WITH THE GRAND FLEET
Always "Ready, Aye Ready"—The Deciding Factor—One Hundred and Fifty Chaplains—On the "Bulwark"—"The Church Pennant" Postponed—Sunday on a Battleship—The Sailor and the Thought of Death—Stories from the Fleet—From a Torpedo-boat—The Shore Chaplain's Opportunity—Christian Bravery—"Save Yourself; I'll let go."
Everybody is asking, Where is the Grand Fleet? And that is just what the Germans would like to know. It has a marvellous facility for appearing and disappearing. Occasionally we receive letters bearing the address, "In the North Sea or elsewhere," and sometimes we think it is more elsewhere than there. No postmark gives its location away, no newspaper paragraph lets us into the secret. And then suddenly it appears:
Out of the everywhere into the here,
and the Germans find to their dismay a part of it off the Dogger Bank, and the sleepy Turk wakes up to find another part in the Dardanelles.
It is like one of the mysterious powers of nature—unseen, but ever exercising a powerful influence. Its existence is always felt—felt by our foes with ever-increasing pressure, and felt by us with influences always beneficial.
It sleeps not and rests not. It is always "ready, aye ready." From Admiral Sir John Jellicoe to the grimiest stoker, it is one in purpose and in action. And because it is there, we sleep well in our beds at night, and there are few of us, as we lie down to rest, but breathe a prayer for those who seem never to rest—
"God bless our sons upon the sea."
We have always been proud of our fleet, but never so proud as to-day. It expresses the genius of our nation. Our way has always been "in great waters." We talk of ourselves as "safe circled by the silver sea," but the sea would not save us without our fleet.
When the war broke out, we found ourselves asking, "How will it be with us now?" With forty million mouths to feed and only six weeks' supply of food in the country, how will it be with us now?
Our fleet has solved that problem, and food has poured into the country in plenty and everyone has been fed. It has been in every sea, chasing our enemies off the ocean, protecting trade routes, convoying troop-ships, and at the same time bottling up our enemies in their harbours.
Never was such a herculean task undertaken and never so well performed. Battleships and cruisers, torpedo boats, and submarines, all in their turn have done their work, and done it well. They are waiting they tell us for "the day" of which the enemy boasted so much, and when the day dawns they will be there.
We realise that our fleet will be the deciding fact in this war. Our soldiers have done splendidly and will continue so to do, but without our ships they would be helpless, and if once we lose command of the sea, the glory of our country will pass away. But we have no doubts and no fears. They are there—and here—everywhere.
The nation's gratitude has been shown in many ways during the war. Busy hands have worked for it, and numberless prayers have risen to God's throne on its behalf. As an instance of what has been done, I quote the figures of "comforts" sent from one girls' school to one ship—the Ajax. The school is the Girls' Grammar School, Bury, whose headmistress is Miss J.P. Kitchener (a relative of Lord Kitchener). Wristlets, 137; mufflers, 118; body bands, 120; socks and stockings, 35; sea boot stockings, 16; mittens, 142; jersey, 1; books and magazines, 500. Of course all the articles, except the books, have been made by the girls. In addition to these they have sent 1673 articles to the soldiers. I wonder if this is a record for such an institution? This, however, is only a specimen of what has been done.
Somewhere with that mysterious fleet are a hundred and fifty chaplains. No Free Church chaplains are afloat. It would be difficult to carry more than one chaplain on a ship, and, of course, many of the ships of war carry no chaplain at all. Where there is no chaplain the commanding officer conducts the ship's service. Nonconformists at sea have to lose for the time the ministry of their several churches, but when in port landing parties redress this inequality. Some ships, especially those belonging to Devonport, have a strong Nonconformist element in their crews.
