IN ACTION

Two days after leaving Zanzibar we reached Mombasa, and since no native labour was available, and the heat was too great to allow of our working by day, we commenced coaling at 4 p.m., and coaled all night, taking in about 1200 tons. Early next morning we were under way again, and a fortnight later we dropped anchor at Aden. We went ashore on leave while the ship was being coaled by native labour, and in the evening proceeded again to sea. Next day we sighted the coast of Somaliland, where a furious sand-storm was raging, and a huge wall of red sand hung above the cliffs, extending some distance over the water. Little more than a week later we arrived at Suez, having accomplished the passage of the Red Sea without any incident worth recording. We stayed the day at Suez, and in the evening got under way and traversed the Canal by night, dropping anchor at Port Said on the following morning. Again we went on leave while coaling was in progress, and next morning resumed our journey. Two days later we received a wireless message ordering us to put back to Port Said and there prepare to repel an expected attack by Turkish infantry on the Canal; and, further, we were instructed to make preparation to receive the Admiral of the port, who intended to hoist his flag in our ship. We at once set to work to protect our bridge and tops by means of sand-bags, hammocks, and grass ropes; and all the Captain’s furniture was removed from the after-cabin. Also the 12-pounders and searchlight positions were screened with thin steel plates. However, before we sighted land all these orders were cancelled, as, apparently, the Turkish attack was no longer anticipated.

We now spent three days in Port Said, and while there I distinguished (?) myself by running our steam-pinnace aground!! It happened in this way: I had offered to relieve Barton in charge of the said pinnace, and owing to imperfect knowledge of the harbour, a very tricky one, I steered the boat firmly on to a sand-bank which lay within a biscuit’s throw of the ship. Three native boys endeavoured to assist me by jumping into the water and shoving at the boat, but they only made matters worse. Eventually, after going full speed astern for a good five minutes, I got her off, and went alongside the ship. I was greeted by the Commander with a proper slanging, and ordered to pay the native boys, who were clamouring for backsheesh in reward of their fancied assistance. In my agitation I grossly overpaid the interfering brutes, and the Commander then told me to do penance for my carelessness by keeping the dog-watch. As a matter of fact it was my dog-watch anyway; but I did not feel called upon to tell him so!

•••••••

On the morning of the fourth day we again got under way for the Dardanelles, and arrived there on the 25th of April.

We steamed round the island of Tenedos, and took up our station at the end of a line of some ten or more ships already anchored there. During the voyage over I had been appointed in charge of the picket boat, and as soon as we had anchored my boat was lowered to take some officers to a cruiser which was going to take them over to the Dardanelles to have a look at the positions we were going to attack on the following morning. There was a considerable sea running, and as soon as the slings were slackened, and the boat began to ride to the waves, the starboard funnel, which was hinged to allow of its being laid flat when she was in the crutches, and had not yet been raised and secured, was so shaken by the violent motion of the boat that it snapped off close to the deck and rolled overboard. This made steering with a head wind very difficult, as the smoke all went into the steersman’s eyes instead of being carried over his head; but I was not the sufferer on this occasion, as I did not take this particular trip, being busy on some important work in another part of the ship, and a substitute was sent in my place.

By this time a change had been made in our routine, and none of us were now officers’ messengers, with the exception of Cunninghame and Baker, who were A.D.C.s to the Captain and the navigator respectively. The remaining seven were watch-keepers, and in this way there were two “snotties” to every watch but one.

Soon after my boat had gone away, having on board the Captain, Commander, captain of marines, and officers of turrets, a collier came alongside and we commenced coaling. My boat being duty steamboat (known in the vernacular as D.S.B.), I did not have to assist in coaling, and as soon as she returned from the cruiser “——,” I was sent away in her with dispatches for the Flagship. One of my bowmen did not turn up when the boat’s crew was piped, and when he eventually appeared the silly fool went and fell into the ditch! He was soon pulled out, however, and we started down the line. On the horizon I could see the mouth of the Dardanelles and one or two ships firing at intervals. As we passed down the Fleet I noticed one ship with half her funnel-casing blown off and another with a bit of her stern-walk missing, which showed we didn’t always get it all our own way with the Turk.

