Merchantmen-at-arms : the British merchants' service in the warBone, David W. (David William)
History
Merchantmen-at-arms : the British merchants' service in the war
Bone, David W. (David William)
Merchant marine -- Great Britain; World War, 1914-1918 -- Naval operations
Steaming in formation at night without lights adds to our 'grey heires.'
The menace of collision is ever present. Frequently, in the darkness, we
have no guide-ship in plain sight to regulate our progress. The
adjustments of speed, that in the daytime kept us moderately well in
station, cannot be made. It is best to turn steadily to the average
revolutions of a former period, and keep a good look-out for the broken
water of a sister ship. On occasion there is the exciting medley of
encountering a convoy bound the opposite way. In the confusion of wide
dispersal and independent alterations of course to avert collision,
there is latitude for the most extraordinary situations. An incident in
the Mediterranean deserves imperishable record: "We left Malta, going
east, and that night it was inky dark and we ran clean through a
west-bound convoy. How there wasn't an accident, God only knows. We had
to go full astern to clear one ship. She afterwards sidled up alongside
of us and steamed east for an hour and a half. Then she hailed us
through a megaphone: 'Steamer ahoy! Hallo! Where are you bound to?'
'Salonika,' we said. 'God Almighty,' he says. 'I'm bound to Gibraltar.
Where the hell's _my_ convoy?'"
[Illustration: THE THAMES ESTUARY IN WAR-TIME]
XVII
OUTWARD BOUND
CUSTOMS clerks--may their name be blessed--are worth much more than
their mere weight in gold. We do not mean the civil servants at the
Custom House, who listen somewhat boredly to our solemn Oath and
Compearance. Doubtless they, too, are of value, but our concern is with
the owner's shipping clerk who attends our hesitating footsteps in the
walk of ships' business when we come on shore. He greets us on arrival
from overseas, bearing our precious letters and the news of the firm: he
has the devious paths of our entry-day's course mapped out, down to the
train we may catch for home. As an oracle of the port, there is nothing
he does not know: the trains, the week's bill at the 'Olympeambra,' the
quickest and cheapest way to send packages to Backanford, suitable
lodging in an outport, the standing of the ship laundries, the merits of
the hotels--he has information about them all. During our stay in port
he attends to our legal business. He speeds us off to the sea again,
with all our many folios in order.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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