With the Battle Fleet Part 5

"I would ask to be allowed to offer my congratulations on the good behavior of your men on leave. A residence of seven years in Gibraltar, which is a rendezvous of the fleets of the world, has given me some experience of Jack ash.o.r.e, and I can a.s.sert that your men have established a reputation which would be hard to equal and impossible to beat."

The Commander-in-Chief wishes to express his gratification that the conduct of the men has been such as to merit the words quoted above.

That farewell banquet was fine. Every officer and man on the fleet appreciated its kindly and sincere tone and every man was ready to vote Gov. Jackson a brick. There was just one comment made throughout the fleet, and it might as well be set out here, with no intention of raking over the ashes of the past offensively. That comment was:

"There is nothing of Swettenham about Jackson. He's all right!"

The letter from Gov. Jackson sustains what has been said at the beginning of this letter; the official welcome was cordial, sincere and without reserve.

The trip to Rio was marked by two celebrations, New Year's Day and the visit of Neptune on crossing the line. One should not think, because these letters record considerable hilarity on three occasions--Christmas and the other two--all within two weeks, that such is the normal condition on an American wars.h.i.+p. These celebrations happened all about the same time--that is all. The prevailing condition on a wars.h.i.+p is anything but hilarity, as will be revealed later in these letters.

New Year's, like Christmas, was a general holiday for the fleet. There were quarters in the morning as usual, but after that there was no work and the smoking lamp was lighted all day. Extra things at dinners were provided. As was general on sh.o.r.e, the new year was welcomed with due ceremony and celebrations on the s.h.i.+ps. As soon as it was night on December 31 it was evident that something would be doing by midnight.

There was no concerted programme. About 10 P. M. the officers began to drift one by one, into the wardroom. It was a very decorous a.s.semblage.

Its members began to tell stories. Now and then a song would start up, and all would join in. A fruit cake made by a fond mother at home was brought out. In some way the eggnog cups seemed to steal out on a side table. Then came a mixture that touched the spot and unloosened the vocal powers.

It wasn't long before the "Coast of the High Barbaree," "Avast! Belay!

We're Off for Baffin's Bay," and other songs were being rolled out to the swaying, dipping of the s.h.i.+p in the swells that the strong eastern trades were booming up against the port side. Naval Academy songs were shouted. One officer thoughtlessly sat in the barber's chair in the rear of the wardroom. A great rush was made for him and he was tousled and rumpled and pulled and hauled. He squirmed out of the grasp of his tormentors and then the "Coast of the High Barbaree," with "Blow High, Blow Low," was rolled out again.

Soon it became evident that a New Year's song must be sung. The Christmas song of the Vermont, with the highrolling, lob-e-dob swing in it, was taken as a model and there were a few minutes for adaptation to the Louisiana. When it had been rehea.r.s.ed properly, it was decided to send a special New Year's greeting to the Vermont's wardroom, because the officers of that s.h.i.+p had made a Christmas serenading call on all the s.h.i.+ps on Christmas night in Trinidad. One of the Vermont's officers is Dr. F. M. Furlong. His mates on Christmas Day had nominated him for president and so informed the Louisiana's wardroom when they reached this s.h.i.+p. He was made to make a speech of acceptance and in apparent seriousness he grew eloquent over his chances and his platform. The New Years greeting from the Louisiana to the Vermont was something like this:

"The Louisiana's wardroom sends happy New Year greetings to the Vermont's wardroom and pledges the solid W. C. T. U. vote to Dr.

Furlong. Back districts, from the gra.s.sy slopes of the Green Mountains to the saccharine depths of the Pelican canebrakes, all heard from.

We're happy and well. Happy New Year! Happy New Year! Happy New Year to you!"

The greeting was sent to the bridge to be flung into the air on the illuminated semaph.o.r.e signals at five minutes to midnight. Then came the final rehearsals of the New Year song, and just as the signals were sending the greeting to the Vermont a dozen l.u.s.ty officers stole up to the quarterdeck and sang their song softly to see if it was all right.