After I had delivered my dispatches I returned to the ship and was promptly sent away again to take the gunner to the store-ship Fauvette to get some gunnery instruments. By this time the sea was very big for a small steamboat, and was almost dead on the beam. We were rolling nearly 60° each side, and constantly shipping seas, which poured down the stump of the broken funnel and nearly put the furnace out. The store-ship was a good two miles away, and it took us nearly half-an-hour to reach her. At last we got within about twenty yards of her, and I ran my boat down the leeside, looking for a ladder or gangway; seeing none, I ran under her stern and went alongside to windward of her. Here the seas were enormous, and as we rose on a huge wave the gunner leaped for the ladder, missed his footing, hung on for a second, and then dropped into the sea between the boat and the ship’s side. We managed to haul him out at once, but it was a bit of luck that the boat was not carried in towards the ship’s side by a wave, as it would most certainly have crushed, and probably killed him. Once he was safe on board again I hailed the ship and asked them to put out a ladder on the leeside, as I could see it was much too dangerous work going alongside to windward, and I didn’t care to risk it again. Eventually the gunner’s mission was safely accomplished, and we returned to our own ship without further incident.

After lunch I had to get my boat coaled and watered, and at about 5 p.m. the cruiser with our officers on board came back to her moorings, and I was sent to bring them off to our ship again. Then at 6.30. I had to take the Torpedo Lieutenant and the gunner (T.) over to H.M.S. “——,” and to wait an hour for them, lying off in the dark with a big sea running. Thank goodness I am a good sailor—don’t know what it is to be sea-sick; but anyone less fortunate in their interior economy would have had an uncommonly miserable time! As it was I was only rather cold, very hungry, and very bored. At last they reembarked and I returned on board and got my dinner, which I was much in need of.

That night we put to sea, and at 2 on the following morning “Action” sounded—the great landing at Gallipoli had begun. All water-tight doors were hastily closed and all electric light cut off.

We had to go up on deck to get to the Fore T.S., and away to the right could be seen the first faint streaks of dawn, and the land showing very faintly against the sky.

Down in the Fore T.S. we worked by candlelight, eagerly awaiting the sunrise when the great bombardment would begin.

•••••••

Of that bombardment he spoke but little, and wrote not at all. I think he felt it too big a thing to tackle.

The epic of the Gallipoli landings will, let us hope, one day be written by a pen worthy to depict that immortal tale of heroism, but I doubt if the whole truth can ever be spoken or written. There are some things of which men cannot and will not speak. A word, a sentence here and there, may lift for a moment a corner of the veil, but only those who went through that inferno will ever fully realise its horror.

Of my boy’s own small part in it all I know a little—but only a very little. The ship was concerned in the landing at—— Beach, and at 10 o’clock one morning he was sent away in his boat to fetch the wounded from the beach in question. Of course other midshipmen were doing the same thing in other boats.

Batch after batch of men horribly wounded, hideously mutilated, were rescued under fire, and conveyed to the hospital ships. He spoke—brokenly—of the terrible wounds, the all-pervading stench of blood rising up beneath the fierce rays of the sun from his reeking boat; of the magnificent, indescribable heroism and patience of men mangled, and shattered, and torn.

Once for a time the ship had to go away down the straits for two miles, and he had to read the signals giving orders where to convey the rescued—and so—work on. One day he was on that duty from 10 in the morning until half-past 1 at night.

”What did you do for food?” I asked—perhaps foolishly.

“Oh, they threw me down a lump of cheese and a ship’s biscuit, somewhere about midday, when I happened to be alongside.”

“And was that all you had in all those hours? Surely they might have seen you had at least something to eat!”

“Eat—” he exclaimed scornfully, and then very patiently: “Don’t you see, Mother, it was a question ofmen’s lives! Some were bleeding to death; every second counted—— How could we think of eating!”

So—shamed—I held my peace, hearing only that “it was a question of men’slives.”

And these were the boys of whom a certain well-meaning but hysterical Member of Parliament wrote to the papers just after the sinking of the Aboukir, the Cressy, and the Hogue. He said it was monstrous to send such mere children to war, and that in point of fact they were of no use on the ships, and only a source of worry to their superior officers! One could wish that he had been present at Gallipoli. Some of those same boys won decorations which they may well wear proudly to-day, for they won them by deeds of magnificent fortitude and valour. Others again gave all they had—their health and their youth, and in some cases their lives, and I think the names of all those “children” are written in letters of flame on the Roll of England’s Honour—England’s Glory.

Some days later they were once more in comparative security. How comparative only those who have realised a fraction of that hell will recognise.

The ship was guarding the French flank when the end came—but—let it be told in his own words.