Here we had to anchor by the bows and moor our stern to a buoy, but by the time we had lowered the cutter, which was to take the wire hawser to the buoy in question, our stern had swung round and was nearly half a mile away from it, and the crew could not pull against the long length of sagging wire behind them.
The picket boat was lowered as quickly as possible and took the cutter in tow, but by this time our stern had nearly drifted aground. Rapid orders were passed from the bridge to the quarter-deck, and at last we saw one of the cutter’s crew leap on to the buoy and shackle the hawser to the ring. Then the after capstan began to heave round, and slowly the wire rose out of the water and tautened. Very gradually the stern began to swing back; but it was a long, slow job, as much care was needed to prevent the hawser from parting. By 9 o’clock, however, everything was secured, the ship lay peacefully on the still waters of the harbour, and we all went down to dinner.
We were up early next morning for our first good look at Aden. What an arid place! Great mountains tower above the town to a height of several thousand feet. Not a leaf, not a tree to be seen—no crap of vegetation, no glimpse of green save only a small patch of some kind of grass, just opposite the landing stage. Truly the place is suitably immortalised in the name of that famous pipe-tune, “The Barren Rocks of Aden!”
In the afternoon we went ashore to have a look at the town. The streets are very dusty and camels provide practically the only means of transport. The houses are mostly built of stone quarried out of the mountains behind, and in the native quarter the architecture is somewhat after the pagoda style. We returned to the ship to find natives already busy coaling her, and that night, as the wind was blowing the right way to carry the coal-dust over the bow, we thought we might safely sleep on the quarter-deck.
Coaling went on all night and the wind must have shifted, for, when I woke in the morning, the first thing I saw was my next-door neighbour with a face like a sweep’s! He looked most awfully funny, and I started roaring with laughter at him before suddenly realising that I was myself in a similar plight! So, indeed, were we all. You never saw such a disreputable, dirty-looking lot of ruffians in your life! Hair, hands, faces and clothes simply smothered in coal-dust; and amid much mutual chaff and laughter we went below to wash.
That afternoon we weighed anchor and sailed for Bombay, arrived there about a week later, and dropped anchor in the early morning while it was still dark; and coaling by native labour began again at once.
Daylight revealed a huge convoy of over sixty ships assembled in the harbour and shepherded by one of our battle-ships.
In the afternoon native merchants came aboard bringing deck-chairs, mosquito-nets and other less useful things for sale. By the advice of the surgeons we all supplied ourselves with mosquito-nets, and many of us also bought deck-chairs and mats.
That evening the whole of the convoy mentioned above got under way, and we, together with H.M.S. “——,” formed their escort. After a voyage of little more than a week we sighted H.M.S. “——,” who took our place, while we, separating from the main body, took half the convoy down towards Tanga. One of the troopships was very slow and could only do about seven-and-a-half knots, which delayed the convoy a lot.