Then they climbed on the upper deck, stepped quietly along the gangway to the forward bridge. They were as silent as Indians. One of them had a great Christmas palm branch fully twelve feet long. One by one they sneaked up the port ladders and stowed themselves far out on the port side of the bridge. All was quiet until eight bells was struck and then eight bells more for the New Year. A great burst of song startled the officer of the deck just as the last letter of the message to the Vermont had been flashed. The song was:

Happy New Year! Happy New Year!

We're happy and well.

Here's to the Lo'siana And don't she look swell!

We're a highrolling, Rollicking crew; Happy New Year! Happy New Year!

Happy New Year to you!

The great palm branch was swung around to the danger of utter disarrangement of engine room signals, and the officer of the deck growled out something about a lot of wild Indians. A high flinging dance followed on the bridge, with the Happy New Year song shouted twenty times or more.

"Get out of here!" ordered the bridge officer.

"All right; we'll serenade the Captain!" shouted the merry crew. Down to the lower bridge, where the Captain has his emergency quarters while at sea, they went. The Captain got a good dose of noise, but being a discreet man he said never a word. There was a rumor that he wasn't inside at all and that, knowing what to do on certain occasions, he had decided to remain in his private rooms below, where not even unofficial knowledge of any high jinks could reach his ears.

Then the procession started for the quarterdeck, and leaning far over the rails on the starboard side with the stiff trade wind blowing the sound from the megaphoned throats of the singers, happy New Year's greetings were sung to the Georgia, 400 yards back and to starboard.

That s.h.i.+p heard it easily.

Then came a procession through the Louisiana. The members of the crew were slung in their hammocks, but numerous noises of catcalls and horns and shouts told that no one was asleep. At every section of every division on every deck the sailors were greeted with song. They sat up and cheered. It was fine to have a party of officers come around and wish you a happy New Year. Every mess of the s.h.i.+p received a call. When the warrant officers' mess was reached there was a brilliant display of pajamas and--well, in print one musn't go into particulars too fully.

Regulations must be obeyed strictly even when you're having a good time.

All the regulations were obeyed--several times, and then some--in that big roundup.

Didn't the bos'n sing:

Bad luck to the day I wandered away.

and then go into the forty-seven verses about life on the "Old Colorado"? Didn't the electrical gunner join with the chief engineer in giving down the twenty-seven bells song? Didn't the carpenter dance a highland fling? Didn't the scholarly warrant machinist from the Boston Tech. tw.a.n.g a banjo and set the pace for the "Old New York" and the "Dear Old Broadway" songs? And then didn't someone remark that "dear old Kim" hadn't been seen in all the parading that night? A rush was made for Kim's room but it was barricaded.

"Come out, Kim!" was the order.

"Not on your life," was the response.

And then, for revenge, didn't the crowd sing a song about Kim? Every man who knows anything about the United States Navy knows Kim, the genial paymaster's clerk, who sits in the junior officer's mess to keep the youngsters in proper submission, and who has trained a generation of officers in things naval; Kim, who has sailed the high seas in the United States Navy for a quarter of a century and knows so much about the s.h.i.+ps and officers that he wouldn't dare to tell it all and ought to be made an Admiral for his knowledge and his discretion; Kim, who has to salute many a man with a star on his sleeve and some of them with two stars, the minute he sees them, and then can call them Bill and Jim and Tom in private; Kim, the best beloved, all around good fellow on the s.h.i.+p; yes, everybody knows Kim. It isn't necessary to print the full name of this obliging, hard working autocrat of the paymaster's office.

This is the song that greeted him:

Everybody works but dear old Kim, He sits 'round all day, Feet upon the table, Smoking his Henry Clay; Young Pay pays out money, Old Pay takes it in; Everybody works on this s.h.i.+p But dear old Kim.

Howls of glee from warrant officers, from petty officers, from hundreds of hammocks greeted the song. Kim chuckled but wouldn't come out.

