From Dartmouth to the Dardanelles: A Midshipman's Log

by Wolston B. C. W. Forester

All officers who were not on duty turned up on the quarter-deck in a state of nature, with large bundles of dirty clothes under their arms, which they promptly set to work to scrub and wash. Our quarter-deck awning was spread, and soon quite a lot of water collected in it. When I had finished washing my clothes it occurred to me that the awning would be a good place for an impromptu bath. I had just finished and surrendered my place to Wenton when the Commander came through the battery door, and was considerably annoyed at finding the awning being put to this use, and he promptly gave orders that no one else should bathe there.

The welcome downpour lasted for a little over an hour, and was greatly appreciated.

On the following day our starboard condenser developed several leaky tubes, and for that day we had to draw out of line to port and paddle along with only one engine while it was repaired. Unfortunately, no sooner was this completed than the other condenser gave out, and we had to haul out of line again on the other side, with only our starboard engine working. This left us with only two days’ boiler, and three days’ drinking-water, and we were still a good four days from Tanga, so we sent out a wireless message to H.M.S. “——,” a cruiser which we knew was in the vicinity, to come and relieve us.

As the Captain had to go over on business to the s.s. Karmala, one of the convoy, we were lowering a cutter to take him there when the forward falls parted and the boat promptly swung down perpendicularly, hurling the crew out. All but one of the men managed to grab hold of the life-lines and haul themselves into safety; but for the one in question the life-buoys were immediately let go, and the other cutter in charge of the navigator was hastily lowered. However, after all, the man had managed to grab one of the bottom lines, and clambered up the side of the ship, safe and sound; but it took us a long time to recover all our life-buoys!

Next morning the cruiser to which we had wired appeared on the horizon in answer to our summons, and steamed towards us. She lay to about half-a-mile away, and our Captain, with the captain of marines, went away in a boat to the Karmala, to confer with her captain and the captain of the cruiser. They returned about 11.30 a.m., and that evening we got under way and proceeded to Mombasa, which was two days’ voyage distant, the convoy being left in charge of the cruiser.

On the following morning Barton and I were fallen in on the quarter-deck, and the Captain rated us midshipmen, which entitled us to wear the coveted white patches, indicative of that rank, on the collars of our uniform. Up till then we had only been rated as naval cadets, though some of the seniors had received their step earlier. It also entitled us to a slight—very slight—increase in the rate of our not too munificent pay! On that day, too, we all changed round duties, the messengers becoming watch-keepers, and vice versa.

I was appointed messenger to the Gunnery Lieutenant, who sent for me next morning and told me that our ship was going to act as defence ship to the harbour while she was in Mombasa, and, since it was impossible to see anything of the open sea from the port, it had been decided to send three officers out to Ras Kilmain, the lighthouse point, and that they should camp there and set up a range-finder and dumaresque. They would be able to communicate with the ship by telephone to Kilindini, the landing-place in the harbour, where signalmen would be posted to pass on any messages. “Guns” said he was sending the assistant gunnery lieutenant on this job, as well as Browne, who had been his messenger for the first three months of the cruise, and myself. I was delighted with this information, as it promised to be an interesting job, and camp-life would in any case be a very pleasant change after the long weeks we had been on board ship. Then he told me to help him to make a large map of the island. The plan was that one of us should take the range and bearing of any enemy ship that appeared, another should plot it on the chart, which was divided into squares, while the third telephoned through to our ship, saying what square the enemy vessel was in. Each square was lettered, and one spread salvo from our ship’s guns would cover its area, so that at least one of the shells was bound to hit.

That evening we entered Mombasa. The approach is exceedingly difficult to navigate owing to two large reefs which run out on either side of the island, having only a narrow passage of deep water, forty yards wide, lying between them. Along this channel we advanced until we were within little more than a stone’s-throw of the lighthouse; then, turning sharply to port, we went along parallel with the shore of the island, keeping so close in that we could see every pebble on the beach. After continuing on this course for about four hundred yards we turned to starboard and steamed between the mainland and the island. On both sides the shore was fringed with palm trees right down to the water’s edge. Beautiful little bays opened out, revealing still, deep, blue water; and as the channel gradually twisted to starboard, the open sea was soon completely lost to view.

When we had gone about a quarter of a mile, the banks slowly receded, and we entered the harbour, which in its widest part is about half-a-mile across. Another large harbour, which is about a mile wide and two miles long, opens out further on and stretches away inland. The channel surrounding the island is not navigable all the way for big ships, but small ones can quite easily go right round it. Further on there are two more islands, called respectively Port Tudor and Port Mombasa, but H.M.’s ships rarely make use of these ports. Port Kilindini consists only of the Customs House, one or two railway offices, and a large coal-shed.