The naval chaplain as a rule is an entirely different type of man from his brother in the Army. He is monarch of all he surveys. He has to face no competition in his work. He partakes of the freedom of the sea. For the most part he is a right down good fellow, but, so far as I can judge, he has not the type of spirituality of which we see so much in the Army. He is all sorts of things rolled into one—sea-lawyer, letter-writer, story-teller, lecturer, schoolmaster, game-director, and a host of other things beside. He must be absolutely sincere if he is to be any good at all, for he never gets away from the busy life of the ship, and he of all men "cannot be hid." Often he is the friend and counsellor of the men, sharing their joys and sorrows. He is the go-between for officers and men, and if he be efficient—and an inefficient man could hardly remain long on board—he makes himself indispensable.
Of course he shares all the dangers of the ship, and to-day if a ship be beaten it is also sunk. Never were the dangers of the sea so great. Dangers on the sea, under the sea, over the sea, crowd around. He never knows when or how suddenly the end may come, and it behoves him to be ready, and brave. We are told that, when the three cruisers were torpedoed in the North Sea, the Rev. E.G. Uphill Robson, chaplain of the Aboukir, went down cheering the men he loved so well. The Rev. A.H.J. Pitts, the chaplain of the Good Hope, died bravely with Sir Christopher Cradock. A petty officer who knew him in another ship says, "With him compulsory church was quite unnecessary. Nobody in the ship would be absent from the service if he could possibly manage to get there."
One of the most terrible catastrophes of the war was the blowing up of the Bulwark in Sheerness Harbour. The Rev. G.H. Hewetson, the chaplain, was on board and perished with the rest. He had only been married a few months.
"Only the other week," wrote a correspondent of the Church Family Newspaper, "I met a stoker, who told me he, Mr. Hewetson, held meetings for men every evening in his cabin, and he was constantly at their elbow when spells from duty would permit, guiding them in 'the things that matter.' It was also my privilege to know him as chaplain to the Royal Naval Barracks, Portsmouth, during his stay of nearly three years, which terminated with his taking up duties on the Bulwark at the outbreak of war. He was a man of God, also a sportsman of the highest tone, being an expert fencer, a runner-up in the Army and Navy championships at Olympia two seasons ago. He was a man of some literary ability, for which the Chaplain of the Fleet made him editor of the Church Pennant, i.e. the Church magazine of the Navy. Mr. Hewetson was an earnest believer in individual methods, and invariably worked sixteen hours a day, visiting all recruits, detention quarters, sick bay, and held no fewer than five services on Sundays."
I suppose we include our chaplains when we pray for those who "go down to the sea in ships"; but surely these men who are there, not to fight, but to preach and pray, claim a special interest in our prayers.
Prayers are read every morning on every large war-ship, and this is, of course, the chaplain's duty, if one is carried in the ship. The life and work of the day depends very largely on how this is done.
On Sunday there is a sermon—just a quiet, homely talk from heart to heart, and in these days we may well believe that men are thrilled by the message as never before. Of course, during the winter storms morning prayers on deck or Sunday parades are impossible, for many a great green sea will break over the decks even of a super-Dreadnought. At these times service is held below and men attend in relays. On some of the super-Dreadnoughts there are little churches. The Queen Mary, for instance, has one.
I have asked a few representative chaplains to tell me something of the spiritual work on board their ships.
The Rev. C.W. Lydall, chaplain of the Lion, which took part in the North Sea battle, says: "I can only tell you that in this ship our religious motto has been 'business as usual.' I mean the war routine has interfered as little as possible with our services, which have been attended well. There has been a decided increase in the number of communicants, and in many small ways the men have shown a fuller consciousness of their dependence upon God."
The Rev. Arthur C. Moreton, chaplain of the Invincible, which was engaged in the battle off the Falkland Islands, writes: "The usual services are held when practicable, and on Sunday and Wednesday nights I have a prayer meeting with Bible-reading in my cabin."
The Rev. M.T. Hainsselin, chaplain of the Ajax, writes: "The war has made little or no difference to my routine of church work on this ship. The only service I have added has been a second celebration of Holy Communion in addition to the usual 7.40 A.M. one, to enable men to come who could not be present earlier; and the opportunity has been much valued. The other services of Morning and Evening Prayer are continued as usual.
