During the daytime my duties were very various. We were supposed to go to the Naval Institute for two or three hours in the forenoon; but going was a rare occurrence. There was much duty to be done away from the ship in boats—provisioning, coaling, landing stores for the front, besides attending constant signals from the Flag-Ship. This, together with gun drilling and other exercises, took up a great deal of one’s time.
Occasionally I got a day’s leave. Then I went to the front, and dined with some pal in the Brigade of Guards or other regiment, shared his tent for a night, and had a peep at the trenches next day. We could see a good deal of the fighting from the ship: the sorties at night were lit up by bursting shells. By its lighted fuze I often watched the trajectory of the shell while circling through the air, beautifully timed to burst on approaching the ground.
Having to be up so early every morning, I was generally in my hammock by 9.30 P.M. (sometimes earlier), and often fell asleep while the band was playing on the main deck, hard by the officers’ smoking resort. Smoking was kept uncommonly strict in those days. The hours of the ship company’s meals were the only times allowed during the daytime; in the evenings, from after evening quarters until just before the rounds were gone, at 9.30; and no officer could smoke until he was eighteen. I became an inveterate smoker, and once was within an ace of being turned out of the Excellent, gunnery-ship at Portsmouth (while undergoing my examination), for smoking with another fellow on the extreme fore part of the main deck, a locality well known to the naval officers. The sentry smelt the fumes, and reported us. We had tried to get out of a scuttle; but it was considerably too small, and we had to surrender, feeling it was all up, and that we should have to suffer next day. However, somehow we got off with a deuce of a wigging.
On another occasion I infuriated my senior officer by smoking while on duty. I was serving in the Mediterranean under that great disciplinarian, Sir William Martin (nicknamed Pincher Martin). I was officer of the guard, and had a long nasty pull round from the Grand Harbour at Valetta to the quarantine harbour, to get the Admiral’s despatches from the P. and O. steamer. It was a blowy cold night: so I allowed all my boat’s crew to light their pipes. On arriving at Admiralty House with the Commander-in-Chief’s bag of despatches, I was kept waiting in the hall while the old gentleman was at dinner. After his meal, the Admiral descended the staircase, and, in his usual curt way, said, “You are the officer of the guard, I presume? What sort of a night is it?” I having answered his questions, he said, “You have been smoking, sir!”—“Yes, sir: I have. I have had a long pull—and a very wet one—round from the other harbour.” “This is very disgraceful,” quoth he: “I will see about this to-morrow.” However, I heard no more of it. I always thought that the restriction as to smoking was carried much too far in the Navy. When I commanded ships, I used to allow much more licence than the Queen’s Regulations authorised, and I never found cause to repent of the indulgence. Smoking was considered a great solace and help, and many a dull afternoon was got through by my officers and men over their pipes. The custom of the Service was to allow a sort of half-holiday on Thursday afternoon. The pipe went, “Make and mend clothes.” That was a curious definition of a half holiday; but on those occasions every one was allowed to smoke, and it was a dies non with the ship’s company.
At 9 P.M. the youngsters, as a rule, were supposed to leave the gun-room; the signal for this arrangement was called “Sticking a Fork in the Beam.” I cannot remember ever seeing one so placed; but that was the adopted term. After a boy had passed his four yearly exams he was considered an oldster, and assumed a position of more importance. The chief benefit attached to his promotion was an extension of limited wine and extra bill. At ten, in harbour, gun-room lights were put out. The master-at-arms (the chief of the ship’s police) came round with his lantern, and was supposed to see the gun-room cleared of its inmates. If the seniors were singing, and there was some particular hilarity going on, the master-at-arms might be requested to ask for an extra half-hour’s lights. He would then go to the officer of the watch for permission. Much depended on the conscience of the officer.
