My "Little Bit"

We all know that in Bible history there was a certain Goliath of Gath. His height was six cubits and a span,—that is to say, about ten feet. He had a helmet of brass, and he wore a coat of mail weighing five thousand shekels of brass,—about a hundred and fifty-six pounds. He had brass on his legs, and brass between his shoulders, and his spear’s head weighed six hundred shekels of iron. Taking him altogether he was a fine prototype of the Hun, who is similarly a monster of Brass, Iron, and Brag. And then DAVID, “ruddy and of a fair countenance,” drew near to this Brazen Being, and smote him with a stone in the middle of his forehead, so that he “fell with his face to earth.”

And this is just what our “David” has done. A matter for national rejoicing! Especially for “they that go down to the sea in ships and do business in great waters” do we rejoice that the “David” of the Grand Fleet,—high-souled, brave-hearted DAVID BEATTY,—commands the Sling and Stone of our straight-hitting Naval Power! What better man than he to take the place of Nelson?—to carry out with zealous ardour Nelson’s one wish, Nelson’s last desire that “every man should do his duty!” Look at the strong face,—the keen, clear “eyes of the sea,”—the resolute yet tender lines of the mouth,—the whole bearing of this bold and dauntless commander, and then think of the lofty and devout spirit of him expressed in his recent “message” to the nation:—

“Until religious revival takes place at home, just so long will the war continue. When England can look out on the future with humbler eyes and a prayer on her lips, then we can begin to count the days towards the end!”

There’s a challenge for you! Flung out unhesitatingly and manfully in the very face of a swarm of atheists in Church and State, who for the past decade at least, have copied Germany in mockery of all things holy and divine, and have spread their “literary” blasphemies throughout the land, assisted in their work of “tearing down” Christianity by a corrupt section of society and a decadent Press! It’s a challenge we are bound to hear,—given in simple, manly words which echo the high faith of him who won the Battle of Trafalgar, and who, on the eve of the fight retired to his cabin and wrote this prayer:—

“May the great God Whom I worship grant to my country, and for the benefit of Europe in general, a great and glorious victory; and may no misconduct in any one tarnish it; and may humanity after victory be the predominant feature in the British Fleet! For myself individually, I commit my life to Him that made me, and may His blessing alight on my endeavours for serving my country faithfully! To Him I resign myself and the just cause which is entrusted to me to defend. Amen!”

Without such faith, such humility and resignation as this, few great victories are won. Even pagan heroes sought the favour of their gods in every high enterprise; but in our time the nations of Europe, assuming an “advancement” beyond either pagans or Christians, have been seeking to ignore the Higher Power Almighty altogether; with what dire results is now witnessed by desolated peoples drenched in blood and tears! Of Nelson it is written: “All men knew that his heart was as humane as it was fearless, and that there was not in his nature an alloy of selfishness or cupidity, but that he served his country with a perfect and entire devotion, therefore they loved him as truly and fervently as he loved England.”

Cannot each word of this be said with equal truth of David Beatty? Every man of the Fleet will answer “Yes!” And every man of the Fleet will endeavour to be a copy of him in all the grand essentials of honour and duty. And here comes in a little story.

Only the other day I received a letter from a lad on board one of our mine-sweepers,—a stranger to me personally, but one who evidently felt sure (as he might) of my interest in his difficult and dangerous work. In that letter he writes:—

“I am in his Majesty’s Navy and I am just twenty. My last ship was Admiral Beatty’s Flagship, the Lion, on board of which I had the honour of being a little over three years under an Admiral whose qualities are magnificent. I want to say this, because people are apt to take doubtful views through articles in the papers about our truly Great Leaders.”

Yes,—“articles in the papers,” written by caterers for mere sensational gabble, are apt to influence the majority of fools; and “doubtful views” are generally entertained by persons who in themselves are more than doubtful. But if a boy of twenty, after serving for three years under Admiral Beatty, can write, “His qualities are magnificent,” it means a very great deal. Young fellows of that age are not always easily impressed by their superiors,—they are more critical than complimentary; and the rules of naval discipline go hard with them unless administered by a kindly as well as just hand. “Eyes of the Sea” must be everywhere vigilant,—watching men’s minds equally with God’s stormy waters,—ever on the look-out for enemies of the soul as well as enemies of the country; and so well and truly do they watch,—so faithfully have they always watched, that sailors’ eyes have grown to be quite different to all other eyes in the world! We know them at once by their far-off steady gaze—by their look of mingled pathos, persistency, and cheerfulness,—by the sparkle of the waves and the light of stars which are somehow commingled in their keen glances, suggesting the wonderful power and indomitable energy of “one life, one flag, one fleet!” The strong lines of Alfred Tennyson, the last worthy Laureate of Great Britain, may well ring in our ears to-day:—

But Great Britain “is no longer an island,” we hear. Who says so? Merely brazen Goliath with his big mouth of Brag. “No longer safe from invasion.” Who says so? Goliath again! Our “supremacy of the seas is gone for ever!” Good old Goliath! Submarines and Zeppelins are to bring the invaders along as surely as weeds swept on the sand by the tide! Easier said than done! What says the old song?

