From Dartmouth to the Dardanelles: A Midshipman's LogForester, Wolston B. C. W. (Wolston Beaumont Charles Weld)
History
From Dartmouth to the Dardanelles: A Midshipman's Log
Forester, Wolston B. C. W. (Wolston Beaumont Charles Weld)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, English
The dreaded Bay of Biscay belied its sinister reputation, for we had a
very calm passage, and two days later sighted Cape St. Vincent. Here
we saw several whales frolicking about and blowing quite close to the
ship. We passed so near to the Cape that we could distinguish the
figures of the lighthouse keepers on the roof of their house.
In the afternoon we sighted the smoke of several steamers right ahead
of us, and prepared forthwith to go to action stations in case they
should prove to be hostile war-ships. However, on closer inspection,
they turned out to be a convoy of our own troops from India, bound for
Southampton.
The following noon we entered the Straits, and soon afterwards turned
into the Bay of Gibraltar. Warping through the narrow entrance by means
of wire hawsers, we arrived in the outer basin, where we were secured
head and stern alongside one of the coaling wharves.
The sun was sinking, and the town was already grey in the shadow, but
the summit of the famous Rock was flooded with rosy light.
On the afternoon of the next day the captain of marines kindly
volunteered to take us to a good shop he knew of where we could buy
some white-duck suits, which we were likely to need in the near future.
Arrived at the shop in question, the proprietor thereof informed
us, with much shrugging of shoulders, waving of hands, and similar
gesticulations expressive of regret, that he had no ducks in stock, but
that at another shop a little farther on we might be able to obtain
them. The owner of the place indicated could only produce some very
badly cut civilian duck suits, and asked exorbitant prices for the
same. With these we had to make shift, and after much bargaining each
of us managed to procure two pairs of trousers and three coats for the
sum of £4.
We then proceeded to the barracks, where after some delay we managed to
secure fairly cheap sun helmets.
It being now only just 3 o’clock we decided to ring up the ship from
the dockyard gate, and ask for leave for the rest of the afternoon.
After trying for half-an-hour to get on, and then to drive the nature
of our request into the thick head of the signalman at the other end
of the ’phone, we thought it would be best to return to the ship to
obtain the required permission. On the way, however, we were lucky
enough to meet our Captain, who asked if we had managed to get our
white suits, and on our replying in the affirmative he inquired what we
intended doing with ourselves for the rest of the afternoon. We told
him that we were on our way back to the ship to ask the Commander for
leave, whereupon he at once told us we might have leave until 7, and
having advised us to try a bathe in Rosia Bay, he passed on.
Joyfully returning to the town, we hired three of the funny little
cabriolets, which are practically the only public vehicles to be had,
and drove off to the bathing-place.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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