"As you probably know, sailors do not as a general rule care much about the Parade Service at 10.30 A.M., but I think I may truly say that since the outbreak of the war they have come far more to realise it as an act of worship due from them, and it has become a deep reality instead of—as it was to many—a formality.
"In the men's letters which I have had to censor, I have noticed a very strong current of devout religious sentiment, hitherto unsuspected, which encouraged me to think that one's ordinary teaching is not so much wasted effort, as one is sometimes faithless enough to think it is."
How heavy the veil of secrecy hanging over the fleet really is, will be seen from the fact that only one copy of the Church Pennant, which lost its editor in the Bulwark, was issued between the outbreak of war and Easter, and that in February last. The Church Pennant is the organ of the Naval Church Society, and records the Christian work on board H.M. ships. Several reports of Christian work are given in this solitary issue, but the names of the ships are only indicated by initials.
One report states that the place ordinarily used for celebrations and evening service had to be given up to the doctors, but that Holy Communion has been celebrated in the chaplain's cabin every Sunday. On Christmas Day there were two communions and the number of communicants was thirty-four. "The men in general are pleased to read religious papers, and readily accept prayer cards."
Another report says: "On board this ship we were able, in spite of now and then roughish weather, to keep up our regular daily prayers and Sunday services. On Sundays we had stand-up church and two hymns from the hymn cards, and all the responses of Matins with one lesson and one of the Canticles sung. We had the harmonium to sing to. These services were brief, but very heartily joined in. After stand-up Matins we were able always to have our celebration in the captain's cabin—there being no other place in the ship available. The attendance was very good and showed that the old prejudice against coming so far aft is at any rate moribund. Sometimes the weather made it a little difficult both for the priest and worshippers, but we soon got used to the necessary balancing.... Everyone throughout the ship was merry and bright; we only regretted not having a chance of meeting an opposite number of the enemy."
A third report is as follows:
"First of all, nightly Evensong has been held by the chaplain ever since the war broke out. On account of the smallness of our numbers, we meet in the chaplain's cabin, and there the service is performed. Every Sunday morning, at 7 o'clock, we have a celebration of the Holy Communion; and on the second Sunday in the month this service is repeated after morning service. Our flotilla forms rather a large parish for the chaplain, and to supply its wants we have a service specially arranged whenever it is convenient. After our usual 7 A.M. service, we sometimes proceed on board another ship, and have a celebration, to which all communicants from the other vessels in our company are invited by signal.
"The place allotted to us in each instance is the captain's forecabin, which in this ship is as suitable a place as service conditions will allow. On Sunday evenings we have Evensong at 8.30, followed by hymn-singing, and occasionally we get a good attendance. But this, like other services, suffers for want of good space, which is not always easy to find on board ship....
"Conditions on board ship render any efforts with regard to church work very difficult, and this is most marked during these trying times. No doubt many more would join in our united devotions did their duty allow. But we may well be content to go ahead and do the best we can, even if it should be rather disheartening at times. And it will be acknowledged that there has been at least some effort made to continue our duty towards the Church of which we are so proud to consider ourselves loyal members. Our daily evening service closes with a prayer, in which all are remembered, and this is a means by which all may help. We feel and know that those who are on shore are doing the same, and praying for guidance and protection for us from Him Who is above all this turmoil and strife, and Who alone is able to preserve us from peril."
Here is yet one more report:
"Owing to the outbreak of the war the Temperance and Bible classes in this ship have been discontinued, but the Daily Prayer Meeting has been kept going in almost unbroken line.
"The voluntary services on Sunday evenings have been well attended, also the weekly celebration of the Holy Communion is very encouraging."
Putting the chaplains' letters and these various reports to the Church Pennant together, it is evident that the "business" of the Church has been, so far as possible, carried on "as usual," and that from a Church of England point of view it has been satisfactory.
