
 that you had to take something off something else 
 and then to put it on again. Not that there was 
 the least object in taking the silly thing to pieces ; 
 it was all very well as it was at first — so long 
 as you let it alone it would let you alone; nor 
 was it at all clear that any useful purpose was 
 served by piecing the affair together again when 
 once it had been taken apart. You had two, 
 or perhaps three, perfectly good pieces of metal 
 which made excellent tobacco -stoppers, so why 
 take the trouble to put them once more into a 
 hopeless tangle of no use to anybody? 
 
 236 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 At all events, we did play with these wretched 
 things ; until we ran the risk of being put " under 
 observation," with Yarmouth looming up in the 
 near foreground ; at which point we chucked them 
 and turned our attention to something else. 
 
 287 
 
12. The Last Interlude 
 
 THE ship was merrily rolling her way home 
 to her base, and every man on board was 
 as happy as happy as could be. For had 
 they not been in action at last after many months 
 of waiting, and had they not also themselves 
 accounted for two of the enemy? 
 
 The general happiness took various forms. 
 With the captain, who had been on the bridge 
 for thirty-six consecutive hours, it took the form 
 of sleep, after the most delicious hot bath he 
 had ever enjoyed ; his cabin was a wreck, a shell 
 having entered at one side, exploding and reduc- 
 ing all the furniture and gear to a mass of 
 cinders, and leaving a gaping rent four yards long 
 in the ship's side through which the blue sky 
 was seen and the tops of the waves lopped in now 
 and again ; but the captain lay like a log on the 
 bare deck with a rolled-up coat under his head, 
 and smiled in his sleep. 
 
 The watch below were singing in their messes ; 
 breaking off at times and lapsing into a half- 
 shamed silence, because there were nearly two score 
 
 288 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 poor fellows who would never sing with them 
 again. 
 
 But when battles are fought some men must 
 lose the number of their mess, and what better way 
 to go out than in a fight for King and country? 
 So the cheeriness prevailed over the sadness, and 
 those who sang loudest were those who would be 
 the readiest to put their hands into their pockets 
 for the widows and orphans. 
 
 The stokers down below and the chippy-chaps 
 above and around and all over the place were the 
 busiest of all on board. The former were grinning 
 joyfully at the recollection of having done their 
 bit towards winning the day, and of having knocked 
 two knots more than she had ever done before 
 out of the old junk ; the latter were making such 
 temporary repairs as they could, plugging shot- 
 holes and clearing away debris, and doing it with 
 the satisfaction of a bruised and battered fighter 
 who says cheerfully, " But you should see the other 
 fellow I " 
 
 One other group of workers was perhaps busier 
 still; these were the surgeons and the sick-berth 
 attendants, down in the medical distributing flats 
 for the most part. They had to perform operation 
 after operation, working hour after hour without 
 rest or intermission, braced to their work by the 
 marvellous grit and courage that their badly 
 wounded patients displayed. 
 
 The less serious cases had already received 
 
 239 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 *' first-aid," sometimes at the hands of their mess- 
 mates, and were content to be left comfortable for 
 a time, until further care could be given them, one 
 of the sick-berth staff having taken the precaution 
 to cast an eye over them and see that all was well 
 for the present. 
 
 " There are no cases amongst the officers, 
 then ? " questioned the fleet-surgeon, as he washed 
 his hands in carbolic solution before tackling 
 another amputation. 
 
 " Only Mr. Suckling, sir," answered the Sick- 
 berth Steward, " and he says he can do very well 
 as he is for the time ; he's lying on his bunk, and 
 has a dressing on his wound ; he says he isn't in 
 any pain." 
 
 " Good ! " said the doctor, and fell to his work 
 again. 
 
 The officer who was the subject of this hurried 
 conversation was at this moment peacefully smok- 
 ing a cigarette, and chatting at ease with three or 
 four of his brother officers. These came to the 
 cabin in relays, never leaving him to feel lonely; 
 it seemed tough luck that he should be the only 
 one of them all to be wounded. Notwithstanding 
 there were many who envied him ; it is something 
 to have been wounded, after all, let alone the 
 sick-leave that would all come in good time after 
 convalescence. 
 
 " Sure you feel quite comfy. Baby? " " Baby " 
 was, naturally. Suckling's nickname ; how could 
 
 240 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 it be otherwise ? " Babes and sucklings *' are 
 always bracketed together, and besides, he had 
 such innocent blue eyes I 
 
 " Quite, thanks, old man. I get a bit of a 
 twinge every now and then, but so long as I keep 
 still in the one position Tm all kiff. There's a 
 deuce of a lot of blood, though; it has soaked 
 right through the bandages." 
 
 " We'll get one of the doctors to look at you 
 presently, old thing; don't suppose they'll be long 
 now." 
 