The gun-room officers always dined at noon at sea, and at two or half-past two in harbour; but by degrees these hours became later, though it depended a good deal on the view which the Captain took of the arrangements. Dinner at noon and a wretched tea at about 5 P.M. made a boy feel mortal hungry by 7 or 7.30: so the steward was generally in requisition for a pot of sardines or for a lobster. This was considered an extra; and, as you were limited to 15s. a month of extras, one had to be very careful, and to economise one’s consumption. A certain amount of gambling went on over these extras. We “read” for each article; which, being interpreted, means that, instead of tossing up as to who should be charged for the supper, you selected the number of a letter of a specified line on a page—e.g., two two right, or three three left (as the case might be): the nearest letter to A won the supper. At Malta, sometimes, I have been away all day getting biscuit from the factory and filling launch after launch with bags of biscuits: so I used to lunch off newly-made biscuit and raw carrots or parsnips that were en route on board. I relished the provender: a middy’s digestion is pretty tough. It was considered a great honour to be asked to dine when at sea with the Captain. If one’s stock of clean white shirts was exhausted, one generally pulled out all the worn shirts and selected the best to wear at his table. At half-past two in the afternoon watch any middy on duty told the officer of his watch that he was asked to dine with the Captain, and no power on earth could prevent you from leaving the deck. Occasionally the Ward Room officers asked one to dine, which was a more enjoyable invitation, as you usually sat next to your pal lieutenant or officer, who was in the habit of lending you his cabin, or generally looked after your interests. It was a great boon having a cabin to fall back on, and when fatigued to be able to rest on a comfortable bed. Otherwise there was nothing but a hard teak deck to lie on, and a sextant box, or (what we often used) a couple of nautical almanacks for a pillow.
On many of our Sundays, while blockading Sebastopol, with everything quiet on deck and below, and perhaps not a shot being fired from the land batteries, I have gone down into the gun-room and seen rows of middies, mates, and other officers stretched out all over the deck fast asleep—and in the fore-part of the ship most of the ship’s company. Sailors are adepts at sleeping in quiet moments. Small blame to them; for when at sea a constant watch and watch for weeks and months is kept, and there is little continuous rest. I always thought it hard lines that after keeping the middle watch—from midnight to 4 A.M.—you had to be out of your hammock by 6.30. Often turning in wet and cold at four, you could not get off to sleep, particularly in bad weather, because of the noise; and just as you dozed off you heard the solemn grunt of your hammock-man, “Turn out, sir: it’s five bells” (6.30 A.M.); and the longer you kept him waiting, the shorter was his breakfast hour. How one could have wished him farther—anywhere but bothering one! And then his dirty hands pulling your sheets and pillows about, so as to place them away properly in the hammock, and that it should appear on deck in its proper shape to be stowed in the hammock-netting, well scrutinised by some very strict officer of the watch or mate of the deck! Woe betide you if the hammock looked too full of bedding, or in excess of what his critical eye might notice! I have often seen an unfortunate sleepy mid roll out of his hammock, cover himself with a blanket or a rug, and give himself another hour or so of rest by lying on the top of his chest, his own little home; but not much comfort attached to it if you were over four foot six in height.
What I used to hate most—in hot weather especially—was that morning evolution of crossing yards at eight o’clock. Just washed and dressed, perhaps in a clean pair of duck trousers, up you had to go to the main or fore-top, running up tarred rigging, or (just as bad) finding the rigging full of coal-dust and smoke. One often came down positively black, hot, and uncomfortable, one’s trousers ruined; and there you were, for perhaps the rest of the day, as another wash was out of the question. In after days wiser heads—at any rate, officers with more forethought—left off making you wear your ducks on this particular occasion, and the comfort and convenience was a great boon to officers and men. But somehow, in my early days at sea, very little was studied as to convenience and comfort for officers and men.
In much later days I was serving in a line-of-battle ship belonging to the Channel Fleet. We wintered at Portland. It happened to be a very severe winter—so much so that at times our rigging and sails were frozen. Twice a week the ship’s company had to wash their clothes, which generally took from an hour to an hour and a half. Consequently, the routine was put a little out of joint. Time had to be made up somehow. The usual hour to turn out was at 5 or 5.30 A.M., to wash decks; but on washing mornings I have seen the men turned out at 7 bells in the middle watch (3.30), on a freezing morning, to scrub hammocks and wash clothes, with nothing but a wretched lanthorn and a farthing dip to see by; and this was the only light for ten or a dozen men to wash their clothes by. After this the decks had to be washed in icy cold water, and at 6.30 these wretched frozen men consoled themselves with breakfast of cocoa and ship’s biscuit—possibly with bread and butter, if the bum-boat had come alongside; but, as it generally blew a gale, Mr. Bum-boat did not appear so early. I can vouch for these remnants of barbarism: I was what was termed Mate of the Main Deck, and had to be up to see the business carried out.
During May the combined fleets sailed on an expedition to Kertch, at the entrance of the Sea of Azov. We left some ships to remain off Sebastopol; but the bulk went to Kertch, and shipped a goodly quantity of troops. The Princess Royal took on board the 90th Regiment of the line, besides detachments.