It does not, however, satisfy us. We want to get into the men's hearts and minds and find out what they are feeling and thinking in these strenuous times. Does the thought of death affect them? Have the things of eternity become more real? Are they conscious of sin within, and of their need of a Saviour? Light-hearted and merry as ever, have they the joy of the Lord?
All around them are terrible armaments. We are told that the 15-inch guns of the new Queen Elizabeth can send a shell weighing a ton for a distance of more than twenty miles. The destruction which can be wrought by one of these shells can be imagined when we read of the havoc wrought by one such shell in one of the great forts of Antwerp. It was not, of course, from a man-of-war, but its destructive force would be the same. Says Sir Cecil Hertslet, our late Consul-General at Antwerp:
"Another of these great shells, weighing nearly a ton, fired from a distance of about ten miles, rising three miles into the air, fell upon the cupola of another of the great outer forts of Antwerp. It went through the concrete roof of the fort, passed through the great hall where the garrison of the fort was assembled; it went down to the floor and lower still, and at last exploded, and with the explosion swept away everything—forts, guns, garrison, disappearing."
Are they conscious that they have such terrible engines of destruction on board which on occasion they will use? Does the thought of it ever appal them? Do they think that all around them are mines strewing the North Sea, and that submarines are lurking here and there waiting to launch the terrible torpedo? Do these thoughts ever come to a Jack Tar, and how do they affect him?
Photo Credit, Southsea.
A VOLUNTARY SERVICE ON A BATTLESHIP.
The church is "rigged" on the leeward side of a pair of 13.5 guns. A most impressive service.[ToList]
To the real Christian death has, of course, no terror. He swings himself into his hammock at night, knowing that to him sudden death will be sudden glory. But to the ordinary man-of-war's man has there come an accession of seriousness, such as has come to the men in the sister service?
We can as yet only answer this question in part, and must wait for a full answer until the veil of secrecy is lifted.
And in order to get as full an answer as is possible we must turn to the men themselves, and as we do so, we offer for all of them the beautiful prayer which the Archbishop of Canterbury has put into our lips:
"O Thou that slumberest not nor sleepest, protect, we pray Thee, our sailors from the hidden perils of the sea, from the snares and assaults of the enemy. Steady and support those upon whom the burdens of responsibility lie heavily, and grant that in dangers often, in watchings often, in weariness often, they may serve Thee with a quiet mind, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."
We must remember that just as every regiment in our Army is to-day leavened by Christian men, so is practically every ship in our fleet. The work of our sailors' homes has been successfully done,—such Homes, for instance, as those of Miss Agnes Weston, and the Homes of the Wesleyan Church at Chatham, Portsmouth, and Devonport.
The previous work of the Sunday-schools and of the Salvation Army has also told, and the men have, many of them, become out-and-out Christians.
They have no difficulty in speaking:
What they have felt and seen
With confidence they tell.
And theirs is indeed a fascinating story. They have a way of making their presence felt. They cannot keep to themselves the love that has been shed abroad in their hearts, and so they gather their comrades round them, and have "good times" together, while God's blessing rests upon their work. Sometimes they meet in the chaplain's cabin, sometimes elsewhere, but night by night they meet, and in their own way worship God.
Let us listen to a few of their stories. They are most of them Methodists or Salvationists, so we will turn to the Rev. J.H. Bateson's reports in the Methodist Recorder or Methodist Times, and to the War Cry.
Mr. Bateson says:
"It is little that we know of our battleships in the North Sea. We know that they are there, because the havoc of war is kept away from our island home. The men, all Nelson's men, are doing their duty. A letter from one of them will be read with interest:
"'I must tell you we had a grand meeting last Sunday. We had thirty present. More would have been there only we were rolling and pitching heavily in a full gale, which lasted five days—the worst I have experienced for many a year. Can you just try to picture us trying to keep our feet and clutching at the piano (oh yes, we have one on board), occasionally. We started off with, "All hail the power of Jesu's Name," had prayer from our Blue Books, reading from Isaiah xlii. 1-7, and a talk on the same, then "Rock of Ages," prayers, "Nearer, my God, to Thee," Benediction, and Doxology. You should have heard us sing! I'm afraid some of the home praise and prayer meetings would be envious! This was our first attempt. I expect ere long we shall have to have the meeting on the upper deck, for the numbers will be too many for our enclosed reading-room. However, we intend to keep the flag flying. 'Tis little we feel able to do, but we will do our little best. It may, and should, have good results.'"