Finally the siege could be resisted no longer and out came Kim in full regulation pajamas and the din was terrific. It was a dance all around and some more strictly regulation things to drink. Happy New Year was sung for the 273d time and then came a further inspection of the s.h.i.+p.

Wasn't it time for the dinner for New Year's Day to be tested in the cook's galley? Wasn't there as fine a specimen of the genus turkey as graced any board in the United States all ready to be tested? And wasn't it tested until nothing but the rack was left?

The fire rooms had to be visited and down slippery ladders with the machinery chugging and rolling and plunging the piratical crew stole.

Where men were sweating in front of furnace doors in watertight compartments the greeting was sung and the words "Happy New Year" were chalked on furnace doors. Perhaps the engines lost a revolution or two, or the steam slowed off just a bit and the officer of the deck wondered why he was unable to keep his position of 1,200 yards from the flags.h.i.+p exactly, but what did it matter?

And when the rounds were all completed and the pirates a.s.sembled in the wardroom for their final song and final--well, never mind that--didn't a messenger from the bridge come down with a signalled message from the Vermont with a toast that was being offered in the Vermont's wardroom:

Here's to you, Louisiana, Here's to you, our jovial friends?

Every s.h.i.+p was having a celebration something like that. It's impossible to give the details because when a big fleet is going along at the rate of ten knots an hour and fighting a mean Amazon current as well, and the semaph.o.r.es and other signals are being kept busy with official messages it isn't exactly good form for newspaper landlubbers to ask to be allowed to inquire what was done on the other s.h.i.+ps, matters which, even if told unofficially, would not look exactly attractive all written out in a signal book, because you can't put much fun in a signal book entry.

There must have been a good deal of the happy-go-lucky spirit on some of the s.h.i.+ps, for on two or three of them the rollickers got at the siren whistles and blew them. That is something that might prove serious to a fleet sailing as this is, because the blowing of siren whistles, except at a certain hour of the day, when all the whistles are tested--they call the noise the loosening of the dogs of war--means grave danger and it is time to act at once. But New Year's came in happily all around and when the fun was over the one thought of the rollickers was that within a week Neptune would come aboard and after that there would be a long dry spell.

When quarters were sounded a little after 9 o'clock on New Year's morning all hands appeared. The usual formality marked the occasion. The Captain came up and looked precisely as if his s.h.i.+p had been as quiet as a grave all night; the executive officer answered salutes with an incisive manner, as each officer approached and reported his division "all present or accounted for"; the members of the crew gave no hint that they had seen any officer roaming about the s.h.i.+p only a few hours before in a free and easy manner violating all ordinary traditions of a naval officer's dignity. And as for the warrant officers, when they saluted and gave you an icy stare, as if they might have met you somewhere once upon a time but really had quite forgotten your name, you felt relieved and glad that those two or three red streaks on your left eye ball had escaped general notice, and then it was that you felt like writing an apostrophe to discipline in the American Navy.

Of the trip itself to Rio--the mere sailing of it--there is not much to record. It was done in squadron formation--two lines of wars.h.i.+ps, with the supply s.h.i.+ps Glacier and Culgoa bringing up the rear midway between the lines. For six days off the upper part of South America there was quite a heavy swell and a strong Amazon current that r.e.t.a.r.ded the progress of the s.h.i.+ps to some extent.

One day the swells were so heavy as to make the sea moderately rough.

Every s.h.i.+p in the fleet buried its nose under the water constantly and sometimes the seas would slip up the sloping fronts of the turrets and splash their spray against the bridges. The sun was bright, and as these seas would come over the bow and spread their ap.r.o.ns of water over the forward parts of the s.h.i.+ps the colors would change from blue to green, with white fringes, and then the sun would arch rainbows over the boiling torrents that would run from the sides as the s.h.i.+ps rose to the tops of the waves. The sea was tossing and tumbling far out to the horizon circle, and as the s.h.i.+ps dipped and rose they seemed like veritable warhorses of the sea rearing and plunging in royal sport. It was a beautiful spectacle, and it lasted all of one day.

