Andrew Wareham - Falling into Battle

The documents were ready prepared, needed only his signature in the proper places.

“All has been arranged, Master Richard. You have withdrawn from naval service due to persistent and incurable seasickness – perfectly honourable and yet in no way disabling you from military service. Dartmouth and two years as a midshipman are sufficient preparation for a Territorial commission and the Lord Lieutenant of Northamptonshire has intervened at the War Office – as is not uncommon – to ensure that you are made Second Lieutenant in the Midlands Brigade of the Territorial Army. You should obtain your uniforms this week – a local tailor will provide them, you do not need to go to London – and you will report to the Drill Hall, to Captain Hendricks who is detached from the Northamptonshires to the Terriers this year. I believe the Captains take turns at this duty. Two o’clock on Tuesday, in uniform, Master Richard.”

It was all very brisk and businesslike and almost casual in its disposal of his future.

“Green the Tailor, three doors up on the right, will take your measurements, Master Richard. He has been warned to expect you. Good day to you, sir.”

It was humiliating to patronise a mere provincial man for his uniforms. As a midshipman he had used Gieves, as was proper for a gentleman. He supposed he could no longer claim that status.

“Fittings on Friday, sir. The outworkers will sew the rest up over the weekend, sir.”

The tailor was almost casual in his disposal of Baker – he was another job rather than a valued client.

He still had his ten sovereigns, walked up Gold Street with the intention of patronising the baker there – it had been nearly two hours since breakfast. He stopped and turned away – he must not indulge in sugary confections if he was to achieve a military figure. He had to succeed, to show willing as a young officer so that he could be sent out to play the part his father demanded in this silly little war that was apparently coming soon.

He had considered the future during his sleepless night, had accepted that he must make a success of the Army – and that meant looking like a soldier.

Six months of strutting on the parade ground in Kettering, seeming efficient, and he must become a full lieutenant. He had enough of a military background to make a good show as an officer. He had shot with a Lee Enfield and knew the official drill. Acting naturally as an officer should come easy to him and make him stand out among the amateur soldiers of the Territorials. Then he would have two or three months of war, whenever that came to pass, to make a real promotion, to become a captain and possibly be made a regular soldier. It was winter or nearly so and the war could not start before the summer campaigning season, he knew that. He had just sufficient time to meet his father’s demands and secure his own future. At last, he would not be at sea and having to put up with their silly traditions – he was sure that if he heard the name Nelson one more time he would go mad!

Hector McDuff reported to the cruiser Glasgow for passage to Cape Town. He had three trunks and a leather suitcase on the porter’s trolley, a reasonable minimum, he felt, for a long overseas posting. He had stayed a week with his parents in the London house, enjoying their company after the two years in St Vincent and before going off for another three years. He spent the evenings in the company of his elder brother, a jolly good sort who was a man about town, enjoying his idle years before inheriting the estates and the responsibilities held by his father.

“Might take a seat in the House of Commons, young Hector – give me something to do for a few years. Besides, the Pater says there’s a war coming. One or two of us is enough to show willing on the martial side, the heir should not be risked. Can’t expect an MP to go off to battle, you know.”

It seemed entirely reasonable to Hector – younger sons went off to war, not the heir.

“Got to have someone to look after the family interests, Angus, old bean. I shall be splashing about in the South Atlantic, it seems, from Table Bay to Cape Horn and back. Nothing much likely to happen there – poodle-faking in whatever passes for Society in Cape Town, I should imagine. Young Alastair is what, rising seventeen? Can’t see any war affecting him.”

They considered the youngest brother, currently still gracing Eton, who intended to enter Sandhurst in a year or so and take a commission in the Guards and spend a few years strutting his stuff on ceremonial duty in London. The family would give him an income and see him promoted – they were more than rich enough.

Hector himself had a substantial income settled on him and would be looked after when he eventually left the sea – he had no need to push for promotion and seek responsibility in the way that Adams and Sturton intended.

“No, Alastair will be safe enough. The Guards do not get involved in vulgar little conflicts, after all. Behave yourself in Cape Town, dear boy. Don’t get entangled with a gold miner’s daughter – unless he has a very big gold mine!”

“With diamonds as well!”

They chuckled and parted again, expecting to meet again on the best of terms in a few years, though they would not go as far as to write letters.

The greeting on Glasgow was much as Hector expected – sublieutenants were the least of naval officers and one belonging to another ship and on passage was supremely insignificant.

“Captain will see you, McDuff. In his cabin.”

That was a courtesy and one he had not been certain of receiving.

“Welcome aboard, Mr McDuff. Are you one of the Dumfries McDuffs?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Knew your uncle, years back.”

That explained the courtesy – captains did not always notice passing Subs.

“Have you got your watchkeeping certificate?”

“No, sir.”

“Then you won’t be much use on deck. Do you play bridge?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. You’ll find yourself in demand as a fourth, I don’t doubt. Don’t drink too much, Sub! See the Paymaster about your messing.”

That was evidently his dismissal; he saluted and left.

The Paymaster accepted five pounds as a donation to mess funds and he was pointed in the direction of the wardroom to spend his passage in idleness. It was fortunate, he thought, that he had not yet gained his certificate – he had rather not be watched on a ship where he was no more than a passenger. He devoted the next fortnight to improving his card-playing, always a useful skill for a naval officer.

Good Hope was in harbour at Simonstown when Glasgow arrived to join her squadron, conveniently for all parties. Hector transferred across to her, wasting no time in so doing as was sensible for so junior a man.

Good Hope was a big ship, massive for a cruiser, but was dated in concept and had been sent out to Southern waters as no longer fitted for service with the Grand Fleet. Like most heavy cruisers, she had a pair of nine point two inch guns and a great mass of six inchers, mainly mounted on the broadside and the lowest of them unusable in any sort of sea. The South Atlantic was renowned for the ferocity of its storms and the height of the waves they produced.

She was an impressive seeming ship and no doubt served to overawe the natives in their little harbours, that being a major function of the Navy in lesser parts of the world.

Hector found himself the most junior of sublieutenants and the only one not to possess his watchkeeping certificate. The Commander, who effectively held the position of First Lieutenant of a cruiser, made it clear that he expected him to remedy this lack as quickly as possible.

“You will go to the Navigating Officer’s watch in the first instance, McDuff, and will work with him to his demand until you are capable of standing a watch. That dealt with, you will be transferred to the guns, that being your interest, according to your papers. Captain Ironside has given you a good report – well above average, he says – and it will be up to you to demonstrate that fact. If you live up to expectations, then you will be sent to Greenwich to take your courses for promotion in eighteen months to two years and can then expect to go to Whale Island and come out as a gunnery specialist with a good chance of a dreadnought.”