Full Speed Ahead - free ebook by Henry Beston

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Full Speed Ahead

Henry Beston

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FULL SPEED AHEAD

FULL SPEED AHEAD

Tales from the Log of a Correspondent with Our Navy BY HENRY B. BESTON GARDEN CITY NEW YORK DOUBLEDAY, PAGE &amp; COMPANY 1919 Copyright, 1919, by DOUBLEDAY, PAGE &amp; COMPANY All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian Copyright, 1918, by The Atlantic Monthly Company Copyright, 1918, by The Curtis Publishing Company Copyright, 1918, by The North American Review Pub. Co, Copyright, 1918, by The American National Red Cross Copyrig

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PREFACE

PREFACE

These tales are memories of several months spent as a special correspondent attached to the forces of the American Navy on foreign service. Many of the little stories are personal experiences, though some are "written up" from the records and others set down after interviews. In writing them, I have not sought the laurels of an official historian, but been content to chronicle the interesting incidents of the daily life as well as the achievements and heroisms of the friends who keep the highway

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I AN HEROIC JOURNEY

I AN HEROIC JOURNEY

A London day of soft and smoky skies darkened every now and then by capricious and intrusive little showers was drawing to a close in a twilight of gold and grey. Our table stood in a bay of plate glass windows over-looking the embankment close by Cleopatra's needle; we watched the little, double-decked tram cars gliding by, the opposing, interthreading streams of pedestrians, and a fleet of coal barges coming up the river solemn as a cloud. Behind us lay, splendid and somewhat theatric, the mot

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II INTO THE DARK

II INTO THE DARK

I got to the Port of the Submarines just as an uncertain and rainy afternoon had finally decided to turn into a wild and disagreeable night. Short, drenching showers of rain fell one after the other like the strokes of a lash, a wind came up out of the sea, and one could hear the thunder of surf on the headlands. The mother ship lay moored in a wild, desolate and indescribably romantic bay; she floated in a sheltered pool a very oasis of modernity, a marvellous creature of another world and anot

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III FRIEND OR FOE?

III FRIEND OR FOE?

Captain Bill of the Z3 was out on patrol. His vessel was running submerged. The air within, they had but recently dived, was new and sweet, and that raw cold which eats into submerged submarines had not begun to take the joy out of life. It was the third day out; the time, five o'clock in the afternoon. The outer world, however, did not penetrate into the submarine. Night or day, on the surface or submerged, only one time, a kind of motionless electric high noon existed within those concave wall

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IV RUNNING SUBMERGED

IV RUNNING SUBMERGED

It was breakfast time, and the officers of the submarines then in port had gathered round one end of the long dining table in the wardroom of the mother ship. Two or three who had breakfasted early had taken places on a bench along the nearer wall and were examining a disintegrating heap of English and American magazines, whilst pushed back from the table and smoking an ancient briar, the senior of the group read the wireless news which had just arrived that morning. The news was not of great im

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V THE RETURN OF THE CAPTAINS

V THE RETURN OF THE CAPTAINS

The breakfast hour was drawing to its end, and the very last straggler sat alone at the ward room table. Presently an officer of the mother ship, passing through, called to the lingering group of submarine officers. "The X4 is coming up the bay, and the X12 has been reported from signal station." The news was received with a little hum of friendly interest. "Wonder what Ned will have to say for himself this time." "Must have struck pretty good weather." "Bet you John has been looking for another

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VI OUR SAILORS

VI OUR SAILORS

In the lingo of the Navy, the enlisted men are known as "gobs." This word is not to be understood as in any sense conveying a derogatory meaning. The men use it themselves;—"the gobs on the 210." "What does a real gob want with a wrist watch?" It is an unlovely syllable, but it has character. In the days before the war, our navy was, to use an officer's phrase, more of "a big training school" than anything else. There were, of course, a certain number of young men who intended to become sailors

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VII THE BASE

VII THE BASE

The town which served as the base of the American destroyers has but one great street; it is called The Esplanade, and lies along the harbour edge and open to the sea. I saw it first in the wild darkness of a night in early March. Rain, the drenching, Irish rain, had been falling all the day, but toward evening the downpour had ceased, and a blustery south-east wind had thinned the clouds, and brought the harbour water to clashing and complaining in the dark. It was such a night as a man might p

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VIII THE DESTROYER AND HER PROBLEM

