ON CONVOY

Dominion, Volume 11, Issue 224, 10 June 1918, Page 6

ON CONVOY

THE MIDDLE, WATCH. (By "Jackstaff/" in: the "Daily Mail.") "Number One" was keeping the middle watch (midnight until 4 a.m.), half a'galeMvfts blowing, with the iiight as dark as black cats. Turning momentarily from the bridge screens to rest his overstrained eyes the young officer stepped clear of the charthouse and glanced along the boat deck. By peering intently aft he could just make out the dim figures of the look-outs there. An occasional shifting of position on their part showed him they were alert. Reassured on this point he.strode across the reeling bridge, exchanging low-spoken words with the men flattened close against tho screens at either end of it.

"Do you*6Ce the convoy?" ho asked one of them.

"Just, the loom of the wing ship, sir." "Very good; report to me if you lose touch with them. We'll close in a bit. Helm; —points starboard." "Starboard it is, sir," answered the quartermaster, repeating tho order as ho put the wheel over.

"Number One," or the "First Lieutenant," to give him hie official title, was not r,eally a lieutenant at all. Only tho single gold strip© of the "sub" adorned his sleeve. In ago ho was a mere boy, barely out of a public school when tho war' began. ißut the Navy had caught him and put a man's soul into the youthful body as it has into that of many another boy during the past four years. Here no was responsible for guiding tho ship and all aboard her safely through a night-enshrouded sea thickly bestudded with dangers. So far from tho burden weighing hearilv on his shoulders, he did not regard it as a burden at all. His thoughts at the moment were paitly occupied with the cup of hot cocoa that was nearly due, partly with pleasurable anticipations of a good long "caulk" aftor his turn "above" had ended.

In the charthouse tha captain, stretched upon a thwartwise bunk, was sleeping with one eye wide open and the other only half closed. Ho would bo on the bridge instantly if emergency came. And "Number One" could call him whenever he pleased, though he knew better than to arouse the "Old Man" unnecessarily. The intuition that sailors are ondowed with—a sort of second sight in matters of navigation—would warn tho captain if he were needed outside. For the rest, it was always better for the officer on watch so to handle the ship that this intuitive perception reported "All's well" to tho skipper. . ,• This meant constant watchfulness and not too much fiddling -with the helm. Bight course had to be kept, "touch" with the convoy maintained, . straying vessels "whipped in," and many other matters attended to. ' _ , It was "Number One's" business to do these things. Because he had shown capacity for doing them efficiently he was trusted with his job. If he made a mess of it he made a mess of his servico career at the same time. The Navy has a short way with incompetents, as "Number One" knew quite well. So lie kept 1-is cyss well skinned, for deep down in his heart was the desire for "a good report" which would enable him to obtain a transfer to the submarine branch. Possibly a girl came into his visions of tlw future. Usually this is tho case with a sailor. Anyway, "Number One" carried steadily along with his "watch," answering the wireless messages, turning on the signalman to flash short, concisely-worded messages to consorts now and again, and attending to the dozen and one other things that lcept him busy. And when his "relief" scrambled yawningly up the bridge laddorK, "Number One" turned the ship over to him, bade him a cheery "Good morning," .and dived merrily down the hatchway to his cosy cabin below.