Group Non-commissioned Officers. 48th Highlanders[ToList]
The same evening we had a concert given by "F" Company, commanded by Captain Osborne. I was asked to attend and did so. It was a great success.
I was wakened Monday morning by some one pounding on the door telling me that land was in sight. I got up and dressed, had some tea and buns and went on deck. There was Lizard Point ahead in the mist. It was blowing a gale, but the sea was not very heavy.
We detached from the convoy about ten o'clock on the 12th, and the swifter ships started to sail on, but still no one knew what our destination would be. Last evening the signallers brought us a message from our General, whoever that might be, saying "dye white haversacks" "and carry a day's rations, on disembarkation." He did not know that dye and coffee had run out so that the men could not dye their white haversacks. Somebody suggested to flag back, "send along some dye by wireless." Our men's haversacks, however, were dyed drab when we got them, so we were all right.
A case of measles developed on board, suspected to be German,—another case of German "frightfulness." In the evening the water was calm and warm and the night very dark. I went on deck to see the wonderful phosphorescent display. The ship seemed to be floating in a sea of gold, or rather sunshine. It was wonderful.
We took a good look at Lizard's Point when we were passing about ten miles off. There was a big white castle on a cliff and nice green farms.
Before closing this chapter reference should be made to the good conduct of all the officers and men. Our men on the signalling staff had a hard time but they did their duty well. The men and officers went ashore in the pink of condition.
We got our first real glimpse of England on the 14th. Off Eddystone Light the pilot came on board. He was a very large portly man and very nervous about being dropped into the sea. I should judge he weighed at least two hundred and fifty pounds. The ladder he had to climb was made of rope with the rungs woven in, and he made them heave him a line which he fastened about his body.
When he came on board we were informed for the first time that our original destination was to have been Southampton, and that it had been changed, by a wireless message from Eddystone Lighthouse that morning, to Plymouth. The evening before, the warship "Princess Royal" came steaming down the line. She was on our left. She crossed our column about half way down—dressed her decks and spars—her crew all in white—and passed upon the right of our column so close that you could toss a biscuit on her deck. She is a magnificent fighting machine. Our men all lined the decks and every available space and cheered themselves hoarse. That ship is the fastest warship afloat. The ordinary Dreadnoughts sail twenty-one knots. The "Emden" and the "Karlsruhe," the German Corsairs, sailed twenty-six knots, but the "Princess Royal" can reel off thirty-four knots. Our ship was at the head of our column and she swung past our bow to again take her station as if we were standing still, so quickly and easily did she answer her helm. Her decks were cleared for action, her 13-½" guns run out. All her metal work in the setting sun shone like gold. She looked like a great grey yacht. This convoy had been wonderfully cared for. It seemed that all the time we were being convoyed by four great battleships and five light cruisers. The battleships were always below the horizon till we saw the "Glory" on the right. That was off Cape Breton. Truly the British Navy is wonderful, and ever up to its traditions. We were sailing up the Channel and going to land at Plymouth, the port from which sailed the great Admirals who gave Great Britain command of the sea. The day was lovely, the autumn sun shining brightly, and the shores of England shimmered a ruddy bronze brown. The trees were in full foliage, but the color scheme as seen from the sea was a much more vivid green than the Canadian landscape. In the early part of the day we could see a wireless tower and life saving stations at the Lizard. The shore was steep, a huge line of chalk cliffs.
Fourteen miles from Plymouth we passed Eddystone Lighthouse. This is one of the most noted lighthouses in the world. The first light was erected here on a submerged reef in 1697. Six years after it was washed away during a great storm. It was rebuilt in wood and the structure stood the buffeting of the Atlantic until it was burned down in 1755. The third, or as it was called the Smeaton Tower, was erected in 1757. It was built of masonry and stood until 1882, over a hundred years. Part of this wonderful old light, I was told by our Captain, is still in use in Plymouth. The present light is 135 feet high, and was built by Sir James W. Douglas at a cost of $400,000. In the summer, excursion steamers run out from Plymouth, but very few of the passengers land.