 " Oh, for goodness' sake leave them to deal with 
 those that need them more than I do I There's 
 some pretty bad cases, aren't there ? " 
 
 " Yes. You know Stilingfleet, in your division ? 
 Well he's got to have his leg off above the knee I " 
 
 " Poor devil ! Beastly rough luck that. Ough ! " 
 
 "What is it? Hurting you. Baby?" 
 
 " All right again now; but that was a bit of a 
 twister ! " 
 
 " Perhaps we'd better clear out, some of us. 
 Too much company isn't good for you, I expect." 
 
 " Well, don't all go. Brabazon, you're not 
 busy, are you ? " 
 
 " No, Baby." 
 
 " Well, then, don't go. I say, I'm feeling jolly 
 perky, you know 1 It was a ripping show, wasn't 
 it? And just top-hole to get the old packet 
 knocked about a bit — ^just enough to get two or 
 three weeks' refit ! " 
 
 » 241 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 " Well, you are a nice patriotic blighter, I don't 
 think 1 " 
 
 " Oh, well, one ship more or less out of action for 
 a time won't matter much — especially now the 
 Huns have had such a knocking about that they 
 won't think of leaving harbour for a good while 
 to come. It's very unselfish of me, really; I'm 
 sure of my own leave, anyhow, and I'm only 
 thinking of you." 
 
 " Very nice of you, I'm sure ! But we shan't 
 have a nice fair young thing to hold our hands and 
 look unutterable things into our eyes like you will ! " 
 
 " Well ! Then you should get engaged, like 
 me. I say, good idea; it wouldn't be a bad plan 
 to get married while I'm on the convalescent 
 racket ! By Jove ! I shall bless this jolly old wound 
 if it means working in a honeymoon 1 " 
 
 *' Think you'll be well enough ? " 
 
 " Why, sure ! It doesn't worry me even now 
 except — Ow 1 That comes of talking about it — 
 bad joss ! " 
 
 " Would you like to write a line to her now, just 
 to put in the time ? " 
 
 " No, I don't think so, thanks. I'll do that from 
 the hospital ship as soon as I get on board. Lord I 
 She is such a brick — just the sweetest. You don't 
 mind my drivelling away like that, old man? 
 Don't tell any of the other fellows. I can't help 
 it. If you only knew her, you would — " 
 
 "Go on, you dear old ass, if it pleases you; 
 
 242 
 
Grand Fleet Interludes 
 
 Tm. sure you're quite right about her. Hullo, 
 here comes the Fleet-Surgeon." 
 
 Suckling turned his head on the pillow with a 
 cheery grin. 
 
 " Hullo, you Man of Blood, come to cheer the 
 sick and wounded ? It seems a bit hard ; I was all 
 right till you came." 
 
 " None of your lip, young fellow-my-lad," re- 
 plied the kindly doctor-man. " Well, and what's 
 wrong with you ? " 
 
 " fiit of a hole punched in my tummy by a 
 splinter, that's all ! " 
 
 " That's all 1 " said the Fleet-Surgeon, anxiously. 
 *' And quite enough, too, I should think ! " 
 
 " Oh, well, it doesn't hurt much, though I've 
 been bleeding like a pig." 
 
 " Well, let's have a look at it. Where is it ? 
 Who put that bandage on ? " 
 
 " I did, myself. Top-hole job, wasn't it ? I 
 say. Doc. — I shall get a drop of leave out of this, 
 shan't I?" 
 
 The doctor was busying himself in trying to get 
 the bandage clear and inspect the damage. He 
 did not reply to Baby's question, because just at 
 the moment he should have done so he cried 
 " Good God ! " — ^then dashed to the cabin door and 
 shouted wildly for assistance. Then he came 
 quickly back to the side of the bunk whereon the 
 patient lay. He appeared to swallow down some- 
 thing before speaking, and for a moment averted 
 
 243 
 
Grand Fleet Days 
 
 his eyes before he directed them full and steadily 
 into Suckling's face. 
 
 Then, " Baby, old man," he said; " you're going 
 to get leave all right — long leave ; and very soon. 
 Understand ? " 
 
 THE END 
 
 Printed in Great Britain by Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, 
 brunswick st., stamford st., s.b. 1, and bonoay, suffolk. 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 IN THE NORTHERN MISTS 
 
 A GRAND FLEET CHAPLAIN S NOTE-BOOK 
 5s. net 
 
 " • Partimeus' has hitherto stood almost alone, but now t he anonymous 
 author oi 'In the Northern Mists' must take place beside him as an 
 expounder ol lite at sea." — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 " Nothing, so far as one can remember, gives as good a n idea as this 
 bot'k does ot lite \n the koval Navy in time o( war. ' — World. 
 