True enough, we have to deal nowadays with pirates,—not true naval men,—with burglars, not warriors,—and inhumanity being the characteristic of all such folk, the international laws of Imperial Britain and her Allies, regulating the conduct of warfare, have no hold on them. We are not at war with an educated people,—for they have shown themselves openly as savages. But though the wholesome air may be poisoned by the breath of the Hun, and murderous bombs may be flung through those spaces of heavenly blue, once most blessedly free from the presence of humanity, we have already proved equal to tackling the Zeppelins, and shall tackle them yet again. And we shall “manage” the submarines in a way of our own, if only the garrulous and indiscreet Press will leave us alone to do it, and refrain from giving elaborate details of all our newest machinery in their columns for the benefit and instruction of the enemy! We would not “tell it in Gath” to Goliath, how many of his under-sea “sneak” boats have already been “bagged” by our sportive captains—that’s a “secret of the Admiralty.” But it is just possible that even Huns may be weary of the certainty of death by fire in the air, and death by “ramming down” to the bottom of the sea! Neither way is a pleasant exit from the world of living men. Both are the result of inventive science put to wrong uses,—namely to injure, instead of to benefit. The old ways of combat were more open and honourable. Better the sword and shield than the gas and the bomb,—better the fair fight between ships confronting each other boldly on the ocean, than the floating mine or the sly torpedo, sneaking like a low thief beneath the waves. There is something cowardly about the new “scientific” weapons of war,—they manifest the assassin’s spirit rather than that of the honest soldier. The long-distance gun, the poison-vapours, the “dum-dum” bullet—all show the inventive faculty of murderers in training, not the sane education of civilised and honourable men. There has been much talk of “advancement”—but if human progress takes the form of “scientific” torture, barbarity, and outrage on our fellow-creatures, it is not progress at all, but terrible retrogression and back-sliding which must be checked before it is too late. No man can do better than see to it that what has been written of Nelson may also be said of him:—

“All men knew that his heart was as humane as it was fearless.”

We say this, think this, and feel this of David Beatty,—and by the Almighty’s grace and power, we want to say, think, and feel the same of every man and boy under his command! And so the Fleet will be as it always has been,—the star of victory in the crown of Empire. On the memorable occasion when Mr. Lloyd George rose to make his first address to the House as Prime Minister, Admiral Sir H. Meux, Member for Portsmouth, asked:—

“Will the right hon. gentleman say a word about the Navy before he sits down?”

And the new Premier replied at once:—

“My hon. and gallant friend knows that the achievements of the Navy speak for themselves. I do not think that anything I can say would be in the least adequate to recognise the enormous and incalculable services that the great Navy of Britain has rendered, not merely to the Empire but to the whole Allied cause. Not merely would victory have been impossible, but the war could not have been kept on for two and a half years had it not been for the services of the Navy.”

These words called forth ringing cheers. For it is We,—we Britons—who sweep the seas! It is our heritage to do so. A rumour is about that one of the “peace terms” foolishly proposed by Germany is, that we should “abandon our supremacy of the sea!” As well ask the sun to abandon its supremacy of the skies! It would be an evil day for all nations, not only our own, when Britannia ceased to rule the waves! Her just, wise laws of freedom and fairness would soon be replaced by ruthless piracy, and there would be no security for any coast. It is a good thing for America and Europe likewise that this

should be the guardian of the girdling ocean, maintaining its highest rights and liberties in the face of all foes. And so may it ever remain!

What stories I could tell, had I the time and space, of heroic deeds “unwritten and unsung” performed by the men of the Fleet, not only in the past, but now!—now, in these actual present days, when great London, plunged to the neck in a flood of gold, poured in for the help, healing, and comfort of our fighting men on land and sea, is striving, like a giant caught in a net, to disentangle its sacred duties from its selfish pleasures,—trying to realise in its vague way that War is really War! Of “Tommy” one hears much; but of “Jack Tar” less,—though they are close comrades in the one spirit of devotion to duty, and each has his own burden of difficulties to bear,—his own sphere of danger to surmount and to master. The story of brave Jack Cornwell thrilled every heart,—putting well into the shade the similar exploit of “Casabianca,” of whom, when we were children, we all learned, in the verse of Felicia Hemans:—

and

Only there is no poet among us worthy of the name to “sing the memory” of Jack Cornwell, thanks to the swarm of atheists, pessimists, decadents, and anti-idealists who have been encouraged to darken and disgrace the literary annals of Great Britain. “Casabianca” was a boy about thirteen years of age, son to the Admiral of the Orient, who remained at his post in the Battle of the Nile after the ship had taken fire and all the guns had been abandoned, and perished in the explosion of the vessel when the flames had reached the powder. All who have read the enthralling pages of our sea-history will remember that the Orient was the French Admiral’s ship, carrying a hundred and twenty guns, and that he himself died on her quarter-deck, his little son remaining at the post where his father had placed him, all unconscious of his father’s end. “Soon after nine o’clock,” says the historian, “the Orient appeared in flames, which spread with astonishing rapidity, and by their prodigious light the situation of the hostile fleets could be seen at a distance of fifteen miles. The Orient’s crew, however, continued to fire from her lower-deck to the very last, and at about ten o’clock she blew up with an explosion which was felt by every vessel to the bottom of its keel. To this succeeded a silence not less awful,—the sanguinary conflict ceased on both sides,—and the first sound that broke that portentous stillness was the splash of shattered masts and yards falling into the sea.”

So “Casabianca” perished gallantly—but not more gallantly than Jack Cornwell. Both boys, the one French, the other English, were made of the same heroic stuff that gives worth and honour to the nations that breed it.

Very quaint and poetic it is to read at this time of day, the picturesque record of William Camden, Clarencieux King-at-Arms to Queen Elizabeth, concerning the entrance of the Spanish Armada into English waters:—

“The next day the English discovered the Spanish Fleet with lofty Turrets, like Castles, in front like a Half-Moon, the wings thereof spreading out about the length of seven miles, sailing very slowly, though with full sails, the Winds being, as it were, tired with carrying them, and the Ocean groaning under the weight of them.... But so far was it from terrifying the seacoasts with its name of ‘Invincible’ or with its dreadful Show, that the young Gentry of England, with incredible Cheerfulness and Alacrity (leaving their parents, children, wives, and friends at home) out of their hearty Love to their Country, hired ships from all parts at their own private charges and joined with the Fleet in great numbers.”

I think we, in our present days, have had the word “invincible” thrown at us a good deal from the braggart mouth of the “Hun”—but “so far from terrifying us”—it has had the same effect on our manhood as it had in Tudor days so far as “incredible Cheerfulness and Alacrity” are concerned! And Queen Elizabeth apparently found a prototype of Nelson and David Beatty, for, says Camden, “The command of the whole Fleet she gave to Charles, Lord Howard of Effingham, Lord Admiral of England, of whose fortunate Conduct she had a very great Persuasion, and whom she knew by his moderate and noble carriage, to be skilful in sea-matters, wary and provident, valiant and courageous, industrious and active, and of great authority and esteem among the seamen of her Navy. Drake, whom she appointed Vice-Admiral, joined with him.”

Queen Bess evidently knew how to select the best men! And we may justly claim to have kept up the breed. For there is not a word written of Admiral Lord Howard in those old days that cannot be equally written now of Admiral Sir David Beatty. Every man of the Fleet knows it; and is proud and glad to serve under his command. “Skilful in sea-matters, wary and provident, valiant and courageous, industrious and active, and of great authority and esteem among the seamen of the Navy!”

And we shall do well to remember that on the outbreak of war, the country was assured that the Mercantile Marine accepted the risks incurred in maintaining the supplies of food so indispensable to the existence of the people, and in ensuring a path of safety for commerce, and the transport of troops and war material. And British shipmasters, officers, and seamen alike expressed their resolve to keep the seas open at all costs. The result of this inflexible determination is that throughout continuous struggle, exposed to daily and nightly peril from mine and submarine, British ships continue to arrive in British ports and sail again with a splendid disregard of all the difficulties and dangers which beset them in maintaining the overseas trade of the nation. It is time such priceless valour was more absolutely defended and held dear by the Empire which owes it so much. Our merchantmen should be armed. The expenditure would be less than the loss of heroic lives! Merchant seamen should be given every possible means of protecting their own existence and securing the safety of their ships and cargoes. Their foes are ruthless,—they should be given ample means of retaliation and defence. For—

And no man of any class needs a “dauntless spirit” more. Courage alone makes him what he is. For though I love the sea with an intense love beyond all world-expression, I know how cruel it can be, although so beautiful—and while I rejoice and revel in the splendour of terrific waves breaking in pillars of foam up against rocks a hundred or more feet high, I cannot but hear in my soul the wild and despairing cries of drowning men, and the noise of breaking ships—I see the horror of drifting dead forms and faces swirling on the blackness of the deep, and with my whole heart I join in the prayer:—

“God, Who alone spreadest out the heavens, and rulest the raging of the sea, be pleased to receive into Thy most gracious protection the persons of Thy servants and the Fleet in which they serve! Preserve them from the dangers of the sea and from the violence of the enemy, that they may be a safeguard!—and that the inhabitants of our Island may in peace and quietness serve Thee, our God!”

Amen, and many times Amen! And it is possible that Admiral Sir David Beatty, like his great prototype, Admiral Lord Nelson, may have sent the same message to the Fleet on the day of the German surrender which Nelson sent after the Battle of the Nile, thus:—

“Almighty God having blessed his Majesty’s arms with Victory, the Admiral intends returning Public Thanksgiving for the same at two o’clock this day, and he recommends every ship doing the same as soon as convenient.—Signed, Horatio Nelson. August 2, 1798.”

A similar devotional spirit inspires our “David” of the sea, when he says that England must look to the future “with a prayer on her lips.” This great War, the greatest in all history, will, with all its wickedness and bloodshed, prove a blessing, if the cloud of Atheism which has swept over us through perverted and decadent German ideals, is rolled away,—leaving a clear and wholesome heaven of faith and hope for a nation brought back to God through humility, self-sacrifice and splendid heroism!