From Dartmouth to the Dardanelles: A Midshipman's Log — John Shaqi
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
Rosia Bay is a small inlet with very deep water, and is surrounded by
walls to keep out sharks. It is reached by a long spiral staircase
which winds round an old tower and through an ancient stone archway.
A broad stone promenade runs round the bay, and at the extreme
end of this, on the left-hand side, are situated the gentlemen’s
dressing-rooms. Here an old Spaniard, locally known as “José,” hires
out towels and bathing-dresses. Several wooden rafts are moored in
the bay for the convenience of bathers, and there are also two or
three spring-boards as well as a water-chute. The water is cold, even
in September; but the sun was so hot that we were able to lie on the
stone and bask in its rays until we got warm again and were ready for
another plunge. After an hour’s swimming we split up into parties of
twos and threes and returned to the town for tea. Fruit hawkers dogged
our steps, and but little persuasion was required to induce us to buy
the delicious grapes, pears, and peaches they pressed upon our notice.
After tea we walked through the town and bought curios at the quaint
little native stalls and shops.
That night forty boys from the Naval Barracks joined the ship, and,
there being nowhere else for them to sleep, they were told to sling
their hammocks in the gun-room flat, while we, its rightful occupants,
were ordered to go up above to the ward-room flat and the Captain’s
lobby. At first we were mightily indignant at thus being turned out
of our sleeping quarters, but later on, when we got into the Tropics,
we saw that we had the advantage, for it was ever so much cooler up
there, and we were correspondingly thankful. After dinner we went
over the brow on to the wharf, and thence on to the sea-wall, which
was hidden from the ship by a high brick parapet, which ran along
behind the coaling sheds, and here we settled down to smoke and fish.
Presently two sentries came along. On seeing us they stopped and
palavered together for some minutes. Then one of them advanced towards
us and shouted out, “Halt! Who goes there?” Considering that we were
all quietly sitting down, this seemed remarkably silly; but I suppose
he was a raw recruit, and just brought out the regular challenge which
he had learned by heart, and never thought of varying it to suit the
occasion! However, we informed him that we were naval officers and not
German spies, and he retired seemingly much relieved in his mind.
Leave was given again on the following afternoon, and after another
bathe in Rosia Bay we had a look at the surrounding country, went a
little way up the Rock, returned to the town for tea, and so on board
again at 7.
Early next morning we bathed from the ship’s side, and, after
breakfast, coaled; and that afternoon we warped out.
After rounding Europa Point our course was set parallel to the African
coast; and then we steamed away, our wake crimsoned by the rays of the
setting sun.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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