A Watch-dog of the North Sea: A Naval Story of the Great War

S.W. PARTRIDGE & CO. 4, 5 & 6 SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W.1
MADE IN GREAT BRITAIN First published December 1916

A bugle-call rang out shrill and clear in the wintry air.
Thank goodness—at last, murmured Eric Greenwood. That's an end to 'Action Stations' for the time being. Let me see. Tomorrow coal ship, next day make up the money. Payment on Friday, and ten to one there'll be half a gale of wind—and paper money is a strafed nuisance.
Thus musing, Assistant Paymaster Greenwood, R.N.R., completed his preparations for vacating the fore-top of H.M.S. Pompey, where he had been acting as assistant to the lieutenant in charge of the fire-control arrangements.
The fore-top, a caged-in structure measuring roughly eight feet by eight, was situated ninety feet above the upper deck. In long-range actions it took the place of the conning-tower as the brains of the ship, for in that limited aerial perch seven officers and men, all working with a common set purpose, were able to direct salvoes of death-dealing missiles with uncanny accuracy to a target invisible to the guns' crews at their stations behind six inches of Krupp steel.
Carry on, old man, said Vickers, the lieutenant, indicating a small trap-hatch in the floor of the top. Be careful; there's ice about.
Greenwood had already made up his mind to be careful. A man who, up to within fifteen months ago, had led an eminently sedate existence as a bank clerk does not take to work aloft with the same agility and confidence inspired by years of training at Osborne and Dartmouth.
At the outbreak of war Eric Greenwood was a ledger clerk at a bank in a quiet Devonshire country town. The notion of serving under the White Ensign had never occurred to him, even in his wildest dreams, until the Admiralty called for additional accountant officers for the Royal Naval Reserve. Eric promptly sent in his application. It was curtly acknowledged; and then followed weeks of tedious, sickening suspense, until, when hope seemed dead, the bank clerk received an envelope marked O.H.M.S., the contents of which transformed him into an acting assistant paymaster, R.N.R.