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
It was now somewhere about 3·30 a.m., and, as I did not feel
inclined to sleep any more, they gave me some hot cocoa and some
bread-and-cheese. I drank the former, but the bread-and-cheese was more
than I felt equal to just then. About 6 o’clock the Lieutenant was
transferred to another ship for medical treatment, as his back was
badly bruised by drifting wreckage; and half-an-hour later the rest of
the survivors were reembarked in _H.M.S. Lord Nelson’s_ cutter, the
same that had picked us up; and leaving the trawler she took us to the
_Lord Nelson_.
When we got on board I was at once taken down to the gun-room, where I
found four more of our “snotties” who had also been rescued. One more
was reported as having safely swum ashore; but there was no news of the
other three, and subsequently it transpired that they had been lost.
The survivors were mostly sleeping—the sleep of exhaustion. We had all
had a pretty tough fight for it, and I realised then how uncommonly
lucky we had been in escaping not only alive, but for the most part
uninjured. Cunninghame had a nasty cut on his head, but the rest of
us were only suffering from minor bruises, and of course to a certain
extent from shock.
One of the _Lord Nelson’s_ middies kindly lent me some old uniform, and
after I had dressed I made a parcel of the clothes I had been lent on
the trawler and took them to the ship’s corporal, and asked him to see
that they were returned to their owner.
I remembered, with an odd sense of unreality, that the last time I had
been in the _Lord Nelson_ was at the manœuvres the previous July!
On my way up to the deck I met three more of our lieutenants, and we
exchanged accounts of our experiences. From them I learned that our
Commander had been saved, and was also on board; but there was no news
of the Captain. Some days later I heard that his body had been picked
up, and it was thought that he had been killed by the falling of the
pinnace when the ship turned over just before she sank.
At 7·30 we put to sea and proceeded to Port Mudros. On the way,
and after divisions, the lower deck was cleared, the whole ship’s
company, together with the survivors from our ship, mustered on
the quarter-deck, and then took place a mournful ceremony, which
poignantly brought home to us the fate we had so narrowly escaped.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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