Читать книгу The Battle of the Falkland Islands, Before and After - Henry Edmund Harvey Spencer-Cooper - Страница 8

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"A seaman, smiling, swaggered out of the inn,

Swinging in one brown hand a gleaming cage

Wherein a big green parrot chattered and clung

Fluttering against the wires."

—Alfred Noyes (Drake).

A short digression may perhaps be permitted, if it can portray the long days, when for months at a time little occurs to break the monotony of sea life. The reader may also experience the charitable feeling that, at the expense of his patience, the sailor is indulging in the "grouse" that proverbially is supposed to be so dear to him.

Of necessity, work on board ship in wartime must be largely a matter of routine; and, though varied as much as possible, it tends to relapse into "the trivial round, the common task." All day and all night men man the guns ready to blaze off at any instant, extra look-outs are posted, and there are officers and men in the control positions. The ship's company is usually organised into three watches at night, which take turns in relieving one another every four hours.

After sunrise the increased visibility gives ample warning of any possible attack. The messdecks, guns, and ship generally are cleaned before breakfast, while the forenoon soon passes in perfecting the guns' crews and controls, and in physical drill. After dinner at noon and a smoke, everyone follows the old custom of the sea, and has a caulk (a sleep)—a custom originated in the days of sailing ships who were at sea for long periods at a time, and watch and watch (i.e. one watch on and one off) had to be maintained both day and night. The men lie about the decks, too tired to feel the want of either mattresses or pillows. The first dog watch (4–6 P.M.) is usually given up to recreation until sunset, when it is time to go to night defence stations. Day in and day out, this programme is seldom varied except to stop and examine a merchant ship now and again.

Every ship met with on the high seas is boarded for the examination of its passengers and cargo, an undertaking often attended by some difficulty on a dark night. On approaching, it is customary to signal the ship to stop; if this is not obeyed at once, a blank round is fired as a warning; should this be disregarded a shotted round is fired across her bows, but it is seldom necessary to resort to this measure. At night these excursions have a strange, unreal effect, and our boarding officer used to say that when climbing up a merchantman's side in rough weather he felt like some character in a pirate story. Getting out of a boat, as it is tossing alongside, on to a rope ladder, is by no means an easy job, especially if the officer is inclined to be portly. The searchlight, too, turned full on to the ship, blinding the scared passengers who come tumbling up, frequently imagining they have been torpedoed, adds to the mysterious effect produced, whilst the sudden appearance of the boarding officer in his night kit suggests a visit from Father Neptune. But any idea of comedy is soon shattered by the grumpy voice of the captain who has been turned out from his beauty sleep, or by the vehement objections of a lady or her husband to their cabin being searched. As a matter of fact, we were always met with the most unfailing courtesy, and the boat's crew was often loaded with presents of cigarettes or even chocolates, besides parcels of newspapers hastily made up and thrown down at the last moment.

Off a neutral coast the food problem is an everlasting difficulty, and as soon as the canteen runs out and tinned stores cannot be replenished, the menu resolves itself into a more or less fixed item of salt beef ("salt horse") or salt pork with pea soup. The old saying, "Feed the brute, if a man is to be kept happy," has proved itself true, but is one which at sea is often extraordinarily hard to follow, especially when it is impossible to get such luxuries as eggs, potatoes, and fresh meat. If flour runs out, the ship's biscuit ("hard tack"), which often requires a heavy blow to break it, forms but a poor substitute for bread; although it is quite good eating, a little goes a long way. The joy with which the advent of an armed liner is heralded by the officers cannot well be exaggerated; the stewards from all ships lose no time in trying to get all they can, and the memory of the first excellent meal is not easily forgotten.

