OUR SAILORS—THE AMPHIBIOUS MAN
Our special correspondent having been permitted the exceptional privilege of obtaining some insight into the work of the Navy, we are enabled to publish the following invaluable article:
Our special correspondent having been permitted the exceptional privilege of obtaining some insight into the work of the Navy, we are enabled to publish the following invaluable article:
But was that really he? That stylish pair of khaki-coloured overall trousers surmounted by a serviceable-looking British warm patrol tunic of the same excellent material? At first glance it was hard to distinguish him from the dapper-looking foot-gunner, with whom he was engaged in lively conversation. Their words were inaudible to us onlookers, but from what one could gather the foot-gunner was making some interesting comments on the system of naval pinnaces.
And was this all of the representative of the greatest naval power that ever placed foot upon the land? But as the observer drew nearer, the flash of illumination came. For there, poised elegantly on the bows of the natty blue trench sou’wester was the emblem of Britain’s naval supremacy, the silver anchor in a golden hoop.
“Shiver my corrugated iron!” he was saying—using a phrase I remembered having heard so often as a young sub-midshipman (or “spotty,” as they are affectionately known by their seniors) on the oldBellicasus—when, noting the presence of company, he turned with a polite smile to the intruders and waved his apologies. It was then that one noted the true stamp of the man. He was a sailor every inch of him, from the drop of salt spray that dangled lazily from the tip of his nose to the purple-tinted seaweed that clung affectionately to the soles of his boots; and his speech was laden with that peculiar crispness and alertness which we associate with sailors; they imbibe it from the salt atmosphere of the gun-room and the ward-room. But what struck one most about him was his youthful appearance. “What’s What” would probably give his age as 29(though he did not look a day more than 28½), and yet from the three bands on his cuff it was obvious to one of the writer’s experience in naval matters that he must be a subaltern-commander.
“Is it much like what you thought it would be after all your training?” I asked.
“Yes, pretty much,” was the reply, with an oddly reminiscent smile. “Iron is heavier than water, and a pinnace afloat is worth six aground.”
Here, I realised, was a man of perception—one who was fitted to guide the destinies of a great nation.
“And the landing of all these vast quantities of stores,” I urged; “is not that a great task?”
“We do not land them,” he said impressively and decisively, with the air of one closing an argument. “We unship them.”
I nodded understandingly. So that, then, was the key to the great mystery.
Lieut.A. L. Pemberton,H.Q. Staff, 24th Siege Bde.R.G.A.
A very presentHelp introuble.
C. E. W. B.