HUMOUR IN CORK BELTS

Dominion, Volume 11, Issue 154, 19 March 1918, Page 5

HUMOUR IN CORK BELTS

»_! SENSATIONSy AND IMPRESSIONS OF A "TORPEDOED" THE PSYCHOLOGY OF "NEAR SQUEAKS" It is a few minutes past ten when the first torpedo strikes. One of tho officers kiighs, as much as to'say, "Here she is." Then they put on their cork belts; and hurry on deck. Surely a strange time for mirth, but 'Albert Kincross, the man who laughed, explains tile psychology of it in "The Atlantic Monthly." "Crude and horrible as it may sound, tliero was a large portion or my consciousness which was most vividly and delightedly enjoying itself," he says. "I will try to oxplain why." Then he. writes:— "Chiefly the whole thing was so terrible as ,to be quite unreal. In that way it defeated itself. I, for one, simply could not believe in it. 'Such things are done at the pictures or at Drury Lane; they are not donei in real life.' 1 was arguing something like that, very swiftly, no doubt, very subconsciously. I am not awaro that I argued, but I do know that at the outset tho whole thing seemed like an exciting, wonderful adventure, and withal quite unreal. "Just ■ picture us on a ' great liner, cozy as a grand hotel. Everything was remote from war and death, as I have •seen them so constantly on land these last three years. No mud, no dirt, no continuity. And wo were all at ease and leading civilian lives, with bathroom's, linen sheets, and even an American bar! I don't lcnow_ why, but I,had imagined it all quite differently. "As one rushed upstairs one, thought of things one had valued yesterdaytwo brand-new pairs of boots, one's field-glasses, some money—they seemed now so utterly of no account. Providence must have been with me, for, arrived on deck, I stood flush before my boat, No. 13. I stood there and took charge. To left of me the right people, were busy with our 66 sisters. Theso ladies were part of the staff of a new -hospital unit. Safely they were put into their boats, safely .lowered, and safely rowed away from us. We cheered tbem as they left, and they ;cheered back. Then Tommy, lined on deck, struck up a song. He always does in moments of emotion." Finally, the writer's boat was filled with fifty men, including some membors of the crew. They rowed awaj from the ship none too soon, for there was a flash and an explosion as a second torpedo struck her. 'And then, he proceeds: 1 "

The Last of the Lfner. "There followed nest the most dramatic period of that spectacle. So far the great ship had stood firm, as if anchored.. Wo noticed now that the had a definite list to starboard. The angle grew steeper, and then suddenly her bow dropped, her stern lifted, and next Bhe slid to the bottom like a' diver. It was a though a living thing had disappeared beneath the waves. We watched her open-mouth-ed, a tightness at our hearts. We missed the comfort of . her presence, we felt the tragedy 'of her surrender; In her death and engulfment there waa . something more than human. So might a city built by countless hands and quick with life pass suddenly away. . . . We turned now a more searching eye upon the strange shores that lay some five miles distant, and upon the strange city whose central monuments fixed our attention. What kind of people lived there, and would they send us help? we seemedto ask. But already the latter question was answered. A small steamer, apparently a tug, was' evidently the forerunner of rescue.

"You must picture us now 011 an empty sea, for with the going of our ship, although some thousands of lis were floating, struggling, and, alasl drowning, we madt)_ no great impression on that immensity. •We felt very small, and we felt very much alone and neglected."

They discovered that the boat was leaking badly, and that they had 110 rudder to keep her head up to the heavy seas that dashed over them. The water rose above their waists. The bailer had been lost overboard, but another was improvised by knock-ing-in the head of a water-cask. During this critical period the writer made a closer study of his companions, of wbom he writes Character In the Boats. "I had never seen any of them before, so 1 did not know their names or anything about 'them. . Mentally I described the more marked characters to myself, and even went the length of inventing niok-names. There was the Pop-eye Man, for instance. He was a sailor, or, lather, a member of the crew. He was so terrified that lie shouted wild things at us, and his eyes seemed to pop out of his head. ,What ho yelled I neither knew nor cared. He made mo realise that there'are such things as cowards, end once or twice I caught myself wondering what'it was that made him. so afraid of death, so tenacious of life. Was it wife, children, or beer that so unmanned him ? He had a, beery look and rather a brutal, bullying manner. Ho is saved, and is now probably lying hard about his confonrided heroism. That type usually does. "Then there was the Coconut-Shy Man. At village and other English festivals there are men who keep up a continual shouting in a hoarso and blatant voice. They must have lungs of brass, and as often as not they are attached to a coconut-shy outfit. I had one such man on board. He was probably shouting to keep bis own courage up as much as ours.

"'Three mora strokes to tho shore, hoys I' he yelled. 'Three more strokes! Now al) tocetherl' And so on and so on. Ho had a voice like a bull, and made the welkin ring with encouragement and exhortation. Of course, not three nor threo thousand strokes would havo taken us to the shore. Tho sea, tho wind, and our own,dead woiglit were all against us. But still tho Coconut-Shy Man, whether it was rowing or hailing, worked liko a man end encouraged others to work, and was a good fellow. "There was the Man Who Nodded. Ho was a sailor in the stern. I faced him. and whenever I ordered tho boat's head to bo kept on to tho waves he nodded approval and seemed satisfied. "Beside me all the timo was a bov of 18; fresh from homo, a private, in tho Royal Army Medical Corps. He nestled hesido mo with largo, trustful eyes, liko . a little dog, and whatever 1 asked him to do bo did quickly and implicitly. If I have any touch of vanity it must have ken tickled by that dear lad's faith in me. , "A fair young fellow, probably a shop assistant before tho war, and, I believe a corporal or sorgennt in tho Army, Service Corps, worked well and always with intelligence and coolness. And thoro was a plucky middle-aged man in the stern who simply oozed calmness and confidence, though he onco had me puzzled by telling mri that tho rudder was there and working as it should do. Ho admitted later that ho said this to choor up the wav.orers. "Now as to tho waverers. They were mostly boys, and I think all of them were seasiok. Ono or _ two whom I urged to row or hail replied, 'I'm done, sir.' And' done they were, I suppose, poor beggars!

Psychology of Closa Death. "I, too, though smiling in the face of events, ,had a lengtny period of

dcubfc, and even went so far as to loosen my soaked boots as a precaution. It was when tbo water threatened to sink or overturn us. I remom- j ber a few of the thoughts that crisscrossed with, inoro practical reflections. Chief and foremost was the recogni- ] tion that I had had forfcy-soveu years of life and a d- —n good time, all things considered. Friendship, love, books, pictures, music I had had, and I had seen a good deal of the world and its adventures. And as I thought of tbeso it occurred to mo that I had done pretty well everything except die, and that, after all, Barrio was right. In 'Peter Pan,' you will remember, he makes his hero say that death is the greatest adventure of tho lot. I probably misquote him, but that is tile gist of it. Now, I had always thought that 6entiment unreal and a pieco of claptrap. And so it was in a way. When I heard it I was fresh from the Russian revolution of 1905-1906. The audience who applauded struck mo. as about the last people in tho world who wanted to die • in fact, Londou, after) Russia, seemed a place where people wanted to go to offices, make money, and live forever, and Barrio's audience more so than any of them. But as I stood in the boat and.contemplated the possibility and even probability of this laet great adventure, it occurred to rue that Peter Pan was right—exactly right."