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THE CHANNEL CROSSING BY NIGHT

FULL SPEED THROUGH THE DARKNESS.

(."By Regimental 31.0., in the 'Sydney Morning Herald.*] A kilted throng that huddled on the hurricane deck, erect, lying, sitting, occupying a given space in the true military sense: all vigilant and expectant, as oE great events, on this the night of all nights! They will soon make the swift, dark crossing to the France of overseas. The I small things of

life become exalted; the shriek of a distant siren speaks of a baneful destroyer or some indefinite, sinister form that cleaves the spray-topped Channel waves, doing the silent patrol, the awesome sentiuel work of fog-ridden hours—the plain duty of the officer on the bridge, the seaman on the fo'c'sle! And thus old England sleeps secure in her island domain! So, too, the sudden awakening throb of internal engines, the sense of movement away from shadowy lights awakens the soul of the battalion. "We're off!" and the vibrant command of a subaltern coming deep through the dark has an electrical effect; pipes and cigarettes have ceased to glow. -- Out on the broad, covered deck, along the smooth laffrail, the adventurers are massed, wrapped in swaddling greatcoats and mufflers fragrant of home. The Glengarry ribbons whisk and flap in the bellowing wind, and the "stern profiles beneath them beam with the ardor of this the dream of

lays long past, of -weeks drawn out by rigi< routine, of months laborious yet eweeb witl the flavor of something done. Their tongue; are unloosed, the joy of living surges hot ir cheir breasts, they may jet do deeds for tlu Mother Land, deeds that Trill inscribe glowing traits on the scroll of Empire. But no one can speak his joy nor interpret the inner fires. Speculation breaks out on the dim and distant nights, and becomes tiproarious in the discomfiture of the fool of the-platoon. The harbor mouth is cleared and the grey, transport is loosed on the turmoil of shifting seas. An unseen hand is guiding surely, steadily, with no faltering. The bow sways and pluuges in a seething swish that breaks m a long frank wash to the foain astern. The air is tense with happening, when from the blackness ahead is disengaged a low destroyer blinking an eye- at the unseen pilot. And the race goes on at a maddening rate with that volatile escort leading her unerring way. A great- burst of speed, mid the deck*watchers see her sinuous form flit to starboard, at the ca.ll of some! mute signal, to ward off some unknown peril! And when their eyes tire to mark the furious fling of the spindrift, they range to the of the close horizon;' the swinging lights of the mine-sweepers grappling in the heaving troughs, the bold glare of a searchlight shooting off Dover's cliffs, the masthead lanterns creeping dim by the Calais, shore, the coughing hum of the wild sou'-wester, shuddering between the shrouds across the dark waste of lonely waters foaming livid through the night. A lone, cold world! The young sailor, fresh from home delights, has felt its icy terrors, and stiffened his senses with a manly joy to hear the sobbing drone of the Channel bells. Tor the strong another world to conquer: for the weak a school of duress that will kill or cure! The soldier, , smig on a transport, looks out, a spectator, from his station on solid deck, and wonders at the iron vigilance of his brother seaman: the seaman, swaggering in dripping oilskins, snorts through rime-filled whiskers his disdain at a "capful o' wind," and envies this Tommy, that Jock, off to the trenches. Thus each has done his duty, and is modest withal, as England expected. The lights of France have twinkled from ' the low hills, and the crossing is v left behind in the battalion's memory. For a bright radiance has burst from the shore; the destroyer blinking farewell, has whisked far astern to her watery trail; and the transport, shining a i steely lustre, is coursing over an enchanted field lit by beaming searchlight. What an effulgent .-welcome to ihe new land. There is surely magic in this world of overseas! We ease speed, and sway back and forth on the inshore swell -gliding noiselessly between the training walls holding forth their solid arms to the deep, into the glassy haven of Boulogne, where trawler, fishing ketch, and hospital ship sleep secure, and the front of,an oitl- . world town rises pallid around the harbor.

Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/MIC19170622.2.5

Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume XLV, Issue XLV, 22 June 1917, Page 1

Word count
Tapeke kupu
750

THE CHANNEL CROSSING BY NIGHT Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume XLV, Issue XLV, 22 June 1917, Page 1

THE CHANNEL CROSSING BY NIGHT Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume XLV, Issue XLV, 22 June 1917, Page 1

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