The ever-recurring delight of coaling ship is looked forward to directly anchorage is reached. Coal-dust then penetrates everywhere, even to the food, and after a couple of hours it seems impossible for the ship ever to be clean again. Nearly every officer and man on board, including the chaplain and paymasters, join in the work, which continues day and night, as a rule, until finished. If this takes more than twenty-four hours there is the awful trial of sleeping, clothes and all, covered in grime, for hammocks have to be foregone, else they would be quite unfit for further use. The men wear any clothes they like. In the tropics it is a warm job working in the holds, and clothes are somewhat scanty. A very popular article is a bashed-in bowler hat, frequently worn with white shorts, and a football jersey! There is, generally, a wag amongst the men who keeps them cheery and happy, even during a tropical rain storm. His powers of mimicking, often ranging from politicians to gunnery instructors, bring forth rounds of applause, and all the time he'll dig out like a Trojan.

The sailor is a cheery bird, and seldom lets an opportunity of amusement escape. On one occasion, when lying at anchor in the tropics, someone suggested fishing; after the first fish had been caught many rods and lines were soon going. A would-be wit enlivened matters by tying an empty soda-water bottle on to a rather excitable man's line while he was away, which met with great success on the owner crying out, "I've got a real big 'un here" as he carefully played it to the delight of everyone. Shark fishing was a favourite sport, and three were caught and landed in one afternoon; one of them had three small sharks inside it.

The band (very few ships had the good fortune to possess one) plays from 4.30 to 5.30 P.M., when Jack disports himself in Mazurkas and d'Alberts, and dances uncommonly well before a very critical audience. Some men are always busy at their sewing machines when off duty, making clothes for their messmates; this they call "jewing"; others are barbers, or bootmakers, and they make quite a good thing out of it. Now that masts and sails are things of the past, substitutes in the way of exercise are very necessary, particularly when living on salt food. Boxing is greatly encouraged, and if competitions are organised, men go into strict training and the greatest keenness prevails. A canvas salt-water bath is usually rigged, and is in constant demand with the younger men. The officers congregate in flannels on the quarter-deck playing quoits, deck tennis, or cricket; some go in for doing Swedish exercises, Müller, or club swinging, and, to finish up with, a party is formed to run round the decks.

The Admiralty are extraordinarily good about dispatching mails to our ships, but sudden and unexpected movements often make it impossible to receive them with any regularity. When war broke out everyone wondered how their folk at home would manage, whether money and food would be easily obtainable. In our own case we were moved from our original sphere of operations, and did not get our first mail till October 19th, over eleven weeks after leaving England, and many other ships may have fared even worse. Again, our Christmas mail of 1914 was not received till six months afterwards, having followed us to the Falkland Islands, then back home, out again round the Cape of Good Hope, finally arriving at the Dardanelles. On this occasion one of the men had a pound of mutton and a plum pudding sent him by his wife; it can easily be imagined with what delight he welcomed these delicacies, which had been through the tropics several times, as did those others whose parcels were anywhere near his in the mail bag. It may appear a paltry thing to those who get their daily post regularly, but the arrival of a mail at sea is a very real joy, even to those who get but few letters. The newspapers are eagerly devoured, and events, whose bare occurrence may have only become known through meagre wireless communiqués, are at length made comprehensible.

Darkening ship at sunset is uncomfortable, more particularly in the tropics, when the heat on the messdecks becomes unbearable from lack of air. However, this is now much improved by supplying wind-scoops for the scuttles, fitted with baffles to prevent the light from showing outboard. Everyone sleeps on deck who can, risking the pleasures of being trodden upon in the dark, or of being drenched by a sudden tropical shower, when the scrum of men hastily snatching up their hammocks and running for the hatches equals that of any crowd at a football match. On moonless nights little diversions are constantly occurring. A certain officer, perfectly sober, on one occasion walked over the edge of the boat-deck into space, and then was surprised to find that he was hurt.

The hardships and anxieties of the life are probably overrated by people ashore. The very routine helps to make the sailor accustomed to the strange and unnatural conditions, nearly all of which have their humorous side. As is the way of the world, we on the coast of South America all envied those in the Grand Fleet at this time, in modern ships fitted with refrigerating rooms and plenty of good fresh food; and they, no doubt, willingly would have changed places with us, being sick to death of the uneventful life, cold, rough weather, and constant submarine strain from which we were fortunately immune. Events took such a shape a few months later that those of us who were fortunate enough to be in the battle of the Falkland Islands would not have been elsewhere for all the world.