We were directed to proceed to China through the Mediterranean, passing through the Suez Canal, although it was considered doubtful whether a ship of the size of the Audacious could get through the Canal as it then was. And, indeed, it was a job of some dimensions! On arrival at Port Said the ship was lightened of all the coal and stores that we could spare and we proceeded on our course through the Canal, provided with one tug ahead and two tugs astern, to keep her straight. Anything less straight than our course it is difficult to imagine. In spite of the tugs we bumped about merrily from one bank to the other, our bluff bows making such a wave that the whole countryside was flooded. Surely, since the Argo first took the sea, there never was such a brute to steer as H.M.S. Audacious! After two days’ bumping about in the Canal we reached Suez, and from Aden, our next port of call, we proceeded to Galle in Ceylon.
To cross the Indian Ocean from Aden to Point de Galle, a distance of only 3000 miles, took us about thirty days. The most economical speed of our species of Noah’s Ark turned out to be well under five knots an hour, and though we had filled up one of the large flats below the battery with coal, and carried a deck cargo into the bargain, it was all we could do to crawl into Galle before we came to the end of our tether. Do not let it be imagined that all the ships built about that period were the same hopeless failures. Far from it. Many of our early battleships and cruisers were fine specimens of naval architecture and steamed quite well. Some of the cruisers could sail as well as steam extremely well. The “Audacious” class, as before explained, was simply the outcome of the “short, handy ship” theory carried out to the verge of lunacy.
From Galle we wended our way in the same leisurely fashion to Singapore, and arrived there about Christmas time. Singapore was practically the southern limit of the China Station, and there our Admiral and Commander-in-Chief saw the first of his command. The China Station was then practically divided into three portions: the southern based upon Singapore; North China, based upon Shanghai; whilst the ships stationed in Japan lay for the most part at Yokohama. Hong Kong was the main headquarters of the Station, and the Commodore flew his broad pennant from the masthead of an old line-of-battleship, the Victor Emanuel, which, doing duty as guardship and receiving-ship, was in the same category as the previously described Duke of Wellington at Portsmouth. The Commodore was also superintendent of the Dockyard. Each of the three districts,—if one may apply such a term as district to the sea,—was looked after by the senior officer in the shape of a captain commanding a corvette, having under him a string of gun-vessels and gunboats. It was a great station for small craft. These were necessary because they could go a considerable distance up the great rivers of China, for some of them would spend the best part of three years up the same river, only varied by an occasional visit to Hong Kong for a refit. The flagship herself had a sort of roving commission, and when things were quiet her presence on different parts of the Station became a question of climate, which usually meant Japan for the summer and South China for the winter. As may readily be imagined, to serve in a flagship on the China Station was one of the pleasantest jobs that came a sailor’s way, and I, for one, passed two very happy years there.
It was at Singapore that I met, for the first time, a man of whom I was destined to see a great deal many years afterwards,—Sir Frank Swettenham,—then at the commencement of his long and successful career in the Straits Settlements and Malay States, a career which only came to an end with the termination of his Governorship in 1904. I forget exactly what his post was during the winter of 1874-75, but I have the happiest recollection of dining at a bungalow which he shared with a distant cousin of mine, one of the Herveys, who was then a Civil Servant at Singapore. Fancy how great a delight it was to a midshipman to get out of the gunroom,—which in hot weather was rather like a heated sardine tin,—and instead of eating the usual horrible food which was our daily fare, to dine in the best sense of that important word. I may, parenthetically, remark that I have always taken the greatest interest in food; that is to say, whenever I have had the opportunity, for when attached to an Army in the Field, or, worse still, living in a naval mess, it is useless to bother about anything from a culinary point of view, beyond the elemental fact of eating to keep oneself alive. There are many things that are good to eat in this world, and, in their turn, I have appreciated the cuisine bourgeoise of Provence and Gascony, the numerous pasta dishes of Italy, to say nothing of the supreme efforts of quite a large quantity of the great chefs of Paris, but I still think the one thing very difficult to beat in the way of a delicacy is the genuine Malay vegetable curry eaten in its own home, with which every dinner, and indeed every meal, in that part of the world, is invariably topped-up. Moreover, the setting was so pleasant:—The verandah of a bungalow, with a tropical moon so luminous that candles were hardly needed, with the murmur of the jungle in one’s ears, and, in place of the eternal “shop” which becomes one’s portion in the gunroom, to enjoy the conversation of two extremely agreeable men, one of whom was certainly a remarkably able one into the bargain. The cynical mind may suggest that as likely as not the agreeable men in question were talking their own “shop” most of the time. Perhaps it may have been so; at any rate it was a new “shop” to me.