Here is the account of another service sent home by an engine-room artificer on one of H.M. battleships.
"It is Sunday evening, the time about 7.30, when upwards of seventy men may be seen sitting about the deck, under the fo'castle of one of His Majesty's cruisers. Outside all is dark, one watch of men are standing by the guns, trying to penetrate the darkness, in case of the approach of the enemy. A watch of stokers and engineers is below, humping the ship along. Another is resting, waiting for the time for their next trick to come round. What do we see in the gathering of men under the fo'castle? They have Sankey's hymn-books, kindly presented by Miss Weston. In one corner is an harmonium, assisted by a couple of violins. These supply the music. Presently a voice cries out, 'What hymn will you have, men?' and the chorus of replies makes it difficult to select one. This goes on for a while. Then all heads are bowed whilst prayer is made. Our quartette party renders a few pieces, after which —— gives the address, and right fine it is. He has some splendid topics, and, being a worthy Methodist local preacher, he is listened to with rapt attention. Another suitable hymn, and the benediction brings the service to a close. The roughness and simplicity of the service would cause some people surprise. Yet the shots get home. To hear the men sing is a treat not easily forgotten. The writer was much impressed by the singing of the hymn, 'Some one will enter the pearly gates by and by,' one side taking the question and the other the answer. Once during the week about eight gather in a cabin for Bible study and to talk of the things of God."
What a picture these letters present of Christian life upon a battleship! We could multiply them indefinitely, but must condense instead.
One young Christian sailor on a battleship tells of a Bible-class and prayer-meeting, held every Thursday, conducted by a naval lieutenant. Another tells of a Methodist class meeting on board conducted twice weekly. A third sends home the minutes of a meeting held by several of the men, at which it was resolved to hold a meeting every evening to be devoted to Bible study, except on Saturdays, when the hour would be spent in prayer. The Bible study, it was resolved, should begin with the Epistle to the Romans. We wonder if these sailor lads found any difficulty in that difficult Epistle. It was further resolved that every Sunday evening a Gospel meeting should be held, and that every Christian brother should be expected to take part. And, finally, the men's correspondent asks that Christian people at home will pray that he and his comrades may witness a good confession, and that they may tell forth "God's wonderful story of Christ's redeeming love."
A naval officer who is a Wesleyan local preacher says: "We are still going on well—class meetings in the cabin and meetings on the Sunday night. Wouldn't it be fine to have all the Service local preachers you could get for a service in the Central Hall after the war and the platform full of Methodist sailors and soldiers?"
Here is a touching little letter from a torpedo boat. It is full of a simple trust in Christ, and pulsates with sweetest fellowship in Him.
"The winter has been rather a trying one for us in this tiny little craft, but really I never knew the companionship of a present Saviour so thoroughly as I have since hostilities began. It would seem almost as if I were His only care, and that He made me a special study. The wonder of it all is the more marked when I remember how poor has been my service to Him, compared with all the great benefits with which He daily loads me. In answering my prayers, in subduing the storms just when they were at their worst, in giving me a thorough victory over my usual weakness, and in a thousand other ways He makes me to lie down in green pastures, satisfied and at rest, contrary to all the seeming laws of warfare. These things I tell you, not from any conventional compulsion, but because they really are so, and because I should be thrice unworthy of His name if I forebore to tell out what great things He has done."
I will quote one or two sentences, this time with reference to Salvation Army work. A lance-corporal on board the Centurion writes:
"The chaps on board H.M.S. Centurion expect much from us Salvationists these youthful days. There are five of us on this ship, and we are not only engaged in cheering up each other, but we are distributing as much cheer as possible. Our ship is called the 'Hallelujah Ship.'"