VIII THE DESTROYER AND HER PROBLEM

About a quarter of a mile apart, one after the other along the ribbon of deep water just off the shore, lie a number of Admiralty buoys about the size and shape of a small factory boiler. At these buoys, sometimes attached in little groups of two, three, and even four to the same ring bolt, lie the American destroyers. From the shore one sees the long lean hull of the nearest vessel and a clump of funnels all tilted backwards at the same angle. The air above these waspish nests, though unstained

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IX TORPEDOED

IX TORPEDOED

If you would understand the ocean we sailed in war-time, do not forget that it was essentially an ambush, that the foe was waiting for us in hiding. Nothing real or imagined brooded over the ocean to warn a vessel of the presence of danger, for the waters engulfed and forgot the tragedies of this war as they have engulfed and forgotten all disasters since the beginning of time. The great unquiet shield of the sea stretched afar to pale horizons, the sun shone as he might shine on a pretty villag

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X THE END OF A SUBMARINE

X THE END OF A SUBMARINE

Two days before, in a spot somewhat south of the area we were going out to patrol, a submarine had attacked a convoy and sunk a horse boat. I had the story of the affair months afterwards from an American sailor who had seen it all from a nearby ship. This sailor, no other than my friend Giles, had been stationed in the lookout when he heard a thundering pound, and looking to port, he saw a column of water hanging just amidships of the torpedoed vessel, a column that broke crashing over the deck

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XI "FISHING"

XI "FISHING"

A young executive officer who had discovered that I came from his part of the world, took me there for tea. I fancy that few of the destroyer folk will forget the principal hotel at the Navy's Irish base. We sat in worn plush chairs in a vast rectangular salon lit by three giant sash windows of horrible proportions. Walls newly decked with paper of a lustrous, fiery red showered down upon us their imaginary warmth. The room was cold, horribly cold, and a minuscule fire of coke burning in a tiny

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XII AMUSEMENTS

XII AMUSEMENTS

On every vessel in the Navy there is a phonograph, and on some destroyers there are two phonographs, one for the officers, and one for the men. The motion of the destroyer rarely permits the use of the machine at sea, but when the vessel lies quietly at her mooring buoy, you are likely to hear a battered old opera record sounding through the port holes of the ward room, and "When the midnight choo choo leaves for Alabam'" rising raucously out of the crew's quarters. When music fails, there are a

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XIII STORM

XIII STORM

Sooner or later, destroyer folk are sure to say something about the storm. It happened in December and raged for a full three days. Readers will have to imagine what it meant to destroyer sailors; the boat dancing, tipping and rolling crazily without a second's respite; no warm food to eat because a saucepan could not be kept on the stove or liquids in a saucepan; no rest to be had. Imagine being in the lookout's station in such a storm, wondering when the tops of the masts were going to crash d

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XIV ON NIGHT PATROL

XIV ON NIGHT PATROL

It was the end of the afternoon, there was light in the western sky and on the winding bay astern, but ahead, leaden, still, and slightly tilted up to a grey bank of eastern cloud, lay the forsaken and beleaguered sea. The destroyer, nosing slowly through the gap in the nets by the harbour mouth, entered the swept channel, increased her speed, and trembling to the growing vibration, hurried on into the dark. High, crumbling, and excessively romantic, the Irish coast behind her died away. Tragic

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XV CAMOUFLAGE

XV CAMOUFLAGE

In the annals of the Navy one may read of many a famous duel, and if the code duello were in existence to-day, I feel certain that the present would not be less fiery than the past. The subject which stirs up all the discussion is camouflage. To ask at a crowded table: "What do you think of camouflage," is to hurl a very apple of discord down among your hosts. For there will be some who will stand by camouflage to the last bright drop of blood, and strive to win you to their mind with tales that

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XVI TRAGEDY

XVI TRAGEDY

Just at the fall of night, three days before, a weak and fragmentary wireless had cried forlornly over the face of the waters for immediate help, and had then ceased abruptly like a lamp blown out by a gust of wind. The destroyers, stationed here and there in the vast loneliness of the gathering dark, had heard and waited for "the position" of the disaster, but nothing more came through the night. Presently, it had begun to rain. And now for three interminable and tedious days and nights rain ha

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XVII "CONSOLIDATION, NOT COÖPERATION"

XVII "CONSOLIDATION, NOT COÖPERATION"