Our next move was to Hong Kong; for the Audacious, quite a long sea-trip, with the accompanying difficulties which I have already described. These were partially overcome by calling at Saigon, the Headquarters of the French Navy in those waters. The Commander-in-Chief was there able to kill two birds with one stone—to exchange courtesies with the French Commander-in-Chief and take in a fresh supply of coal for the remainder of his journey. It is quite unnecessary to describe Saigon. Claude Farrère, who, though a sailor, is also a great writer, has done it already in the most masterly fashion in Les Civilisés. Even a few days of the climate of Saigon, which resembles nothing in the world so much as the interior of an orchid house, are trying enough. Small wonder that the unfortunate Government officials and naval officers who are out there for years take to opium smoking and various other weird amusements—in fact, anything—to while the time away.
We finally arrived at our destination,—Hong Kong,—after about a five months’ journey from England, and there we spent some considerable time refitting and preparing for our summer cruise. During our stay there I had finished serving my time as a midshipman, having completed four and a half years, and passed my examination, so far as seamanship was concerned, for sub-lieutenant. I was fortunate enough to be given a first-class, and on the strength of it could have claimed a passage home to pass the other two examinations in gunnery and navigation which were necessary to confirm me in my rank. Until these were passed one could only hold the rank of Acting Sub-Lieutenant. Of course I ought to have done so, for, had I taken the other two first-classes,—and, barring accidents, there was not much difficulty in doing so,—I should have been made a Lieutenant at once. Unfortunately there were attractions of various kinds at Hong Kong, and I am afraid I succumbed to them all. The result was I remained out there for over another year having a very pleasant time, but steadily losing seniority. Nevertheless, the year in the Far East was really well spent even at the expense of spoiling what might possibly have been a successful career in the Navy. To see something of China,—to my mind by far the most interesting country in the world,—to see the beginning of the Europeanising of Japan, is a pleasanter thing to look back upon than the possibilities of high command in various parts of the world, finishing off, at its very best, with the command of a Home Port.
Shortly after I had attained to the exalted rank of Acting Sub-Lieutenant, a vacancy occurred owing to the sudden death of a Commander of one of the gun-vessels, and, as was always the case in those days, the acting vacancy was given to the Flag-Lieutenant. The Admiral very kindly made me his Acting Flag-Lieutenant for the time being, so that, at the age of a little over nineteen, I found myself on the Staff of a Commander-in-Chief. The result of my temporary promotion was that I was suddenly thrown into the vortex of Hong Kong Society, about which it is necessary to say something. Naturally, the head of the whole business was the Governor of Hong Kong, Sir Arthur Kennedy. The honours of Government House were done by his daughter, Miss Kennedy, in the most charming fashion, and many were the pleasant dinners I enjoyed at that hospitable table. Miss Kennedy subsequently married the late Admiral of the Fleet, Lord Clanwilliam, but that was later, and after her father had left the Colony. The next in rank to the Governor was the Naval Commander-in-Chief, and the General in Command of Troops, Captains of ships and Colonels of regiments, all came along in the usual official way. All this was obvious enough and not in the least amusing, but what delighted me was the table of precedence of those whom we youngsters always talked of as “dollar grinders,” who, with their wives, were in real life the representatives of the great firms of China Merchants. I had to make myself acquainted with these terrible rules of precedence so as not to make an unnecessary number of mistakes on the occasions when my Admiral was entertaining the rank and fashion of Hong Kong. They were rather a terrifying lot, these same wives of dollar grinders, and used to fight like cats if not put in their proper places. The whole precedence was based on the importance, or supposed importance, of the