But we are anticipating. We ran down the coast, close in, and at 9.30 a.m., Friday, April the 7th, 1916, we reached the western end of the natural breakwater between which and the mainland is the passage into the lagoon. Here the Port Doctor came on board, and as he went through our bills of health we mutually discovered that we were old hospital friends, though we had never heard of each other for twenty years.
We entered the harbour, and brought up in 15 fms., abreast of the wharf of the old naval dockyard of Port Royal, and distant from it about a cable’s length. Port Royal is situated on the inner aspect of the bulbous-headed western extremity of the natural breakwater. The land surface is very limited in extent and is entirely taken up with the old fort, the old dockyard, and old naval and military quarters. All but a few poor closely packed houses is in the occupation of Government. The width of the breakwater to the eastward soon becomes small; open beach on seaward side, mangroves extending into the lagoon on the other; and between the two sand and scrub. This part is the well-known Palisadoes, the home of land-crabs and dead men, and the scene of many a duel. Port Royal is now deserted; no shipping or living workshops; everything is hushed, but the place is not neglected. Nelson might have left it but yesterday; the dockyard, with its fittings, stores, and quays, reminded one of that other quaint little marine gem, the old naval dockyard of English Harbour in the island of Antigua. When the place hummed with life, The Young Sea Officer’s Sheet Anchor, by Falconer, was the text book to work by, and its social life is vividly and accurately given us by Marryat in one of his novels.
As in the dusk, all alone, we passed down the silent corridors, and approached the old mess-room, we somehow listened for, and expected at any moment to hear, through some opening door, the reckless toast of “A bloody war, and a sickly season,” the chink of glasses, and the crash of the chorus “Yellow Jack! Yellow Jack!” And Jack, thus bidden, used to come, and link his arm in that of some fine young fellow, and together the two would saunter away “to the home of a friend of his in the Palisadoes.” Little time for packing up allowed! Many and many a man, in the prime of life and feeling quite well, has dined at mess one night in snowy uniform: the next night in a white uniform of a different cut as the guest of Jack and Death. These two kept open house in those days.
The R.E. Officer in charge was most kind and hospitable; he took us over the old fort, pointing out, amongst much else, Nelson’s former quarters and the adjoining length of parapet overlooking the harbour entrance, now known as Nelson’s Walk. Our host informed us that, fishing from the wharves, he got splendid sport.
From Port Royal to Kingston is about four miles by the boat channel. Passes through the coral banks have been blasted where requisite and the channel beaconed. A least depth of 4½ ft. is thus obtained, and a direct course. Our little motor lifeboat carried us backwards and forwards most excellently on various voyages made to attend to our business at Kingston. The way in which she bucked at speed over the short steep seas reminded one of larking over hurdles on a pony.
The work in hand was to get our clearance inwards, to get rid of our food-destroyer from Panama, and to find in his place a live ship’s cook, to report particulars of the Morant’s Cays upheaval, and finally the usual catering, and bill of health, and clearance outwards. The Chief of the Customs was good enough to interest himself in Mana’s welfare, so that all these matters were dealt with in due sequence, and with the least possible trouble to us. A coloured cook was procured from an hotel at £16 a month, with, as it proved, but little justification on the ground of ability for drawing such a rate of pay; still, his professional enormities were associated with so many humorous incidents, and as he appeared at least to mean well, we resigned ourselves to the inevitable, and prayed that we might survive his ministrations.
About noon on Sunday, April 9, 1916, we weighed and motored out from Port Royal, unplagued by pilots, and dipping our ensign to the Port Doctor and his wife, in acknowledgment of adieux waved from their garden. Clear of everything, the engines were stopped and Mana, bound to “the stormy Bermuthies,” proceeded to argue the point with a head wind as to whether she should, or should not, go to windward. By steady hammering she gradually got under the western end of the Island of San Domingo, and then through the celebrated Windward Passage. We had now to threadle our way betwixt the numerous islets that constitute the Bahama group, and it was quite delightful and interesting; brilliant sunshine, cool moderate breezes, land every few hours, but reliable charts. This was yachting; we had met a good deal of what bore little semblance to it, so we appreciated our present luck all the more.
The morning of the 19th of April 1916 saw us beating up under the lee of Acklin Island and of Crooked Island; a fresh N.E. breeze swept in puffs across the long, narrow, flat land. An open native boat, with jib-headed mainsail as usual, was seen heading across our course when we were close in, so we gave her a wave, and, as we came into the wind, she rounded-to under our stern, dousing her sail, unshipping her mast and shooting up alongside our quarter. We dropped into her; a couple of empty sacks were pitched in, and she was clear of the ship before she had lost her way. The mast is stepped, the sail hoisted, and she is off again with her gunnel steadily kept awash. We now for the first time spoke. The two coloured men, her crew, were most obliging; they would make for the most convenient landing and then they would accompany us catering.
Everything went off excellently; we made a tour to different cottages and gardens, collecting whatever was available, particularly grape-fruit, oranges, and tamarinds. We also got exceptionally fine specimens of the shell of the King conch and of the Queen conch. Hundreds of the King conch were piled up at one spot on the shore ready to be burnt into lime.
The natives appeared to be pure-blooded negroes of west-coast type, and in some respects their culture remains unchanged. For instance, the pestle and mortar and winnowing tray for treating maize were exactly similar in pattern to those we had seen used by the Akikuyu of Eastern Central Africa.