Talking one day with an English member of the House of Commons, I asked him what he held to be the most important result of American intervention. "The spirit of coöperation which you have stirred up among the Allies," he answered. "Not that I mean to say that the Allies were continually quarrelling among themselves; the manner in which Britain has shared her ships with other hard pressed nations would refute any such insinuation, but not until you came on the scene was there a really scientific

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XVIII MACHINE AGAINST MACHINE

XVIII MACHINE AGAINST MACHINE

The year stood at the threshold of the spring; a promise of warmth lay in the climbing sun; on land one might have heard the first songs of the birds. At sea, the mists of winter were lifting from the waters, and the sun, for many months shrunk and silver pale, shone hard and golden bright. A fresh, clear wind was blowing from the west, driving ahead of it a multitude of low foam-streaked waves. There was not a sign of life to be seen anywhere on the vast disk of the sea, not a trail, not a smud

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XIX THE LEGEND OF KELLEY

XIX THE LEGEND OF KELLEY

Kelley, not Von Biberstein or Hans Bratwurst, is his name, Kelley spelled with an "e." The first destroyer officer whom you question will very possibly have never heard of him, the second will have heard the legend, the third will tell you of a radio officer, a friend of his, who received one of Kelley's messages. So day by day the legend grows apace. Kelley is the captain of a German submarine. The first time that I heard about him he figured as a young Irishman of good family who had attached

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XX SONS OF THE TRIDENT

XX SONS OF THE TRIDENT

Any essay on the British sailor must rise from a foundation of wholesome respect. One cannot look at the master of the world without philosophy. And British Jack is the world's master, for he holds in his hands that mastery of the seas which is the mastery of the land. He is a sailor of the mightiest of all navies, an inheritor of the world's most remarkable naval tradition, a true son of Britannia's ancient trident. What is he like, British Jack? How does he impress those companions who share t

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XXI THE FLEET

XXI THE FLEET

The fleet lay in the Firth of Forth. It was one o'clock in the afternoon, and the little suburban train which leaves and pauses at the Edinburgh Grand Fleet pier had not yet been brought to its platform. The cold sunlight of a northern spring fell upon the vast, empty station, and burnished the lines of rail beyond the entrance arch. Two porters from the adjoining hotel, wearing coats of orange-red with dull brass buttons, stood lackadaisically by a booking office closed for the dinner hour. Pre

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XXII THE AMERICAN SQUADRON

XXII THE AMERICAN SQUADRON

The morning found me a guest aboard the flagship of the American battleship squadron attached to the Grand Fleet. Going on deck, I found the sun struggling through thin, motionless mists. A layer of webby drops lay on wall and rail, on turret and gun. Presently a little cool wind, blowing from the land, fled over the calm water in mottled, scaly spots, bringing with it a piping beat of rhythmic music. Half a mile beyond the flagship, the crew of a British warship were running in a column round a

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XXIII TO SEA WITH THE FLEET

XXIII TO SEA WITH THE FLEET

On the morning of the day that the fleet went out, there was to be felt aboard that tensity which follows on a "short notice" warning. Officers rushed into the wardroom for a hasty cup of coffee and hurried back to their beloved engines; the bluejackets, too, knew that something was in the air. A visitor to the flagship will not have to study long the faces of his hosts to see that they are an exceptional lot of men. Whilst among the destroyers there is a good deal of the grey-eyed ram-you, damn

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XXIV "SKY PILOTS"

XXIV "SKY PILOTS"

We know him as chaplain, the gobs use the good old term "Sky Pilot," and the British call him "Padre." His task, no light one, is to look after the spiritual and moral welfare of some thousand sailor souls. He is general counsellor, friend in need, mender of broken hearts, counsel for the defence, censor, and show manager. Now he comes to the defence of seaman, first class, Billy Jones, whose frail bark of life has come to grief on the treacherous reef of the installment plan, and for whose misd

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XXV IN THE WIRELESS ROOM

XXV IN THE WIRELESS ROOM

I haven't the slightest idea where the wireless room is or how to find it. All that I remember is that some kind soul took me by the hand, led me through various passages and down several ladders, and landed me in a small compartment which I felt sure must have been hollowed out of the keel. The wireless room of a great ship is, by the way, a kind of holy of holies, and my visit to it more than an ordinary privilege. There are as many messages in the air these times as there were wasps in the or