firm, and in my time Jardine & Mathieson were an easy first; consequently the wife of that firm’s representative was in the prime position of being the leading civilian lady of the Colony. But even in 1875 the importance of the China Merchant was beginning to dwindle, and small wonder! The youngsters who used to go out as tea-tasters were started on a salary of £400 a year. Admirable board was provided for them by the firm at what was called the Hong, where they not only had the best of messing provided for them gratis, but, in addition, could ask as many guests as they liked. Moreover, to make the thing complete, the firm provided them with a chair and two coolies to carry them about. (We have not yet heard of runners on the Stock Exchange being accommodated by their employers with free taxi cabs!) Being for the most part very little more than schoolboys, they naturally had a very good time. There were rumours that they had a certain amount of work to do in the morning; but even this was never confirmed. Anyhow, after a remarkably copious “tiffin” and the necessary hour’s rest, the real business of the day began, such as the training of racing ponies, cricket, rowing, and every sort of sport that was then popular. If nothing better offered, the Hong provided an excellent dinner, and then everybody adjourned to the Club for cards, billiards or bowls until the small hours. Meanwhile, the German merchants,—to say nothing of the indigenous Chinese,—were gradually ousting the Englishman. Even at the unreflective age of nineteen it struck me that, as a business proposition, the German clerk who worked all day, spoke at least four languages and kept himself on £80 a year, would be apt to further the interest of his firm and be more generally useful to it than our own young men, who lived luxuriously, amused themselves a good deal, spoke no language but their own, and probably cost the firm not far short of £1000 a year apiece.
But to return to the Society aspect:—I remember well the first dinner to which I accompanied my Admiral, given at East Point by the then representative of Jardine & Mathieson. After the complete dinner party had filed in arm in arm, strictly in accordance with the precedence of the firms, I wandered in humbly, last and alone. However, I reflected, while I was philosophically consoling myself with the pleasures of the table, which included remarkably good wine, that had I been there in my real rank as an Acting Sub-Lieutenant, I should probably have been sent to dine in the steward’s room instead.
The drawback to Hong Kong, as the Headquarters of the China Station, was that it was a terribly expensive place, and as a system of universal credit obtained, it was really difficult for young officers to resist the temptation of running into debt. A certain number certainly did come to grief, and the only wonder is that there were not more of them. The British public is beginning to realise at last how miserable a pittance is the pay of the Naval Officer of to-day. In my young days it was a great deal worse, and in China we were literally defrauded by the Admiralty into the bargain. It is a disgraceful fact that the officers and men were paid monthly in silver dollars valued by the Government at what used to be the par value of the dollar, namely 4s. 2d.; when their real value was well under 4s. Of course this did not affect the higher ranks; on the contrary, it suited them admirably. They could get their cheques cashed at the bank on shore, and instead of taking their dollars could remit not only their pay but, up to a decent point, a good deal besides at 4s. 2d. and make a very fine profit; but as far as the unfortunate junior officers (who had no banking accounts) and the ship’s company were concerned, it was nothing else than highway robbery. But from time immemorial, the officers and men serving afloat and doing the real work of the Navy have been robbed by the civilian side of the Admiralty. Readers of history will remember the great Dundonald’s crusade, when he was Captain Lord Cochrane, against the Malta Prize Court, and his subsequent exposure of similar scandals in the House of Commons. All the scandals then exposed must necessarily have been within the knowledge of the Admiralty of those days, who either connived at it or shared in the plunder. Two of the cases quoted by Dundonald in the House of Commons are worth repeating:—