Little groups of men gathered on the wharf to wish each other 'good-bye,' as it was not likely they would ever meet again. I often think of Collins, who belonged to the same section of the starboard watch as I. He was a very witty fellow. He was asked one day where his messmate Jack Frost was? In reply he answered, "He is on the fore-yard shooting sparrows for the sick." This was amusing, considering at the time we were in a heavy gale far out at sea. On another occasion a civilian at Halifax asked him, "What do you sailors get to eat at sea?" "We live on wind and chew daylight," was his answer.
When outside the dockyard gates I made off to a restaurant for refreshment, and then caught the train for Devonport, reaching it at 8 p.m. My father and a friend were on the platform to meet me. We took a cab to the quay, from which a waterman rowed us across the harbour. Then a journey of another three miles in a carriage, and I was at home, sweet home. My mother and sisters, who had been on the tiptoe of expectation for the last hour, now bounded out of the room as the front door was opened, and I cannot describe what transpired in the lobby for the next few minutes. The tears of joy being wiped away, we all sat down to supper, my companion—he who tasted the leather strap in our school days—being invited to swell the number, and to complete the welcome home. Supper ended, I was made the recipient of various gifts from my parents and sisters. Amongst other things which my mother gave me was a jersey which she had knitted— every stitch of it. It happened one day that my sister took the work in hand and did a little in the making of it, but when my mother discovered this transgression, she lovingly unravelled the stitches, for she said "she desired to make it all herself." Such is a mother's love! Every winter since I have worn the jersey, and even now am wearing it on this cold December day as I pen these lines.
Six weeks' leave were granted me for my absence of three years, which is the naval scale—that is a fortnight for each year, and I carried in my pocket the liberty ticket. Let me tell you what is written on it: The bearer's name, his height; the complexion of his hair, the colour of his eyes, his visible marks (if any) and the nature thereof, also a statement to the effect that he is free from arrest up to a given date which is specified—if not on board his ship at the authorised hour on that date he is regarded as a leave-breaker and punished accordingly.
The six happy weeks passed away all too quickly, and I returned to the Royal Naval Barracks, or, as is understood in naval circles H.M.S. 'Vivid' From here, I was drafted to the gunnery college, H.M.S. 'Cambridge.' It was on this ship that I first saw our present King, he having come on board to inspect the guns' crews at drill, accompanied by his brother, the Duke of Edinburgh, who at the time was Commander-in-Chief of Devonport. After passing through a course of gunnery, which lasted eighteen months, I was sent back to the 'Vivid.' Being entirely out of touch with a seaman's life, I requested to "see the captain" with a view of changing my rating to that of a ship's writer. He granted my appeal conditionally, which meant, that if I were in harbour when the next examination took place, I should be allowed to sit, but if away on a foreign station, of course it would be impossible. To qualify myself in order to succeed in passing this examination I received private tuition when ashore, for which I paid very dearly. Meantime an order was received by the officials to send a draft of bluejackets to Portsmouth to bring to Devonport H.M.S. 'Rupert.' We went to Portsmouth by train. Whilst engaged in taking ammunition on board, a box of heavy cartridge fell on my right foot, and took off the tip of a toe.
I was barefooted, as it was a wet day. Being carried to the sick berth, my foot was treated and bound, and I was ordered to my hammock. On arrival at Devonport, the sick-berth steward took me to the hospital in the naval barracks, where I lay in bed six weeks. You will perceive that my right foot has been unfortunate. It was the right foot which was jammed in the crevice of the rocks the right foot upon which the Portuguese man-of-war was flung, and now again the right foot which received the fall from the ammunition box.
Time wore away, and I was in a state of expectation as to what date the examination would take place. To my bitter disappointment I was told there was to be none that year. Then I began to fear lest before the next I should be sent away to sea, and thus lose my opportunity to enter. Again I was drafted to the 'Cambridge,' as one of her ship's company, and I still resumed my scholastic tuition ashore. A thrill of dread used to seize me when observing the ship's corporal walking along the deck bearing a slate, as it was an indication that someone was to be called upon to prepare for sea. Is it I? was the thought which filled my mind. However, the year had nearly passed away, and I was deeply anxious over the forthcoming examination. "Surely there will be one this year, as there was none last." Such was my reasoning.
One day at the conclusion of my lesson, my tutor said he had very, unpleasant news to break to me. It was this:—That an examination would be held for civilians only, and that an order had been received stating that no seaman should be allowed to change his rating. Oh, I thought, was ever any disappointment so vexatious as mine? I left his house with a wounded spirit, and, having crossed the harbour, walked toward home, a journey of three miles, weeping bitterly and praying nearly all the way. The very heavens above seemed to me as brass, and my horizon appeared dark as the blackness of night; not a streak of light could I find. For two years I had been studying and working hard to qualify for this examination, and had spent most of my earnings in tuition, and now the issue was that in spite of my utter dislike to a naval life as a sailor, I must still pursue it.
The memory of that awful journey comes to mi mind very forcibly at times, and when I hear or know of any sore disappointment occurring in one's life, I fervently pray to God that such disappointment may be immersed in the waters of kindly help and sympathy. May the Christ of Gethsemane comfort all wounded hearts, all crushed spirits, and make sorrow the seed of a new hope, even as He did in my life.
On reaching home that evening my parents observed that I had been weeping, and on asking the cause, the pent-up grief again burst forth. Gradually I became calm, and conveyed to them the news which I had received from my tutor, the naval schoolmaster. They both agreed there and then, that by God's help I should be released from my unbearable life, and that steps should be taken immediately to that end.
Shortly after I came home from sea I attended the Congregational Church at Cawsand, and here, under the influence of my pastor's preaching, made a decision for Christ. He soon put me in harness in church work, and for more than two years I studied theology under him, he kindly coming to my home every Monday evening to help me in that direction. Occasionally he set me an examination paper, and assisted me educationally in every way. This course of theological study began while I was yet in the navy, and often when boat-keeper at the lower boom of the 'Cambridge' have I spent hours in study. To test my preaching abilities, the Rev. Stephen Stroud, for such was my pastor's name, would take me into his church, where in a pew he would sit as a listening critic, while I preached from the pulpit.