Looking Back

by Sir Seymour John Fortescue

Before returning south to Hong Kong, Vladivostock and Tientsin were visited, and at Tientsin I spent some of my pleasantest days on the China Station. Commander the Honourable Edward Dawson,[1] then commanding H.M.S. Dwarf, was kind enough to allow me to accept the hospitality of the wardroom officers of his ship, then stationed up the river, and on board her I spent ten very agreeable days. It was then a great place for paper chasing on pony back, and many were the good gallops we had over the fine open country surrounding Tientsin. The snipe-shooting, too, was capital fun. We used to start early in the morning on our ponies, ride for some six or eight miles, and come back a few hours later with generally some fifty couple of snipe; without dogs and with no beaters, and four very inferior guns, this meant as much shooting as one could reasonably expect. To show what could be done, one of the residents there, who was really a fine shot, used constantly to get a good deal more than our united bag to his own gun, assisted only by two Chinese coolies, whom he had trained to watch exactly where the birds fell, so as to retrieve for him. Dogs, even had we possessed them, were of very little use, for they were constantly drinking the very foul water that irrigated the paddy-fields (the favourite habitation of the snipe), and generally died of some sort of internal disease.

Another interesting place visited was Manilla, where the Audacious called in the course of the following winter. The cigar merchants there, received us with the greatest hospitality, and one of the items of the round of amusements they provided for us was a cricket match. Apparently, the unwritten law of cricket in Manilla was that enormous tumblers of iced beer should be set down and kept constantly refilled, a foot or so behind the stumps. Of course, the bowlers, wicket-keeper and batsmen, being in the immediate vicinity, had all the best of it; but when the “over” was called, the out-fields, if not too lazy to cross over, had their opportunity to pay attention to the glasses if they felt inclined. As the heat was terrific and these tumblers were in constant use, the unfortunate native whose business it was to keep them filled must have been fairly exhausted by his constant journeys from the pavilion to the wicket and back, before the day was over. Dinner succeeded cricket, and after dinner an adjournment was made to the Opera. The Opera House, which was established at one end of the local bull-ring, was only covered in with canvas, and the scenery was therefore of a more than usually flimsy character. The travelling company gave the Trovatore, and I can still remember how the prison bars trembled, nearly bringing the canvas roof down, when the tenor, as Manrico, was singing his passionate farewell—“Addio, Leonora; Leonora, addio.”

Time was slipping away, and I had long since been relieved of my Staff duties, when a second opportunity came (the first I ought to have taken a year before), of going home to pass the necessary examinations. There happened to be at that time on the Station one of the most remarkable hybrids, in the shape of a ship, that the genius of the Admiralty had ever produced. She was named the Thalia, was a sort of spurious corvette, and she and her consort, the Juno,—the only two of the class that were ever built,—were known in the Service as “Fighting Troopers.” Her peculiarity was that she was half corvette and half frigate in construction,—a corvette in that she carried her guns on the upper deck, and a frigate in that she possessed a main deck, which main deck, instead of being used for the armament, could be utilised for berthing troops. In case of a sudden emergency I suppose she might possibly have embarked one wing of an ordinary Infantry battalion, with the necessary officers.

Towards the end of the summer of 1876 the Thalia was ordered home, and filled up with supernumeraries for passage to England. We were a motley collection! We had on board the officers and crews of two or three gunboats whose time had expired; a certain number of acting sub-lieutenants who, like myself, were on their way home to pass their examinations; a number of officers who had been tried for various offences and had been dismissed their ships, or the Service (amongst others, I remember there was a young officer, belonging to the garrison, who had been broken for cheating at cards); and, to top up with, there were a number of Court-martial prisoners, some of whom had to go home to serve long terms of penal servitude. The Captain, who was a very fine seaman of the old school, consoled himself with the reflection that, though he had a very scratch lot of officers and men to serve under him, if anything happened we should have been such an undeniable haul for the devil that, in all probability, we should reach England safely and without any contretemps. And so, accordingly, we started to make a sailing passage home, coal only to be used in case of absolute necessity. We were short of everything when we started. All the Chinese servants and cooks had to be discharged before the ship left the Station. We, in the gunroom, had no servants except the sort we could improvise out of the very mixed material that was on board, and no money to buy stores. There was nothing for it but to live on ship’s provisions, and so great was the crowd on board that water was also very short, and we were on an allowance of one small basin full for all purposes—cooking, drinking and washing—not a very liberal allowance in the tropics. However, nothing matters when one is homeward bound, not even a passage in a sort of convict-ship, for more or less a convict ship she was, as the penal servitude prisoners counted their time on board as part of their sentence; it was also carried out, so far as hard labour was concerned, by exercising them at shot drill on the quarter-deck.

We were a cheery lot in the gunroom, and we arranged to trade with the saloon messman, who having a small allowance from the Admiralty for messing the supernumeraries, managed somehow to produce a few necessaries, wet and dry. As I had charge of a watch I rather enjoyed my time until we got to the Red Sea, where we were compelled to steam from Aden to Suez without a break. Beyond coming in for a short but very violent gale on our way from Port Said, nothing else of interest happened, and we duly arrived at Plymouth, having taken nearly four months to get home;—not a very speedy journey, but anyhow it was better than the Audacious’ performance on the way out.