 " It brings to us as we sit at ease the very scent and sound of the sea, the 
 murmurous crowded life of the ships that pass on their lawful occasions. 
 Here we meet familiarly — introduced by a Chaplain who is the equal oi ail, 
 since, unlike his less fortunate brother of the Army, he has neither rank nor 
 rating — representatives of every grade in the service, up to captain's rank. 
 . . . In this book is the Navy to the life. It can be nothing less. It is as 
 convincing as a Somme fihn Also it is literature. . . . The book is one 
 which any saint might be provoked to steal. . . . This is a hook which 
 every bLiiglistinian would appreciate. " — Churck Times. 
 
 " Here are fifty-six capital yarns about life in the Grand Fleet in war 
 time, by the Chaplain oi one oi the large vessels. The author has the 
 seeing eye and understanding heart, and, writing in a pleasant and discursive 
 style, is able to convey to his readers an excellent idea of the soul of the 
 Navy and the spirit — brave, cheery, and patient — of its officers and men. 
 In all the sketches the Padre succeeds in throwing interesting sidelights upon 
 phases of life in the Meet which are not to be tuund in more serious books. 
 The result is a volume which can be dipped into at any time with the 
 assurance of providing a delightful half-hour. " — Times Literary Supplement. 
 
 " Full of intimate touches, and full of good stories of quarter-deck and 
 lower-deck. . . . The Padre is a man of infinite humour, as all truly 
 religious men are. There is not a line of preaching in his book, an there 
 is many a good yarn, but, for all that, it is a good book, it is a book of 
 manliness and cleanliness and godliness. Read his one httle incursion mto 
 religion, 'Small Cords,' and you will love him for a practical muscular 
 Christian." — Daily Express. 
 
 " The unnamed Padre . . . tells us a great deal about the little ways of 
 the Services, the psychology of its members, and the spirit that animates 
 them ; and always in a style so entertaining as well as sympathetic that 
 these pages from his note-book should prove one of the most popular and 
 appreciated of books that the war has directly or indirectly inspired." — 
 Scotsman. 
 
"A thoroughly absorbing collection of studies of the men watching in 
 the North Sea. Each chapter of this book presents a fresh phase of naval 
 life, but whether it is 'Swakking,' 'Concerning a Bucket,' or 'Wireless,' 
 the interest never diminishes. Perhaps the distinctive feature of all naval 
 books is their humour, which can be found in every page ; it may be that 
 it is a quahty so imbued in the daily life of naval men that it peeps forth in 
 all they write. Certainly we are comforted as well as delighted to know 
 that the long northern vigil does not make men all nerves or steel. The note 
 of humanity in these sketches makes them come home to us w ith that touch 
 of nature which makes the whole world kin." — Liverpool Post. 
 
 "One can envy all ranks of the battleship on which this human writer 
 may happen to serve, for there is an element in his writings which stamps 
 him as a true man, full of kindness. . . . Laughter of the most exquisite 
 kind flows from nearly every page of the hook, lor the Chaplain has a 
 keen sense of humour, and the skill to translate his humorous senses to 
 paper. Every note is a human photograph, and the reader joins heartily in 
 the laughter over the ' scrap ' for the lost bucket on the lower-deck, or in 
 the 'cag' in the wardroom over the wedding-present." — Military Mail. 
 
 " Anything that brings us in touch with the hidden life that they live upon 
 the high seas is inexpressibly welcome, and a Grand Fleet Chaplain's note- 
 book, vividly portraying some of his experiences ' In the Northern Mists ' 
 delightfully lilts several corners of the veil." — Glode. 
 
 "Would you know something of the inner domestic life of the British 
 Fleet? This ' Grand Fleet Chaplain's Note- Book ' takes the reader into the 
 inner temple. It is as intimate as any volume dealing with the great sea 
 service can be. It deals with the mysteries of the Navy, of which the 
 landsman has hitherto known little. The author was once a curate, and in 
 going to sea he has gained an insight into the soul of the navy such as no 
 other men, except padres of exactly the right sort, can obtain. . . . This 
 chaplain is a close observer, and he has a nice sense of humour. He has 
 picked up a collection of stories which alone would redeem any book, how- 
 ever written, from being dull. But this volume is not dull ; every page is 
 full of hfe." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 ' ' He gives us a picture of a life from which all sham has departed, where 
 men trust each other and hve for each other, for the Service and for the 
 country. But there is not the faintest trace of ' pose ' in any of the fifty-six 
 little sketches of which the volume is composed. To pick and choose is 
 difficult. There is an abundance of good stories scattered throughout the 
 book." — Observer. 
 
 "A war-book equally attractive on account of its subject and its distinction 
 in presentation. The Chaplain possesses all the qualities that go to the 
 making of a good book — iusii^ ht. humour, svnipattiv, breadth, and a literary 
 skill ol quite unusual vc^nee." —Aberdeen I'ree Press. 
 
 HODDER & STOUGHTON, PUBLISHERS, LONDON. 
 
^m- 
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY