Every man rushes away to his respective station. Sharpshooters seize their rifles and climb the rigging; captains of broadside guns and guns' crews repair to their guns and cast off the securing chains; magazine men with a lantern descend the magazines. One who had never seen this sight would find it difficult to believe with what rapidity the movement is carried out. Two minutes after the bugle has sounded, some such order as this is given from the officers' bridge. "Enemy off the port bow! make ready with shrapnell shell. Distance three thousand yards. Elevation twenty degrees." The gun loaded, the breech-block closed, every captain of his gun stands to the rear with the lanyard in his hand awaiting the order "Fire!" which when given, the gun is fired, sponged and reloaded. The order might then be given—"Prepare to ram," in which case the sights are made ready for eight hundred yards, and the guns are fired by electricity, the guns' crews lying down under cover of their respective guns. Other drills are engaged in, until the bugle sounds:—"Cease firing," "Return stores." The men after obeying this command take their hammocks below deck, and providing they belong to the watch below, 'turn in' and resume their sleep; if to the watch on duty, they repair to the upper deck.

One night whilst engaged in action an ammunition box fell upon my hand, taking off four finger-nails. This is only one of the accidents which happen at sea when the ship rolls heavily.

As a ship's company our character would compare favourably with that of any other crew on the station. There were only eight desertions, and one court-martial case in three years. The 'Emerald' was anchored off Dominica. One evening an order was received to prepare for sea immediately, and proceed to St. Lucia to undergo the Admiral's inspection the next morning. The capstan was rigged, the anchor weighed, and soon we were at sea, and every man as busy as a bee. The main yard was lowered and scrubbed, decks received special attention; in fact, we were cleaning all night. In the morning we took up our anchorage at St. Lucia. "All hands" were rushing about their work like madmen. There was no help for it, so short had been the Admiral's notice of his inspection. One bluejacket was whitewashing the inboard part of the cable. The boatswain, believing he was not doing it as quickly as he might, passed a deprecating remark. The sailor in an instant seized a broom which lay near, and lifted it to strike the boatswain, but hesitated, and laid it down. He was put under arrest then and there, the charge against him being "Attempting to strike a superior officer." The boatswain demanded a court-martial, which was held later at Jamaica, the court passing a sentence of eighteen months' imprisonment upon the doomed man. This poor fellow in former years had been a heavy drinker, but during our commission had not taken a drop of liquor—not even his daily allowance of rum. It was understood that ere he left England he had promised a dying sister that he would not touch intoxicants again, and hitherto was faithful to his vow. He received the sympathy of the captain, officers and crew. As his pay would henceforth be stopped, though he were supporting a widowed mother, this sympathy took a practical form. A subscription list was opened, and all subscribed. In this way his poor mother received her half-pay as formerly, the captain sending it home monthly.

As a matter of fact he had served a previous term of imprisonment, which was much in his disfavour, and he knew full well this would be taken into consideration by the court. With this thought weighing upon his mind, and whilst waiting his turn to appear before his judges, he wept like a child—he who was always so brave, courageous and manly. This is a touching instance—an instance of a poor soul striving to do right, striving to be faithful, amid daily temptation, to a sister who had gone before, yet because in a moment of weakness he was overtaken in a fault, he was treated in such a harsh and cruel manner. Certainly discipline must be maintained in the service, and had the matter been settled by the captain, his punishment would have been very lenient in comparison with that meted out by the court. But the boatswain demanded a court-martial. I will not dilate on his action, but remember the Master's words—"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy."

Concerning minor punishments, they were meted out almost daily, such as fourteen days in a cell, seven days IOA or IOB. To be confined in a cell is the penalty for returning on board ship intoxicated, or for breaking several days' leave. For prudential reasons the knife and lanyard of a seaman is taken away when the sentence of cell confinement is passed. In his cell he has to pick a pound of oakum daily, which is weighed every night by the ship's corporal, and his food consists of bread and water, and for the greater part of the confinement he is deprived of his bedding. Let me give an amusing incident in connection with cell punishment. We had shipped at St. John's a young man as an assistant to the captain's cook. Departing from the naval rule of discipline, he received seven days' cell seclusion. One night when the doctor went his usual round asking each prisoner if all were well, this poor fellow replied: "No, sir, I have not enough to eat; I should like a pound of cheese from the canteen." Needless to add he obtained no cheese, and his very request indicates how greatly he lacked knowledge concerning naval discipline, but he learned it in the school of experience.