Another writes from the same ship: "We have had some glorious soul-saving times."
A Salvation Army sailor has been given permission by the commander to conduct meetings on the upper deck of the Majestic. He tells us that he is the only Salvationist on board that ship, but that there are fifty Christian men there, and that others are giving themselves to Christ.
We hear of stokers coming up from the stoke-hole grimed with dirt, so anxious to attend the services that they do not stop to wash, lest they should miss the precious hour; of men praying in public who have never prayed before; of heartfelt addresses delivered by men who had no idea they could speak in public for their Master.
There is no need, however, to multiply instances. We may take it for granted that, in most ships, there is a little band of out-and-out Christian men eagerly longing for spiritual fellowship, and finding it in services to which they invite their fellows, and in which they have the joy of leading many of their comrades to Christ.
When a ship comes into port for a few hours there is the opportunity for the shore chaplain. He holds services on board, distributes "comforts," leaves behind him books and magazines, cheers the Christian workers, and in his quiet way works wonders. And when the men are permitted to come on shore what a welcome they receive at the various Sailors' Homes, and hearts are gladdened and resolutions strengthened, for the return to sea. The work at sea must be trying in the extreme—the constant watchfulness, the eager waiting for the enemy who never comes, the patrolling in the midst of winter tempests, enough to try the nerves of the strongest—but all the time the certainty that the old-time message will receive fresh illustration each day—"England expects that every man will do his duty."
The wooden walls have passed away, and steel walls have taken their place, but the men are brave as of old—only better far and nobler. No longer the scum of our seaport towns, pressed into the service against their will, but men who are there because they choose and dare, and who are willing any day to die for their native land.
Christian bravery, too, is as much in evidence on sea as on land. Take this little story as an evidence of that fact. It is full of the joy of glad surrender for another.
"A sailor who had just got converted at the Sheerness Hall, when he rose from his knees at the mercy-seat, with the joy of salvation in his face, said, 'I am glad to be saved. I was on the —— (one of the cruisers torpedoed) when she sank. I and another member of the crew, a Salvationist, had been swimming about in the water for two hours or more, and were almost exhausted, when just as we were about to give up we saw a spar, made for it, and took hold. But, alas! it was not big enough to keep us both afloat. We looked at each other. For a time, one took hold while the other swam, and then we changed over.
"'We kept this up for a bit, but it was evident we were getting weaker. Neither of us spoke for a while, and then presently the Salvationist said, "Mate, death means life to me; you are not converted, you hold on to the spar and save yourself; I'll let go. Good-bye!"
"'And he let go and went down!'"
When we have Christian men like that on our men-of-war, we need not fear for our country, nor for the Kingdom of Christ. And so not only now, but when the war is over let us pray:
"O! hear us when we cry to Thee
[170] For those in peril on the sea."
I close this chapter with one more quotation. It is from the Methodist Recorder. It may be a comfort to some who lost dear ones in the Hawke, or in some of the other ships which have met a similar fate.
"On the Sunday before the Hawke met her doom, one of our chaplains conducted Divine service on the cruiser. As soon as he went on board he was taken to the cabin of one of the warrant officers—a local preacher—who is one of the few survivors of the disaster. About thirty men gathered together. A few hymns were sung from the little blue books, which have quite captured the sailors' hearts. The chaplain read the latter part of Romans viii.—that great message of inseparable love and glowing assurance. He then spoke from the words, 'All things work together for good to them that love God.' The men listened most earnestly to the message. One of them asked that the hymn—which has such sad but heroic associations,—'Nearer, my God, to Thee' might be sung. The little service closed with prayer by the warrant officer. As the chaplain shook hands with each man, one and another said, 'Thank you, sir.' Arrangements were made to have another service when the Hawke next came into port. But that will never be. To those whose hearts ache for the brave dead of the Hawke, there is no sweeter message than that which was given to the men on their last Sunday morning, 'All things work together for good to them that love God.'"