I must say that I was not at all pleased with our position on the mudbank, where, in spite of all efforts to move us, we still remained stuck. In the first place, I feared that we would be unable to get away with the rest of the transports on the morning of the 25th, the date fixed for the great attack, and even if by chance another vessel could be found for us, it would mean transhipping all the men, horses, mules, baggage, forage and equipment, which would be an immense labour in an open harbour like Mudros, where it is often blowing half a gale. It is no wonder that, as each attempt at hauling off the Hymettus failed, I grew more and more anxious as to our ultimate chance of getting away in time to see the start of the great fight in Gallipoli.
At last, on the 24th, the naval officers engaged on the work gave up all further attempts to haul us off, and reported the task as hopeless—at any rate until everything was removed from the ship. In the course of an hour I received a signal from the Deputy Quartermaster-General to tranship all my corps, stores, etc., from the Hymettus to the Dundrennon, a transport lying half a mile or more away. On receipt of this message I signalled back and asked for tugs and lighters to enable us to effect the transfer, but, although my signallers endeavoured for hours to attract the attention of those on the staff ship, I entirely failed to get any reply. I finally tried to extort a response of some sort by sending an ire-raising message to the effect that on investigation, I found that many of the men and mules could not swim! But my sarcasm was wasted, for the Arcadian remained dumb.
This failure in the signalling arrangements was very marked all through the two or three days we spent at Lemnos. It was practically impossible to get any message through, and one felt completely cut off from all communication with the staff ship. There were no arrangements for getting about in the harbour. The ship's small boats would have been swamped in the heavy sea, and it was practically impossible to secure a launch.
This failure, together with the wretched signalling arrangements, gave me serious qualms, and I could not help wondering if the muddle ceased here, or did it extend to other and more grave matters which would imperil the success of the expedition?
All day long I was anxiously on the look-out for a tug and lighters to enable me to tranship to the Dundrennon, and at last, at about 6 P.M., I saw a little trawler, towing a string of half a dozen lighters, making her way up the harbour towards us. In a few minutes they were alongside and made fast to the Hymettus, but, alas! I soon discovered that, although the lighters were for us, the tug was about to sail away again. The only order the commander had received was to bring the lighters alongside and make them fast to the Hymettus, and there his task ended. This was a blow to me, for I felt that, if the little Jessie went off, I and my Corps would be left high and dry on the Lemnos mud, while the rest of the Expedition sailed off next morning on the great adventure! Luckily, the commander of the Jessie was a friend of the Captain's and came on board for a yarn. After a few moments I followed him to the Captain's cabin and, on being introduced, found that he was Mr. A. R. Murley. I soon discovered that he was a most exceptional man in every way, and a sailor to his finger tips. He had been Chief Officer on board a large liner, but had resigned his post to volunteer his services to the Admiralty for the war, and, although the position he now held as skipper of the Jessie was a very small one compared with his last charge, yet, as he sportingly said, what did it matter so long as he was usefully doing his bit?—and I believe he was as proud of the Jessie as if she had been a liner or a battleship.
I used all my eloquence on Mr. Murley, pointed out what a desperate position I was in, and said that if he did not come to my aid we would, indeed, be hopelessly stranded. The Captain of the Hymettus, who, by the way, was naturally very much upset at having struck this uncharted mudbank, ably seconded my appeal, and although Murley had been working from dawn and had intended to return to his depot to lay in stores of coal, water and oil, to enable him to start with the expedition at five o'clock in the morning, he agreed to work for me throughout the night.