I mentioned seven days IOA. Now, although I passed through my training days without being beaten by many stripes, I was not so fortunate in the 'Emerald,' though my punishment is but a pin-prick, hardly worth mentioning, but I do so in order to point out that I was no superior being. Strange man indeed would he be who, on such a ship as the 'Emerald,' never stood as a defaulter on the quarterdeck. Yes, I once received seven days IOA, which being interpreted means—That the bluejacket's rum is, stopped; that he is not allowed to smoke; that he only gets thirty minutes to dinner, and has to eat it with other IOA men off a piece of canvas spread out on the upper deck, and the other half of the dinner hour he has to whitewash spare cells: moreover, that he has to rise at 4 a.m. mornings and scrub decks—all this included in IOA. My readers will readily notice that the first clause is a means of strengthening the temperance cause, and non-smokers will see no punishment in the second clause, whilst those who are fond of picnics will consider the third clause a pleasure, but the pinch is felt in the fact that during IOA one's leave is cancelled. Now, IOB is similar to IOA with one or two slight modifications.

Although I was not a smoker I once spat on the deck, and was marked doing so by the first lieutenant. He ordered me to patrol the deck in my spare time with a cutlass, and to capture the first man who repeated the sin, Next day I discovered a transgressor and took him aft to the officer of the day, before whom he confessed and was ordered to relieve me of the cutlass. The sin was a general one, I take it, if judged by the number of men to whom the sword was transferred.

The Third Newfoundland Cruise.

The last southern cruise was drawing to an end, and many were the conjectures as to which place we should depart for England, but the general belief was that it would be Bermuda. When arriving here, at the conclusion of the cruise, we heard news which faded the brightest hope and caused much murmuring. It was to the effect that we had to sail to the fisheries once more. Away to Halifax for another share of warm clothing' and at this port complaining ceased, and I will let you into a secret—the sausages proved the remedy. Who could grumble when living upon such dainties?

On reaching St. John's we saw great improvements in the city. During our absence wooden buildings had been erected, and the appearance of a devastated place had vanished. I will write of two incidents which occurred—the first being pleasant, the second unpleasant. Our ship had moored one evening in a creek on the west of Newfoundland. It was a notorious place for salmon. A large net was put across the creek at its narrowest width, and on hauling it into the boat ninety salmon were caught. These were distributed to the messes, who all enjoyed the salmon dinner, being a pleasant change from salt meat.

Sailing in the second cutter with a high wind blowing and having 'put about,' I noticed the lee-main-stay was not made fast, but was dangling outside the boat. I rose from the bottom of the cutter and stretched out my hand to seize it, when instantly the lee gunwale dipped under water and so did I, with the exception of my right leg, which was jammed crossways in the rowlock. In this position I was carried along for a distance of forty yards, and when the squall had passed over, the boat's crew pulled me in. When naval cutters are under sail the rowlock fittings are filled up with a piece of wood, which corresponds to the fitting. Someone had neglected to slip this piece of wood into the rowlock which held me by the foot. Thank God for that neglect; it was a kindly Providence, for it saved my life from drowning.



CHAPTER V

HOMEWARD BOUND

Homeward Bound! All our stores which we borrowed from Halifax were transferred to the 'Pelican' for her to return. We left St. John's harbour one Sunday evening en route to Plymouth. The crews of the 'Buzzard' and 'Pelican' hailed us 'farewell' as we slowly steamed away from our moorings, and crowds of people gathered on the wharfs to witness our departure. The paying-off pennant was streaming far astern, and every heart felt glad to see it. It was a sign of something beyond expression. Just one more look at the city, a hastening glance at our two companion ships, and we had cleared the harbour. In an hour the land was lost to view, and we were in a dense fog, ploughing the deep, bound for Old England. The wind proving favourable, plain sail was made, and for the next five days we made rapid headway. On the sixth day the wind veered round to the opposite quarter, and in consequence sails were furled, and our speed decreased. However, we were able to make sail again on the ninth day.

What was my intense joy when on the morning of the eleventh day the man on the look-out shouted "Eddystone Lighthouse off the port bow, sir!" This delightful cry had almost the same effect as if the boatswain's mate had piped, "Clear lower deck," as nearly all hands rushed on deck. Breakfast was piped shortly afterwards, but only a scanty number went below to partake of it. I stood entranced with the old familiar scenes which were now becoming more and more visible; in fact, I cannot tell what feelings took possession of me. I have often since felt that the three years' separation from home and loved ones were compensated by the joy of home-coming.

Yes, there was Maker Tower—the last object I beheld when leaving Plymouth in the 'Himalaya' three years before. Nearer and nearer we sailed until all the surroundings became distinct. Rame Head was passed, then Penlee Point, and now the Breakwater Lighthouse loomed in sight.

"Clear lower deck! Hands shorten and furl sail!" was the order. "Come along, lads, it is the last time," said some sympathetic voices.

The guns were made ready for saluting the Admiral and the Port. Then, having anchored, the salute was fired, the port guard-ship replying. A dense fog now settled down on Plymouth Sound, much to my disappointment, for I was on the look-out for my father's approach. Soon there was a cluster at boats round the ship, which had conveyed from the shore all manner of commercial men—Jews with watches for sale, and tailors with their patterns—for no bluejacket would be without his private suit—and others with articles of food. Only a limited number, however, were allowed on board.

My uncle, who resided at Kingsand, had noticed our early arrival in the Sound. He had been requested by my mother to keep a sharp look-out for the 'Emerald.' She had given him money to purchase some food to bring afloat to me. He fulfilled his request with the greatest satisfaction, for an hour after we had anchored, he was on board, with a basket of provisions, enquiring for me. I gave him a hearty welcome, all the more so on account of the basket he bore, as I had foregone my biscuit and cocoa that morning and had had nothing to eat. I will just add that the contents of his basket were eagerly devoured by me and my mess-mates.

My father, so it afterward proved, had been on the Hoe every morning recently, to see if the 'Emerald' had arrived, but on account of the fog this morning he did not walk there, knowing that such a fog would hide the Sound from view, so he contented himself with making enquiries, and was told that no ship had come from sea. As the day wore on he chanced to be in a shop in Plymouth, when one of the stewards of the 'Emerald' entered it, to purchase. That was enough! He flew away, bringing with him a large box of the best provisions that money could buy—it had been packed a whole week in readiness for my home-coming, so as there should be no delay when the ship arrived. A waterman rowed him down the Sound. In my heart I knew there was some mistake, as otherwise my father would have been one of the first to board the ship.

However, about 3 p.m. someone called down the hatchway for me. Instantly I bounded away to the gangway, there to greet my father, who was now on board. We spent an hour together, and at 4 p.m. all visitors were 'piped' out of the ship. The coal was shipped—for we had been coaling all day.

The boats were hoisted, and the anchor weighed. Being a member of the drum and fife band on the 'Emerald,' whose work was to play marches while the capstan was being manned, I must say that our march on this occasion was out of place. A gallop would have been suitable. With four men on each capstan bar, it was nothing less than a maddening whirl, whilst the cry sounded—

"Heave ho! The last time my hearties."

We left Plymouth for Portsmouth to payoff. One of the Portsmouth outfitters had made it his business to come to Plymouth, and to take the return passage in our ship. Truly he was a highly favoured man. Nor was he idle, for he was measuring men for suits of clothes the most of the night. I suppose he did not mind such night-work. We sighted Portsmouth in the morning, and after doing the customary steam trials, proceeded up harbour. Here, as at Plymouth, there were all classes of business men waiting in boats to besiege the ship. Most of them met with disappointment, as only a few were allowed on board. This matter was the cause of complaint being made in an evening paper, which said: "No such restriction was ever manifested by any other ship coming home from a foreign station," and after dwelling on the treatment which had been shown to many who had come alongside the 'Emerald,' the paragraph concluded with words to this effect:—"That the 'Emerald's' commission had been far from being a happy one," words which contained a great deal of truth.

In the course of a few days we made fast alongside the jetty, and returned stores. This taking a month, then came paying-off day. This day is generally associated with the idea of a nice sum of money, but it was far from being so in my case as you shall see. My father had asked me at Plymouth if I should have sufficient money to pay my railway fare from Portsmouth to Devonport. Anticipating I should receive enough for this purpose ort paying-off day, I replied in the affirmative. But during the month at Portsmouth it gradually dawned upon me that my money due would amount to but a very little. Accordingly, I wrote home, informing my parents of the same, requesting them to send me three pounds.

Having no curios with me save a folding looking-glass which I bought at Cape Breton Island, and a figured handkerchief from the Jamaica exhibition, I went ashore one evening at Portsmouth and bought a few little presents to carry home to my relatives in order that they should possess something to regard as a token of the 'Emerald's' home-coming. I did not inform them they were bought at Portsmouth, and for a time they were prized as presents brought home from foreign parts. I gave my father a walking-stick, but I rather think that he from the first knew it was a native of England. Anyhow, the joke has been discovered since, and has caused much laughter from time to time in the home circle.

Three days before the dispersion the chaplain sent for me. On going aft to his cabin, he said, "Cowling, you may have the harmonium." I thanked him heartily for this present. Not desiring to take it home with me, I sold it to a local musician for seventeen shillings, with which I bought a reefer jacket to wear home. At last the happy day came. The captain, with his officers grouped on the quarterdeck, and the paymaster with his staff, began the work of payment. On the seaman's name being called, he stepped toward the pay-table and gave his number on the ship's book; then receiving the money due to him walked out of the gangway. It was now my turn, and although some of the men received from sixty to eighty, and one a hundred pounds, mine was the modest sum of three shillings and sixpence, despite the fact that I had been receiving eightpence a day in addition to most of them—five pence as the organist, and threepence for being a flute-player.

How do I account for the contrast? In this way. Some men did the washing of others, charging threepence per piece, and a shilling for scrubbing a hammock, and others owned a sewing-machine with which in spare time they made uniform suits. Washing and sewing men were bent upon having a good pay-day. These two classes of men would seldom buy any article from the canteen. I should not say they were niggardly or selfish—their course probably was governed by self-denial, or it may be that their future marriage day was the solution of their conduct. As for myself, I never could eat with relish any service food, consequently most of my wages was spent in canteen food, and the remainder on shore. Therefore on paying-off day I received my few shillings as contentedly as those did who were the recipients of many pounds, for I had utilised my money in one way, and they were about to do so in another. That is all.

Little groups of men gathered on the wharf to wish each other 'good-bye,' as it was not likely they would ever meet again. I often think of Collins, who belonged to the same section of the starboard watch as I. He was a very witty fellow. He was asked one day where his messmate Jack Frost was? In reply he answered, "He is on the fore-yard shooting sparrows for the sick." This was amusing, considering at the time we were in a heavy gale far out at sea. On another occasion a civilian at Halifax asked him, "What do you sailors get to eat at sea?" "We live on wind and chew daylight," was his answer.

When outside the dockyard gates I made off to a restaurant for refreshment, and then caught the train for Devonport, reaching it at 8 p.m. My father and a friend were on the platform to meet me. We took a cab to the quay, from which a waterman rowed us across the harbour. Then a journey of another three miles in a carriage, and I was at home, sweet home. My mother and sisters, who had been on the tiptoe of expectation for the last hour, now bounded out of the room as the front door was opened, and I cannot describe what transpired in the lobby for the next few minutes. The tears of joy being wiped away, we all sat down to supper, my companion—he who tasted the leather strap in our school days—being invited to swell the number, and to complete the welcome home. Supper ended, I was made the recipient of various gifts from my parents and sisters. Amongst other things which my mother gave me was a jersey which she had knitted— every stitch of it. It happened one day that my sister took the work in hand and did a little in the making of it, but when my mother discovered this transgression, she lovingly unravelled the stitches, for she said "she desired to make it all herself." Such is a mother's love! Every winter since I have worn the jersey, and even now am wearing it on this cold December day as I pen these lines.

Six weeks' leave were granted me for my absence of three years, which is the naval scale—that is a fortnight for each year, and I carried in my pocket the liberty ticket. Let me tell you what is written on it: The bearer's name, his height; the complexion of his hair, the colour of his eyes, his visible marks (if any) and the nature thereof, also a statement to the effect that he is free from arrest up to a given date which is specified—if not on board his ship at the authorised hour on that date he is regarded as a leave-breaker and punished accordingly.