Soon after rounding the far eastern corner of South America there came a little comedy. The Illinois had dropped out of column formation to adjust some trifling disarrangement of machinery and some one on her thought he saw a raft to the eastward with two men clinging to it.

Those in charge were evidently new to this coast and did not recall that fishermen of the Amazon region often sail 150 to 200 miles out to sea in the small catamarans that look more like logs or rafts than fis.h.i.+ng vessels. A signal was sent to the Culgoa.

The fleet had no information at this time as to why the Culgoa suddenly dropped out of column and headed to the east and then to the north until she was nearly hull-down. Soon it became known that she was bent on a rescue and the correspondents got out their note books and began to prepare to make much of the incident. After two hours the Culgoa was back in her place with what seemed to be a sheepish look to those familiar with the situation. She had found two men on a raft--that is to say, on a catamaran--and they were fis.h.i.+ng and seemed content with their station in life and especially honored because a naval vessel of the United States had gone out of her way to greet them. The intention was all right and good form did not permit the bantering of any humorous personalities on the situation.

Three nights out from Rio Admiral Evans ordered the first searchlight practice for the fleet. Let it be understood that there are certain things which a correspondent may not send from this fleet or even reveal afterward. They relate especially to tactical things, the things that may give information or some hint of information of importance to other nations. All navies have searchlights, however, and what will be said here of the drill will be of that nature familiar to every naval man and no more. It was merely a warming up, so to speak, of searchlight work, just a test to see if all the apparatus was in good condition.

The drill was to begin at exactly 8 o'clock. Long before that time every searchlight had been uncovered and connected up and all eyes were waiting for the Connecticut to begin the flas.h.i.+ng. Just as eight bells were struck, when not more than half a dozen lights were visible on each s.h.i.+p of the fleet, a great beam of white shot out across the starboard of the Connecticut. Instantly ninety-six beams like it darted into the air and the ocean for something like a square mile became illuminated as though the full glory of the heavens had descended upon it.

You who have seen Coney Island lighted up on a summer's night may form some idea of the scene if you can concentrate in your imagination the lights down there turned into a hundred great shafts, sweeping, dancing, swinging, soaring into s.p.a.ce, each light with the sheen of a full moon brought right down within the grasp of a man who turned a cylinder about as he pleased and said to the rays go here and go there. It was like a new world sprung into existence before your very eyes. Something of the meaning of the power of a fleet of wars.h.i.+ps was revealed to you. It was merely a small part of this power, just a trifle of the strength of wars.h.i.+ps put on display because it could be tested in no other way.

Each s.h.i.+p had six of these lights. The rules do not permit the rays of one s.h.i.+p to be displayed upon another because it imperils navigation for one thing, and there are also other naval reasons. It required some skill to avoid lighting up your neighbor s.h.i.+p. As soon as the lights were turned on the men managing them began to swing and twist them, now fast, now slowly, about each s.h.i.+p. When the rays struck the water, say, about 300 yards away from a s.h.i.+p and each light was turned slowly around the vessel, it was as if so many sprites of the sea were dancing about like children around a May pole. Then a beam would go scampering away as if it had the concentrated velocity of a hundred 12-inch shots.

Then there would come a period of helter-skelter playing of the lights until a slow movement of searching on the waters was in progress. Each s.h.i.+p looked as if it were a thousand legged spider, each leg made up of a ray of light. Sometimes the lights of a s.h.i.+p would be interlaced; again they would be centered on some spot far out in the water.

The rolling crests of the swells would be whitened with the gleam of thousands of diamonds. The reflection of the light beams made bands of purple and deep green upon the water. The stars lost their brightness.

It was as if the Yankee s.h.i.+ps had reached out and stolen a good share of the strength of the sun--which actually was the case from the standpoint of science--had stored it in their holds and then had sprung it at night, just to show what could be done in the way of robbing the powers of darkness of their evil aspect. For half an hour the thrilling exhibition continued and just as you were preparing to throw up your hat and give three cheers for Uncle Sam and his navy an officer brought you back to you feet with the quiet remark: