THE NEW ARMADA.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 12504, 17 December 1918, Page 4

THE NEW ARMADA.

CROSSING THE ATLANTIC.

Hie L.M.S. boro a famous namo m pre-war tunes. Now she is No. a mere unit in a motley company. Camouflaged from stem to stern, only a nautical eye could catch the majestic outline tliat used to advertise her splendid individuality to the whole world. In those far-off days she ploughed her swift furrow alone, a proud greyhound of the deep. Now she must hold her pace, and wait on tho humblest of her companions. The.mad vibration of her ancient sliced is gone, alio moves slorely, smoothly, almost imperceptibly. What thinks she of the changeP What of the dozen or ■ more ships of cverv shape and size that surround her? What of the screen of protecting warcraft, the fretting-midget chasers, tho busy torpedo-boats, the gallant cruiser abeam, the stately airships above, the soaring aeroplanes P And what of her freight?

Hie pageantry of her departure from a- Imsy part of the New World is splendid, the ordered progress of that highlycomplicated fleet is wonderful, and vet —inost marvellous of all, is her freight. They crowd along the rails to,gaze. Host of them are looking on tlie sea for the lirst time. There is a slight tightening of lips when the whole ship shudders at the explosion of distant depth-charge. There, is swift turn of heads when a machine-gun spits, at something floating by. One’s first ocean passage, even in normal times, is a vivid experience; the unknown element, the immensity of it, the restlessness of it, the helplessness and ignorance of a landsman. But in these days, when the spice of a still greater and more uncertain danger is added, when the journey’s end is bub a. new and keener Imzard—those men ■will not soon forget. • •

. They sit, tightly packed, in the dicing saloon, while an elderly civilian passenger, perhaps an 'English M.F., tells them stones of Europe, extols their amis. They are so .curiously alike in some ■ways, these hundreds, these thousands ot meui They are all young, thev arc almost all of a size,' tiioy are supremely fit. Clean-shaven, clean-skin-ned, olear-eyod, strong, supple, wea-ther-proof, they all have that indescribable poise that would seem to spring Iroin the conscious resource of: a New World. Yet they are curiously unlike too. I heir names are English, Irish, Scgtch not a few, hut also Gerihan, Slav Italian, Hungarian, and stranger labels still. Many of them .have had to learn English in order to learn drill, Many have marked foreign accents. Some possess hut a broken tongue. The physical peculiarities of their parentage are also there., One can pick out the Teuton, the Slav, the Latin, as well as i the American pure, West, or East. But the New World tells in them all; thri keenness, the directness, the buoyancy 1 k ', There has never been-such aii army before. • ■

Da L nfter fleet steams slowly ou. The men exercise along the decks, Or stand quietly watching the panorama of the sea. They play chess and draughts and bridge, and “Red Dog.” 1 hey have concerts, they have a band. Hie hand plays and they sing the songs of camp, tho songs wo used to sing two, three, and four years-, ago. „ir s a " ou f? Way to Tipperary.” (, >i iere l ! “ Jo, m Brown** urn/’ T Through Georgia,” nk Trail.” Occasiouf l y.. MarseilJaise,” “Hail Columbia,” “Yankee Doodle.” Thev aro quieter than the British Tommy, slower than the French poilu. Themvstery of the sea is still upon them. But they arp serene and confident, with aii underlying sense of responsibility and determination felt rather than expressed. One feels that these are those same emigrant Pilgrims, purged of them narrowness by tho youth of a Now World, returning to stamp out the modern inheritors of that brutal intolerance which drove them from the Old. ■_ - At/; last tho rumour runs that our British escort is duo. Soon there are black‘specks on tho horizon, ‘ and everybody crowds to see. A new flotilla is surrounding us v manned by the world-famed Jack Tar. The'last lap is begun. An airship-comes up out of the blue. The Fleet steams on. There is some kind of a fuss away vonder. The escort buzzes about. Depth-charges explode, there is a noise of ' distant: guns. -Then hack to formation and routine again. Till at length a dim hne is seen ahead, which is Britain, Europe, the Ancient World from which we all originally come. The lato Duke of . Medina-Sidonia, who lod that ancient Armada to these shores, would probably agree that the success qr failure of such enterprises depends very largely on the reception they meet with in British waters. This Armada thinks so too.—" Saturday Review.” .