The six happy weeks passed away all too quickly, and I returned to the Royal Naval Barracks, or, as is understood in naval circles H.M.S. 'Vivid' From here, I was drafted to the gunnery college, H.M.S. 'Cambridge.' It was on this ship that I first saw our present King, he having come on board to inspect the guns' crews at drill, accompanied by his brother, the Duke of Edinburgh, who at the time was Commander-in-Chief of Devonport. After passing through a course of gunnery, which lasted eighteen months, I was sent back to the 'Vivid.' Being entirely out of touch with a seaman's life, I requested to "see the captain" with a view of changing my rating to that of a ship's writer. He granted my appeal conditionally, which meant, that if I were in harbour when the next examination took place, I should be allowed to sit, but if away on a foreign station, of course it would be impossible. To qualify myself in order to succeed in passing this examination I received private tuition when ashore, for which I paid very dearly. Meantime an order was received by the officials to send a draft of bluejackets to Portsmouth to bring to Devonport H.M.S. 'Rupert.' We went to Portsmouth by train. Whilst engaged in taking ammunition on board, a box of heavy cartridge fell on my right foot, and took off the tip of a toe.

I was barefooted, as it was a wet day. Being carried to the sick berth, my foot was treated and bound, and I was ordered to my hammock. On arrival at Devonport, the sick-berth steward took me to the hospital in the naval barracks, where I lay in bed six weeks. You will perceive that my right foot has been unfortunate. It was the right foot which was jammed in the crevice of the rocks the right foot upon which the Portuguese man-of-war was flung, and now again the right foot which received the fall from the ammunition box.

Time wore away, and I was in a state of expectation as to what date the examination would take place. To my bitter disappointment I was told there was to be none that year. Then I began to fear lest before the next I should be sent away to sea, and thus lose my opportunity to enter. Again I was drafted to the 'Cambridge,' as one of her ship's company, and I still resumed my scholastic tuition ashore. A thrill of dread used to seize me when observing the ship's corporal walking along the deck bearing a slate, as it was an indication that someone was to be called upon to prepare for sea. Is it I? was the thought which filled my mind. However, the year had nearly passed away, and I was deeply anxious over the forthcoming examination. "Surely there will be one this year, as there was none last." Such was my reasoning.

One day at the conclusion of my lesson, my tutor said he had very, unpleasant news to break to me. It was this:—That an examination would be held for civilians only, and that an order had been received stating that no seaman should be allowed to change his rating. Oh, I thought, was ever any disappointment so vexatious as mine? I left his house with a wounded spirit, and, having crossed the harbour, walked toward home, a journey of three miles, weeping bitterly and praying nearly all the way. The very heavens above seemed to me as brass, and my horizon appeared dark as the blackness of night; not a streak of light could I find. For two years I had been studying and working hard to qualify for this examination, and had spent most of my earnings in tuition, and now the issue was that in spite of my utter dislike to a naval life as a sailor, I must still pursue it.

The memory of that awful journey comes to mi mind very forcibly at times, and when I hear or know of any sore disappointment occurring in one's life, I fervently pray to God that such disappointment may be immersed in the waters of kindly help and sympathy. May the Christ of Gethsemane comfort all wounded hearts, all crushed spirits, and make sorrow the seed of a new hope, even as He did in my life.

On reaching home that evening my parents observed that I had been weeping, and on asking the cause, the pent-up grief again burst forth. Gradually I became calm, and conveyed to them the news which I had received from my tutor, the naval schoolmaster. They both agreed there and then, that by God's help I should be released from my unbearable life, and that steps should be taken immediately to that end.

Shortly after I came home from sea I attended the Congregational Church at Cawsand, and here, under the influence of my pastor's preaching, made a decision for Christ. He soon put me in harness in church work, and for more than two years I studied theology under him, he kindly coming to my home every Monday evening to help me in that direction. Occasionally he set me an examination paper, and assisted me educationally in every way. This course of theological study began while I was yet in the navy, and often when boat-keeper at the lower boom of the 'Cambridge' have I spent hours in study. To test my preaching abilities, the Rev. Stephen Stroud, for such was my pastor's name, would take me into his church, where in a pew he would sit as a listening critic, while I preached from the pulpit.