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XXVI MARINES

XXVI MARINES

This paper does not deal with the marines fighting in France, but with the marines such as one finds them on the greater ships. The gallant "devil dogs" now adding fresh laurels to the corps have army correspondents to tell of them, for though they are trained by the Navy and are the Navy's men, the Army has them now under its command. It is rather of the genuine marine, the true "soldier of the sea" that I would speak. Having been myself something of a soldier and a sailor, the marines were goo

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XXVII SHIPS OF THE AIR

XXVII SHIPS OF THE AIR

After I had been to visit several of the bases, I returned to London, and called at the Navy headquarters. A young officer of the admiral's staff who was always ready and willing to help the writers assigned to the Navy in every possible way, came down to talk with me. "Had I been to Base X? To Base Y? Had I been to see the American submarines? The Naval Aviation?" I grasped at the last phrase. "Tell me about it," I said. "I had no idea that the sea flyers were over here. Last fall the streets o

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XXVIII THE SAILOR IN LONDON

XXVIII THE SAILOR IN LONDON

The convalescent English Tommy in his sky-blue flannel suit, white shirt, and orange four-in-hand, the heavier, tropic-bred Australian with his hat brim knocked jauntily up to one side, the dark, grey-eyed Scotch highlander very braw and bony in his plaited kilt, these be picturesque figures on the streets of London, but the most picturesque of all is our own American tar. Our "gobs" are always so spruce and clean, and so young, young with their own youth and the youth of the nation. Jack ashore

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XXIX THE ARMED GUARD

XXIX THE ARMED GUARD

When the Germans began to sink our unarmed merchant vessels, and announced that they intended to continue that course of action, it was immediately seen that the only possible military answer to this infamous policy lay in arming every ship. There were obstacles, however, to this defensive programme. We were at the time engaged in what was essentially a legal controversy with the Germans, a controversy in which the case of America and civilization was stated with a clarity, a sincerity, and a sp

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XXX GOING ABOARD

XXX GOING ABOARD

Giles, who had just been sent to the Armed Guard from the fleet, was waiting for orders in a room at the naval barracks. It was early in the spring, the sun shone renewed and clear; a hurdy gurdy sounded far, far away. The big room was clean, clean with that hard, orderly tidiness which marks the habitations of men under military rule. A number of sailors, likewise waiting for their orders, stood about. There was a genuine sea-going quality in the tanned, eager young faces. The conversation deal

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XXXI GRAIN

XXXI GRAIN

This is "Idaho's" story. He told it to me when I met him coming home early this summer. We were crossing in a worthy old transatlantic which has since gone to the bottom, and Idaho, at his ease in the deserted smoking room, unfolded the adventure. "Idaho, U.S.N.," we called him that aboard, is a very real personage. I think he told me that he was eighteen years old, medium height, solidly built, wholesome looking. The leading characteristic of the young, open countenance is intelligence, an inte

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XXXII COLLISION

XXXII COLLISION

"......Regret to report collision in latitude x and longitude y between tank steamships Tampico and Peruvian ......"— Extract from an Admiralty paper . When supper was over, the two sailors of the Armed Guard attached to the ship went out on deck for a breath of evening air. It was just after sundown, a clean calm rested upon the monstrous plain of the sea; one golden star shone tranquil and lonely in the west. The convoy was almost at the border of the zone. To the left the lads could see the t

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XXXIII THE RAID BY THE RIVER

XXXIII THE RAID BY THE RIVER

The convoy of merchantmen, after a calm, quite uneventful voyage across the ambushed sea, put into a port on the Channel for the night, and the following morning dispersed to their various harbours. Some sort of coast patrol boat "not much bigger than an Admiral's launch," the words are those of my friend Steve Holzer of the Armed Guard, took the S.S. Snowdon under her metaphorical wing, and brought her up the Thames. This Snowdon was one of a fleet of twelve spry little tramps named for the pri

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XXXIV ON HAVING BEEN BOTH A SOLDIER AND A SAILOR

XXXIV ON HAVING BEEN BOTH A SOLDIER AND A SAILOR

When this cruel war is over, and the mad rounds of parades, banquets and reunions begin, I shall immediately set to work to organize the most exclusive of clubs. A mocking and envious friend suggests that our uniform consist of a white sailor hat, a soldier's tunic, British, French, or American according to the flags under which we served, and a pair of sailor trousers with an extra wide flare. For the club is to be composed of those fortunate souls who like myself have seen "the show" on land a

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