It was, of course, an unheard-of thing for a woman to visit the Fleet in war-time, but, once the barriers passed, the sailors were so glad to see her! Withdrawn from the common life in their iron, sleepless world, they welcomed this break in their routine as much as she did the chance it gave her of a wholly unique experience. She told the tale of her adventures both in a letter to Mr. Ward and in notes written down at the time:
“February 16, 1916.
“Such a journey! Heavy snow-storm in the night, and we were held up for three hours on the highest part of the line between Kingussie and Aviemore. But at Invergordon a group of naval officers appeared. A great swell [Sir Thomas Jerram] detached himself and came up to me. ‘Mrs. Ward? Sir John has asked me to look after you.’ We twinkled at each other, both seeing the comedy of the situation. ‘Now then, what can I do for you? Will you be at Invergordon pier to-morrow at eleven? and come and lunch with me on the Flagship? Then afterwards you shall see the destroyers come in and anything else we can show you. Will that suit you?’ So he disappears and I journey on to Kildary, five miles, with a jolly young sailor just returned from catching contraband in the North Sea, and going up to Thurso in charge of the mail.”
She spent a quiet evening at Sir John Jellicoe’s house (the Admiral himself being away). Her notes continue the story:
‘Looked out into the snowy moonlight—the Frith steely grey—the hills opposite black and white—a pale sky—black shapes on the water—no lights except from a ship on the inlet (the hospital ship).
‘Next day—an open car—bitterly cold—through the snow and wind. At the pier—a young officer, Admiral Jerram’s Flag Lieutenant. ‘The Admiral wished to know if you would like him to take you round the Fleet. If so, we will pick him up at the Flagship.’ The barge—very comfortable—with a cabin—and an outer seat—sped through the water. We stopped at the Flagship and the Admiral stepped in. We sped on past the Erin—one of the Turkish cruisers impounded at the beginning of the war—the Iron Duke, the Centurion, Monarch, Thunderer—to the hospital ship China. The Admiral pointed out the three cruisers near the entrance to the harbour—under Sir Robert Arbuthnot—also the hull of the poor Natal—with buoys at either end—two men walking on her.
‘At luncheon—Vice-Admiral Sir Thomas Jerram on my left, Sir Robert Arbuthnot, commanding the cruiser squadron, on my right. Captain Field and Mrs. Field. Commander Goldie—Flag Lieutenant Boissier, and a couple of other officers and their wives.
‘In the barge I had shown the Admiral Roosevelt’s letter. Sir Robert Arbuthnot spoke to me about it at luncheon, and very kindly. They all seemed to feel that it was a tough task, not of my seeking, and showed wonderful sympathy and understanding. After lunch Captain Field was told off to show me the ship. Thrilling to see a ship in war-time, that might be in action any moment. The loading of the guns—the wireless rooms—the look down to the engine deck—the anchor held by the three great chains—the middies’ quarters—the officers’ ward-room. The brains of the ship—men trained to transmit signals from the fire-control above to all parts of the ship, directing the guns. The middies’ chests—great black and grey boxes—holding all a middy’s worldly goods. He opens one—shows the photos inside.—The senior middy, a fair-haired boy, like Humphry Sandwith—the others younger. Their pleasant room, with its pictures, magazines and books. Spaces where the wounded can be temporarily placed during action.
‘The chart of the North Sea, and the ship-stations. Lines radiating out in all directions—every dot on them a ship.
‘After going through the ship we went to look at the destroyer which the Admiral had ordered alongside. Commanded by Mr. Leveson-Gower, son of the Lord Granville who was Foreign Secretary, and nephew of ‘Freddy.’ The two torpedo tubes on the destroyer are moved to the side, so that we see how it discharges them. The guns very small—the whole ship, which carries 100 men, seems almost on the water-line—is constantly a-wash except for the cabin and the bridge. But on a dark night in the high seas, ‘we are always so glad to see them!—they are the guards of the big ships—or we are the hens, and they are the chickens.’