Captain Ripponden was one of those men who welcomed the outbreak of hostilities as a godsend. July found him in a hopeless position as regards seniority on the list of commanders. The prospect of compulsory retirement at the age of fifty stared him in the face. By sheer merit and perseverance he had attained his present position, but unfortunately he lacked the necessary influence "up topsides" to gain an additional advance in rank.
The absorption into the Service of a fleet of armed merchantmen proved to be his salvation from a distasteful retirement, and thus he found himself in command of H.M.S. "Strongbow."
Like many another talented naval officer Captain Ripponden had not the gift of eloquence. He was a man of few words. A speech was beyond his powers.
While the crew of H.M.S. "Strongbow" first mustered for Divisions after commissioning the captain's address was short and to the point:—
"My lads, you look a smart crew. If you are as smart as you look, I'll be quite satisfied. Now dismiss."
He was quite right in saying the ship's company were a smart body of men. In spite of the fact that they were made up of Royal Naval Reserve men, Royal Fleet Reservists, and a sprinkling of Royal Naval Volunteers, they presented an appearance that would defy criticism even from the oldest martinet in the days when a smart lower-yard man was considered as a greater asset to a ship's company than a good gun-layer.
The officers of the "Strongbow," from Captain Ramshaw (who now assumed the rank of Commander, R.N.R.) downwards, quickly voted the new skipper "a right good sort," while it did not take the crew long to form the current opinion that "the owner" was a man who, not shirking work himself, expected others to do their utmost. On board H.M.S. "Strongbow" there was no room for shirkers or grousers.
Before the vessel passed the Nab Lightship practically the whole of the Naval Volunteers—men of good position in civil life, whose previous acquaintance with King Neptune's domains was a view from the deck of the "President" lying off Temple Pier—were prostrate with sea-sickness.
Captain Ripponden received the report that ten of his crew were temporarily hors de combat with equanimity.
"Let the men lie in their hammocks," he replied considerately. "They'll be all the better for it when they recover their sea-legs."