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In the writing of this little book so many difficulties have arisen that, but for the repeated requests of a generous public for further news of the Midshipman whose earlier adventures are recorded in "From Dartmouth to the Dardanelles," we had been tempted to defer publication until the advent of that longed-for time which "Tommy" speaks of as "Good old après la guerre! " Naval officers on active service are not allowed to keep diaries, and this narrative has been compiled solely from rough not

On August 26, 1915, I went up to the Admiralty for medical survey, was passed fit for active service, and on September 1 I received my appointment to H.M.S. C—— , a super-Dreadnought in the Grand Fleet. Although I knew her to be a very fine ship, I was nevertheless disappointed, as I had been hoping to again see service in a T.B.D. —the few weeks I had spent in one of those craft in the Dardanelles after my last ship was sunk having convinced me that the life was far freer and more exciting than

Three days after that picnic and its sad ending we weighed and returned to the winter anchorage. Of the weeks that followed there is little to tell, as of the few incidents which broke the monotony of ordinary routine discretion forbids mention. Some time in November we proceeded to ——, which same, although a very one-horse place in ordinary circumstances, was a step beyond the more northerly district in point of civilization. But we had only been there about two weeks when I was knocked out by

It was on January 15, 1916, that I finally rejoined my ship. She was then in floating dock at ——. That night the dock was flooded, and next morning we warped out and proceeded to our billet in the harbour. About a week later we left ——, and once more the northern mists closed down upon us. The deadly monotony of the work of the Grand Fleet will probably never be fully realized by any but those whose fate it was to wait day after day, and week after week, for the longed-for encounter with the ene

His Majesty's ship ——, suddenly seized with the hospitable desire to entertain her sister ships, decided forthwith on theatricals. Nothing so banal as any already familiar piece by a "pukka" playwright was contemplated.... A combination of fertile naval brains produced the book of the words crammed with topical and cryptic allusions; the music was borrowed from the latest comic operas and revues, and the actors were recruited mainly from the ranks of junior officers. Then in due course the follo

On Tuesday, May 30, 1916, we were at our northern base lying quietly at anchor, when in the course of the afternoon a signal was received from the Flagship ordering steam. From this we presumed that we should shortly depart for one of our periodical trips to sea for the purpose of executing manœuvres. An hour or so later some of the light cruisers got under way, and on our ship the bugle-call "Special Duty Men" was sounded off. The first part of the watch on deck went on to the fo'c'sle to short

Those whose men took part in the Battle of Jutland may forgive—I think they can never forget—the way in which England received the first tidings of that heroic fight. It is the custom in many quarters to blame the Admiralty for the wording of their first published report; but, as my son wrote to me: "They only said that there had been an engagement, and that we had lost certain ships. Why should people jump to the conclusion that the enemy's losses were less than ours?" Why indeed! It showed, no

The only damage affecting her fighting efficiency which our ship sustained in the Battle of Jutland was the damage to her boat booms. This was repaired within the week, and, had the necessity arisen, we could have again gone into action seven days after our return to the northern base. But the Huns were far too busy licking their wounds to trouble us further at this time. Gradually and grudgingly they were forced to admit the great losses which they had at first so strenuously denied and ignored

On January 15, 1917, we left the base where we had spent Christmas and proceeded northward again, but nothing worthy of note occurred until some six weeks later. Then one day we were going to sea for manœuvres, and soon after we had cleared the harbour some of us Snotties at the time variously occupied in the gunroom were startled by blasts from the siren. We promptly rushed up on deck to find the ship rapidly altering course to port; at the same moment the forward 4-inch guns fired a salvo, and

From the view-point of the Grand Fleet the summer of 1917 was uneventful, but for me and for my contemporaries in the gunroom, the months of June and July held a peculiar and rather apprehensive interest. Having completed just on three years' service as Midshipmen, we were faced with the ordeal of exams, which must be passed before we could get our stripe, i.e. be advanced to the rank of Sub-Lieutenant. In May we had one of our rare and brief spells of "leave"—just ten days from the ship—and on

Although the disaster to the Vanguard took place when we were in harbour, and the ill-fated ship was lying only about four cables from us, I personally was not a witness of her sad end, for it took place about 11.30 P.M. , at which time I was asleep in my hammock, and—strange as it may seem—I was not even aroused by the noise of the explosion. However, next morning one of my messmates gave me the following account of what he had seen. He had been just about to turn in when he heard the detonatio

The course in the Vernon lasted for one week, and when it was finished we were free to go on leave till we received our new appointments. After about seven days' leave I was appointed as second in command of H.M.S. P—— , based at Portsmouth, and arriving in that town on the evening of October 1, in accordance with instructions I reported myself at the R.N. barracks. It appeared that nothing was known there as to the movements of ships, and I was referred to the Commodore's office. There I could