From Midshipman To Lieutenant.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18467, 19 May 1928, Page 23 (Supplement)

From Midshipman To Lieutenant.

SOME REMINISCENCES OF THE QUEEN'S NAVEE IN SAILING DAYS. (By VETERAN.) (XI.). THE “ STAR ” has received the manuscript of some very interesting reminiscences of the Navy in the late ’sixties, and it will be published weekly on the Old Colonist page.

The following day our £Ood dragomen came off to see the ship, and final settlements, etc., were fixed up, and on going on shore they took the sincere thanks and good wishes of all those whose trip they had so carefully conducted and made so pleasant. That afternoon we weighed anchor and proceeded north, our first call being at Hiafa—the best protected harbour on the Palestine coast, with Mount Carmel not far off. We went on shore for_a few hours, but beyond splendid fruit, and some tumbly old castles of the Crusaders’ time, there is little of interest. Next day we passed by Tyre, with a very small harbour, big enough in bygone days, no doubt, to accommodate the class of shipping which thronged there in its palmy time, especially at the time of the building of Solomon’s Temple. We stopped a day at Sidon, a fair harbour, and it is considered the oldest living city in the world, being mentioned in Genesis and Homeric poems. St Paul stopped there on his way to Rome. On a small rocky island forming one horn of the harbour is an old castle connected with the mainland by a solid zig-zag wall of great thickness to withstand the waves which have lashed it for hundreds of years. It was built about 1230 A.D. Jonah was associated with Sidon, and a fine old shrine stands to his memory. The further north we go the better and more abundant the fruit becomes, and very fine eggs were from 2d to 3d per dozen. At Joppa and wherever we went in Palestine eggs were plentiful, and absurdly cheap. There was no egg ring there in those days. They may have learned more since.

Beyreuth, or Beirut, was our _ next place, a fine, roomy harbour with a fine city and large Turkish garrison. We spent a few days here, and our English Consul, Mr Grierson, amongst whose relatives are some in Christchurch, of insurance fame, invited us and all Beirut to a ball he was giving in our honour the night of our arrival. Short notice did not worry us, and everyone who could get away attended, and a most delightful and pleasant evening it was. One sad incident cast a gloom over our gaiety. Among the guests were a number of French ladies and gentlemen. The sad news of the fall of Paris and entry of Germans was received that afternoon, but, notwithstanding that heartbreaking news, the French residents, in honour to the Consul and ourselves, attended, but asked to be excused from dancing. The ladies wore mourning, and I saw many silently weeping as they sat around the ballroom. We, too were full of sympathy, and remembered our good friends in Algiers. It was broad daylight when we finished, and our boats took us off. The supper and refreshments were on such a lavish scale that we did not require any breakfast, and after lunch I personally went to sleep on one of the sofas in the mess, and did not wake up till 4 p.m. I was informed that our Consul, the French Consul, Governor and officer commanding the Turkish troops had all paid visits, each receiving his entitled salute, not a single one of which did I hear, though a good deal of crockery was smashed, as was generally the case when our old guns were fired. We met some of the Turkish officers who kindly placed some very fine horses at our disposal, and took us for rides round the mulberry orchards, the magnificent pine woods, quite celebrated, and to the river, called “The Dog River,” through endless orchards of the silk worm mulberry, grown solely to feed the millions of silk worms, silk being one of the principal exports of that time.

The climate of Beirut is said to be one of the finest in the world. Summer is not intensely hot, and winter quite mild. Beirut was the capital city always of Anatolia, and stronghold of those marvellous old sea rovers, the Phoenicians, the great seamen of the Mediterranean. There is a conspicuous old castle built by the Crusaders, showing evidence of its hoary old age. There were also some fine granite, fallen columns of Roman times, and in digging foundations for buildings numerous stone and lead sarcophagi have been found, with such smaller valuables as jewellery, copper and glass vases. These were to be seen in a small sort of museum. From the heights near a Turkish camp we rode out until could be seen the mountains and cedars of Lebanon in the distance. From here we had intended going up the Dardanelles to the Gold Len Horn, but something caused the captain to change his mind. What it was we never heard.

However, we cruized round the entrance to the straits, and then shaped a course for Larnaca, in Cyprus, then under Turkish rule, till, in 1877 or 78, that grand old master of diplomacy, Disraeli, afterwards Lord Beaconsfield, arranged a concession from the Turkish Government, when we promptly occupied and garrisoned it, thus forming the necessary link in guarding our large interests in the Suez Canal, and of great strategic importance as well in the very unsettled state of Eastern affairs at that time, particularly as Russia was threatening Constantinople. Larnaca is a small town on a low

sandy ' shore with little attraction on shore beyond the cafes, where one drank sherbet or black coffee, and smoked narghilis in the shade of awning verandahs. The one outstanding thing was to attend a small Latin church there, and hear the choir which, in itself, was very fine, but one of its members had the reputation of the finest and deepest bass voice ever known. We attended two or three services to hear him, and it was certainly a marvellous voice. In his low notes the church actually vibrated as one notices when the very low note of an organ is sounded. The Pope was very anxious to get him for the “ Sistine Choir ” and made him repeated handsome offers, but he steadfastly refused to leave the little community amongst whom he had lived. Hearing that choir and that man was the most pleasurable part of Larnaca, and the only thing we regretted was leaving. During our stay an English scien tific party had been granted permission to excavate certain sites of an cient cities, and they recovered some priceless vases and other relics. We met some of these gentlemen, who showed and explained the value and unique forms of various vases, etc. One small insignificant looking glass jug of great antiquity was said to be worth £ISOO. Personally I would sooner have had the money. It was very fragile looking, and how it survi-tfsd when some tougher and stronger looking ones were broken is a miracle. We then sailed for dear old Malta again, arriving just after dark, and steamed silently and slowly into the little grand harbour, every man on deck. Yet you could hear a pin drop, the slow thump of the engines, and the voice of the commander with an occasional order, being the only sound, or a bell on one of the chapels on shore gone mad, as we picked our way thrqugh the ironclads of the Mediterranean fleet to our buoy. Unfortunately it was too late to go to the opera. However we got all the news of the world to which we had almost been strangers while away, and also our English letters from home. Next day we got orders to sail for Gibraltar in a week’s time, some few things requiring attention on board from the naval dockyard, and our coal bunkers to be filled. We also heard that Mile. Albani was ending her season, and leaving for England about the same time. The last night she was to appear was the most discussed topic, and seats which could be had usually for 2s 6d went up to one guinea, and I heard of some being sold towards the end at £5. Every possible box and seat was rushed. Admirals, generals, captains and colonels had the boxes, the rest of us any available seat one could get. The opera was “ Faust,” by general request. There was a very fine orchestra to the opera house, and Albani was at her very best. At the conclusion of the opera, a naval and a military band marched on to the stage and Albani was to sing “ Home Sweet Home.” The whole audience went madly enthusiastic, bouquets being showered on the stage, all hands cheering, and I saw many a damp eye, and it was not amongst the midshipmen and subalterns altogether. Then the orchestra and two bands struck up “ Auld Lang Syne.” It was a sight to remember, hard to describe, but the extraordinary popularity of Albani was fully reflected in the great acclaim of the old “ farewell " song. It was almost impossible to get into Jack Sheppard’s, and once in to get out. So we went off to our ships feeling we had parted with a dear and intimate friend. To me Malta has never been the same since.

We bade Malta goodbye next day, and two days after, while slowly steaming towards Gibraltar just towards sunset, a steamer was seen overhauling us very rapidly, and soon made it out to be the P. and O. with Albani on board. We hauled in to pass her closely, and as she dipped her ensign to us w.e saw Albani standing waving. The band struck up “ Home Sweet Home,” then “ Auld Lang Syne.” The captain led off three cheers, and Albani passed out of our lives to great success. Twentyseven 3'ears ago, about, I saw her on her visit to Sydney, but not the Albani in appearance that I had known as a midshipman. An elderly, sweet, lady, with still, the voice rather mellowed, which used nightly to charm all Malta. A rather funny incident I might add in connection with Albani’s visit to Australia. I was farming ’in Australia near Sydnej r at the time, and had working for me a South Sea Islander from the New Hebrides, called “Jimmy.” He was a typical New Hebridean, a peaceful, willing, worker amongst Europeans, but on returning to his own island a savage again at once, as I know too well. My boys and I were always counting the days to when we would go down to hear her, and Jimmy must have heard us, and thought it must be something good. To my surprise he asked me if he might go to Sydney not at his usual time. I said, “ What you want to go for, Jimmy? ” He said. “ Pat, I want to see Albani,” and he did, but I fear to him the reality was not equal to his expectation. (To be continued.)