The next day I went to him and intimated my parents' decision in consequence of my vexation, and that they wished to purchase my discharge if possible, whereupon he gave me a letter to take to the commander of the ship. In the course of a few days I stood before him on the quarterdeck, and made known my desire to quit the service, and my detestation of a sailor's life. He did not thwart me in any way, but said the request would have to be brought before the Commander-in-Chief of the port, and the Admiralty.



CHAPTER VI

LEAVING THE NAVY

Nearly three weeks had passed—oh, what an anxious time it was! Was there another sorrow in store for me? God forbid. Well, one day at noon, just as I had reached the ship in the staff gig, to which boat I belonged, the quartermaster rushed to the gangway and shouted— "Cowling, you are wanted on the quarterdeck immediately." I lost no time in getting there. In another minute I stood face to face with the captain, who informed me that the Admiralty had granted my discharge. "Right-about-turn! Quick march," was the order of the master-at-arms, but, believe me, it was more of a run than a march. My messmates were forehead awaiting the result, and as I approached them a dozen voices shouted—"How goes it?" "All's well," I replied. "You are fortunate," said they. Dinner was now piped, but I wanted none—my desire was to get on terra firma as speedily as possible. I pulled my bag from the rack, turned it upside down on the deck, distributing all the clothes contained therein, to the value of fifteen pounds. Then I wished my messmates 'good-bye' and went ashore in a gig, feeling like a bird released from a cage. Thus ended my naval career, extending to a period of seven years and nine days. I keep in my study an envelope containing my discharge paper and the receipt for same, which cost eighteen pounds. In reading it, as I sometimes do, my thoughts are carried backward to the day of liberation.

My messmates had decided to present me with a beautiful Bible, which I never received, for this reason. Scarcely a week had passed from the day I stepped on shore a free man, when an order was sent from headquarters for a large draft of seamen to be sent to different parts of the world. Nearly all my former mates were numbered amongst the draft. Consequently they were scattered far apart, and no steps could be taken to carry out their intention. The kind feeling which prompted it I appreciate and accept, as showing what they would have done had the opportunity been forthcoming.

Even in the weeding out of the 'Cambridge' this large company of men, I observe God's providence at work in my own life, for doubtless I should have been included in the draft, having been in harbour three years, which is considered a long stay. My discharge was granted me in the nick of time. "He doeth all things well."

I found employment on shore in Plymouth as a contractor's clerk, and devoted more time to religious studies, for I now felt that as the greatest obstacle in my path had been removed, God would surely open my way to enter His service. He did. By the recommendation of my pastor I was admitted into Cliff College, Derbyshire, completing my training in London.

* * * * *

Though for six years I had nearly become a Baptist, that is, a Congregationalist, I now stepped over the line, having studied the New Testament with an unbiassed mind, to get at the real truth of Scriptural baptism. Being convinced that immersion was the Scriptural mode, I forthwith became baptised in Bow Street Baptist Church, London.

Shortly afterwards, I was invited to the pastorate of a Baptist Church in New Whittington, Derbyshire, where I laboured for a brief period, and at which place I first met the young lady who is now my wife. In the autumn of 1899 I accepted the call to my present pastorate, that of the Ashwater district of Baptist Churches. Understanding that under the new regulations existing which precludes Cliff College students from being recognised as fully accredited ministers, I set to work to overcome the difficulty by passing the two Baptist Union examinations.

Such, then, in brief are a few outstanding incidents of my life, and such is the road I have travelled to enter the ministry—a hard road and painful, bedewed with tears, and strewed with withered leaves of disappointment and weary watchings, but I am bound to confess that it was the path marked out for me. No better training was ever afforded any minister, and to-day I can thank God for it all. What is the great truth which my career teaches me? This: that "God is in the heart of things, and all is well." That He is in every human life, directing, controlling, and superintending it. That nothing happens by chance, and that it is He alone who can transform the wilderness of blighted hope into a paradise of joy; can convert the vale of tears into the sunny path that leads upward to His throne—He alone who can chase away the darkness of night and bring in the sunshine of morning. Unto His name be all the glory!

I cannot but hope that should any darkened life read this little sketch, that such an one may be inspired and comforted by so doing, believing that He who gently cleared my way, granting me the fulfilment of my heart's desire, will in like manner repeat His loving-kindness in that one's life.

"Lead, kindly light, . . . .

. . . . .

Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene; one step enough for me."



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THE END