So they dotted it with colliers, to provide the tars with work,
With provision boats and oilers, that they dared not dodge or shirk.
Then they sprinkled it with raindrops, with sleet and hail and snow,
And when they had it finished, sure, they called it Scapa Flow.
Now the Navy's been at Scapa ever since we've been at war,
And whenever it is over, they won't want to see it more.
But for years and years to come, whenever sailors congregate
You may bet your life you may hear them sing that Scapa hymn of hate.
Curiously enough, the weather forecast given in the Orcadian immediately below read: "Showers or drizzling rain; local mist."
Certainly even the most enthusiastic Orcadian has to admit that the islands have few natural features to commend them, and even less of the artificial amenities of civilisation: country practically bare of trees and vegetation, days in winter when the sun hardly seems to rise at all, and a climate that seems to hold the record for rainfall, storms, and unreliability.
St. John's Head, Hoy.
(The Highest Cliff in Great Britain.)
Yet, in spite of all the unkindness of Nature, to many there hangs a cloud of romance over these far-away northern islands. To those who have the observing eye, they are rich in the remains of a prehistoric past, with a history extending far back into the centuries. They possess a coast of unsurpassed grandeur of form and beauty of colouring, and as they are approached from the south, or seen from one of the hills of Hoy on a fair day, appear like some "fairy archipelago set in a summer sea," whilst a distant mirage often heightens the effect of unreality. In few places does one see such wonderful sunsets and cloud effects as in Orkney, followed often a little later by the "searchlight" rays of the Aurora Borealis. But mainly will those who spent long months and years in Orkney look back, not without regrets, on the spirit of comradeship which made exile endurable, and which, in face of a common danger, united even the most varied personalities to work in harmony for a common cause. Many friendships were made which will long survive the war; many a "cheery night" in the wardroom will recall pleasant memories of those who are now scattered over the Seven Seas; and few of the many thousands who returned to civil life after serving in the Navy during the war but will have some regrets for the days when they took the rough and the smooth together (it was mostly rough) in the northern mists of Scapa Flow. Not a few married into Orcadian families, and the writer recalls his embarrassment on one occasion when in Stonehouse Naval Hospital recovering from an operation, in discussing somewhat freely various Kirkwall acquaintances with a naval officer invalided from the Northern Base, he happened to mention a certain lady's name as one of the fairest of the Orcadian maidens, whom he understood had married a naval officer. "Yes," was the reply, "she is my wife."
Until quite recently Scapa Flow and the Orkneys were practically unknown to the majority of Englishmen, and even to-day very few could point out the exact location of Scapa Flow on the map. In a well-known London newspaper of 23rd June, 1919 (after the scuttling of the German Fleet), Scapa Flow was marked on a map as north of Kirkwall, whereas it will be seen from the map reproduced in this volume that it is actually south of that town.
It is recalled also that on one occasion a travelling claim of a certain officer at the Base was returned from the Admiralty with a query as to the car hire claimed, and the inquiry was made as to why more use had not been made of the railway facilities!