After a little leave, the next thing to do was to get through the necessary examinations. Gunnery came first, so a whole batch of acting sub-lieutenants took up their abode at the old Naval College at Portsmouth, to drill on board the Excellent, the gunnery ship that used to lie up the Creek where the naval barracks now stand. I was very keen to take a first-class if I could, which meant very hard work in and out of hours, as, besides having practically to perform all the drill of every arm carried by a man-of-war, it was also necessary to learn what might be called the “patter” of the business—pages and pages of the gunnery and small-arms drill-books—the idea being that one should be able to pass on the extensive knowledge thus acquired to others. It was then that I, from a very respectful distance, first came into contact with Admiral Sir Reginald Custance, who was the senior lieutenant on the instruction staff of the Excellent at that time, and consequently head examining officer. We sub-lieutenants were in a holy terror of him, knowing that we had eventually to pass through his hands at the final examination, and, being aware that this subsequently-very-distinguished officer, had the reputation of not suffering fools gladly. One way and another our noses were kept very closely to the grindstone, and there was not much to do in the way of amusement except after dinner, when we became great patrons of the drama in the front row of the pit of the old Portsmouth Theatre. It was then that I made my first acquaintance with Offenbach. An excellent travelling company was there for some weeks, giving, in turn, La Grande Duchesse, La Perichole, and many more of those delightful comic operas so deservedly popular at the time. After all, I greatly doubt whether anything as good in their way has ever been produced since. Moreover, the Prima Donna of the company was that delightful woman and artist, known on the stage as Madame Selina Dolaro. So no wonder that we boys were in the theatre every night of our lives.

The three months’ course at Portsmouth came to an end, and I was lucky enough to get a first-class certificate. And now, all I had to contemplate was the six months’ course at Greenwich College, which would complete my education. There was a good deal of luck, as well as knowledge, required to get first-class in seamanship and gunnery, but at Greenwich it was only necessary to work hard enough to make a first-class a certainty for any one who had any aptitude for mathematics, though for others who had not that aptitude, however superior in other ways, it meant hard work to scrape through. I regret to say that I made up my mind at once to do next to nothing. I knew that I could get a second-class without any difficulty, which would mean that I could spend most of my evenings and week-ends in London, and in fact that I could amuse myself to the top of my bent. If I went in for a first-class it involved hard study, which I disliked particularly, though it would result in instantaneous promotion to the rank of lieutenant. I had been acting sub-lieutenant so long that the whole difference in seniority would amount to only about a year; a year did not seem much to worry about, and so—vive le plaisir! I need hardly say that I was not the only one who held the same views. The class I was in was composed of an extremely cheerful crew, who earned, and I believe deserved, the reputation of being the wildest and laziest class that ever went through Greenwich; but we did enjoy ourselves! There was plenty of cricket in the summer, football in the winter, excellent racquet courts for every season; and, moreover, there was the Gaiety Theatre, at the time when that delightful quartette, Nellie Farren, Kate Vaughan, Terry and Royce, were at their best and brightest. I am afraid to think of the number of times I went to see Little Don Cæsar de Bazan, but, at any rate, most of us could have passed a much better examination in the libretto of that cleverest of burlesques than we eventually did in our abhorred Euclid.

All went merrily until it came to the last fortnight before the final examination, and then it became necessary to turn night into day and try to pump in enough knowledge, through assiduous cramming, to make sure of a pass,—such things as first-classes having vanished altogether from our perspective. The examination lasted a week, and when daily comparing notes we all felt happy up to the last day, but the last paper we had to tackle (I forget the subject) fairly broke us down. Whether it really was of a more than usually high standard I know not, but anyhow we all agreed that, in our several spheres, it had been our ruin, so in this desperate condition we thought we might as well celebrate our failure by embarking on a terrific bear-fight, after what we fondly imagined would be our last dinner at Greenwich. Unfortunately the bear-fight assumed such proportions that the Authorities got very cross about it. The whole lot of us were put under arrest, and were solemnly tried by a Court of Inquiry, held at Greenwich by the Admiralty for the purpose. I, for my sins, was the senior officer, having had acting rank for so long, so I had to speak for my brother malefactors. There really was not a great deal to say; it would not have been easy to explain to the officers of the Court that we were dissatisfied with an examination paper, so no excuse was attempted. The upshot was that we were all sent to guardships for a month under arrest, instead of being given the leave we had earned after a long and trying course of instruction. Presently, the result of the examination came out. Three were plucked and put back for three months. Luckily for me, I had succeeded in taking a second-class, which was all I could expect.

Very shortly after my month’s arrest had expired, I was appointed to H.M.S. Agincourt, the flagship of Rear-Admiral Sir Edmund Commerell. Sir Edmund had been ordered to the East with his flagship and the Achilles to reinforce Admiral Sir Geoffrey Hornby (the Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Station), and also to take up the post of Second in Command. The Agincourt having left England, I took passage in a P. & O. steamer to Malta and remained there on board the guardship Hibernia waiting for an opportunity of joining my own ship. But the importance of the situation in the Middle East in 1877-78 deserves a chapter to itself.