Chapter V The Squadron Leaves Hurriedly
A Break-down Averted—The “Sylvia” and the Destroyers
The Narrative is continued by Lieutenant Hugo John
Pattison, R.N.
My name is Pattison, and I’m lieutenant in command of destroyer “No. 1”, belonging to Captain Helston’s squadron; and trouble enough I had to get her, and shouldn’t have done so after all, but for a jolly little girl living at Fareham, who knew the Skipper when he was on half-pay.
“No. 1”, of course, you remember, was damaged by the explosion out at Spithead, and had spent weeks in Portsmouth repairing. At last everything was ship-shape again, and on 16th October we were lying alongside the basin waiting for the Skipper, who was coming out on our trials, with steam blowing off in clouds and Elridge, our Engineer, getting very impatient. Presently down came Captain Helston, looking pretty well fagged out, and with him surly old Dr. Fox, and his Yankee secretary. Directly they got aboard, I cast off and threaded my way down the harbour and out to Spithead. As we were passing the end of Southsea pier the Captain borrowed my telescope, and saying, “There they are again”, handed it to me.
“Those three Chinese, sir?” I asked him.
“Yes; they followed me down from town, and have been shadowing me for the last four weeks. You can imagine I am thankful to get afloat once more.”
On our way to the measured mile we had to pass close to the rest of the squadron anchored at Spithead, and we stopped engines alongside the Strong Arm, whilst a boat came across for orders.
When we started again the Skipper seemed much relieved, and I quickly knew why, for he came for’ard to the bridge and told me to make for a rendezvous 250 miles s.w. of the Needles, and that there we should be joined by the rest of the fleet. “Thank God, Pattison, I’m at sea once more!”
“Not going back, sir?” I asked, naturally very surprised.
“No, Pattison, no. I’m sorry to inconvenience everybody, but it was absolutely necessary. Haven’t you wished your people good-bye yet?”
“No,” I answered, getting rather red in the face, for I was thinking that I had never even thanked the little girl who had got me my appointment.
“Nor have I, nor have I,” half sighed the Skipper to himself.
The Doctor was apparently in the secret, but Hopkins, the Yankee, seemed terribly cut up, as he had made arrangements for a week’s leave on very urgent private affairs, and in fact was only waiting for “No. 1” to get back to Portsmouth to start. How strange it is that Americans never seem to have any idea of discipline? He took it almost as a personal insult that he had not been informed previously, and for a second I thought he would fly at the Captain, he looked so angry. However, he calmed down quickly enough.
The orders that the Captain had sent aboard the Strong Arm were to direct Captain Hunter to proceed to the given rendezvous at easy speed, weighing as soon as possible after sending a boat ashore to telegraph to the Captain of the Laird.
They were exceedingly prompt in obeying this last order, for before five minutes elapsed, we saw their picket-boat tearing along in the direction of Portsmouth.
Hopkins is a careless fellow, and nearly brought us to grief. He had been down below poking about in the engine-room, and, just before we began to settle down to our trial, Elridge came up to the bridge to report to the Captain. As he was going away again he jokingly said to Hopkins: “It’s lucky I went round after you. You know those lubricator feeds you couldn’t understand? I found that you’d left every oil-cock turned off, and our starboard crank bearings would have been red-hot in a few minutes. You are a careless beggar.”
“I’m so mighty inquisitive,” apologized Hopkins, and asked Elridge to let him come down below again.
“Certainly not; I want you up here,” said Captain Helston, in so angry a manner that everyone was quite astonished.
The news that we were not going back soon spread amongst my men, and Captain Helston ordered me to fall them in, just abaft the bridge, and made them a little speech—just the right thing—no big words and high-sounding phrases. He told them he was very sorry they wouldn’t have the opportunity of wishing their friends good-bye, said he relied on them to do their duty, and held out the probability of prize-money. He has a fine, tall, commanding figure, and his speech went down with the men very well.
Nothing important happened. We never pressed the engines to full speed, and after a short time dropped to fifteen knots, which we kept up all through the afternoon, steering out of the usual course of ships running up or down channel till we reached the rendezvous and stopped engines.
Next morning “No. 2” and “No. 3” joined us. Late that afternoon the Strong Arm and the Sylvia, armed store-ship, joined company, and, ten hours later, we were all exceedingly pleased to sight the Laird. Captain Helston, his secretary, and Dr. Fox went aboard her as soon as possible, and the squadron, now united for the first time, steamed for Gibraltar.
I rather fancy we were all somewhat disappointed at sneaking away in the dark, as it were, and had rather expected, and looked forward to, a hearty send-off. There wasn’t much time for regrets, however, for we had all our time taken up keeping station with the next ships ahead and astern, and plenty to think about.
Our little squadron made a brave show. First came the Laird. She was a cruiser of 6500 tons, with a narrow 4-inch belt all round her water-line. On her fo’c’stle she carried an 8-inch Q.F., another on the poop, and on each broadside were six 6-inch Q.F.—three on each side of the main deck in casemates, and three above on the upper deck behind shields.
Besides these she had eight 12-pounders and six 3-pounders, three in her fore-top and three in the maintop of her military masts. Four Maxims were mounted on the two bridges, and she also carried two 12-pounder field-guns. She had Belleville boilers, and had done 22-1/2 knots on her trial. She did not carry much coal, however, everything being sacrificed to armour, guns, and speed, so that her total coal stowage was only 900 tons.
After her came the Strong Arm: 3600 tons, eight 6-inch Q.F., ten 6-pounder Q.F., three 1-pounders; speed, 20 knots.
She had a search-light platform, with a fighting-top under it, on each mast, and these gave her a somewhat clumsy appearance; but she was a fine heavily armed little cruiser, and excellent in a sea-way.
The third in the line was the Sylvia, a trim, looking, strongly built merchant steamer, with a raking funnel and two pole masts.
She had four 12-pounders mounted on her sides and in addition carried two more field-guns and a couple of Maxim guns on field-carriages, which two guns were destined to play a very important part.
Besides 2000 tons of coal, she carried great supplies of provisions, ammunition, and stores of all kinds. On board also were the torpedoes and torpedo-tubes of the destroyers, for these had been taken out to lighten them during the long voyage to Hong-Kong. “No. 1”, “No. 2”, and “No. 3”, in this order, brought up the rear of the line. Each of us carried one 12-pounder on our bridges, and five 6-pounders in addition. As it happened, though otherwise almost indistinguishable, my boat, “No. 1”, had four funnels; “No. 2”, two large ones, far apart; whilst “No. 3” had three. The identity of each could therefore be seen at a glance. “No. 2” had actually made the highest speed on her trial, 29.6 knots, “No. 3” had just touched 29.5, and my boat 28.9; but probably in a long race there would not be much to choose between them. We could practically keep up between 25 and 27 knots indefinitely, and be able occasionally to get another two knots for a short burst.
As to the men who formed the crews, there were on board:
Laird................... 463
Strong Arm.............. 312
Sylvia.................. 40
Three destroyers.......... 177
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Total................. 992
The Laird carried 80 Marine Light Infantry and 100 naval petty officers and men; all the rest of the crew were picked from the Naval Reserve.
The Strong Arm had 40 Royal Marine Artillery and 60 Royal Navy men.
All the crews of the destroyers were men of the Royal Navy, previously trained in these delicate, fragile little craft.
Such was the composition of the little squadron, which, manned by nearly a thousand men, all volunteers, slowly steamed away from the rendezvous late on the afternoon of 18th October, and, painted a dull olive-green from truck to water-line, shaped its course for Gibraltar, and soon disappeared in the rapidly closing twilight.