Trooper to the Southern Cross

by Angela Mackail Thirkell

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ said Mrs Jerry. ‘He is raging round the ship after the man that pinched his suitcase of souvenirs. I don’t suppose he’ll ever see it again, but if he does that man will need new teeth and probably a new face. I don’t mind much myself, because a ton of old German helmets and revolvers and shell cases aren’t going to brighten up the home, but I’m sorry for Jerry, and I’m sorry for all of us till it is found.’

  Just then Jerry walked in.

  ‘Well, old son,’ I said, ‘have the brutal and licentious soldiery been going through your stuff?’

  ‘My God, I’ll go through that fellow when I catch him,’ said Jerry. ‘There was a revolver I got off a Boche at Pozieres that I wouldn’t lose for anything, and a bit of Richthofen’s aeroplane I got when he came down. I was up having a yarn with the Lewis gunners then and saw every darned thing that happened, and now those lousy blighters have pinched it.’

  Of course the kiddies yelled out ‘lousy blighters!’ from the other cabin where they slept with the nurse, and Mrs Jerry told the old man off pretty sharply.

  ‘See here, Jerry,’ I said, wishing to change the subject, for if there is one thing I hate it is to be in a family quarrel, one looks such a fool, ‘what about these prisoners?’

  ‘Well, what have you heard?’ he asked.

  ‘A trainload came down yesterday, by what my steward tells me. They’re down below in the cells with a guard.’ Jerry was going to say something, but he got a look from Mrs Jerry that made him shut up.

  ‘Well, all I can say is,’ said Mrs Jerry, ‘there “would” be prisoners on this boat, and I shall be surprised if we ever reach Adelaide. Get out, both of you. I’ve got to finish unpacking and get the children to sleep. When do we start?’

  But neither of us knew, and as Mrs Jerry was evidently working up for a storm, we just slipped silently away.

  ‘This doesn’t seem too bright,’ said Jerry. ‘Come and have a drink.’

  ‘Lemonade or ginger beer?’ I asked in my quiet sarcastic way.

  Then Jerry said everything he had been bottling up since Mrs Jerry gave him that look. My oath, there wasn’t much he didn’t say about dry ships and soft drinks. So we went along to see if we could raise something in the surgery, and in the companion way Catchpole ran into us.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said, ‘but Captain Sievers from Headquarters is in your cabin and would like to have a word with you.’

  ‘Come on, Jerry,’ I said, ‘we’ll put old Larry through it and get the dinkum oil on what’s happening.

  When we got to the cabin, there was Celia sitting up in her berth with her pretty hair in two plaits, looking like a kid of seventeen, and there was old Larry on the couch under the porthole, looking a bit sheepish. I introduced the old Colonel, and Celia apologized for receiving company in bed, and then we got down to brass tacks.

  ‘Now, you old thief,’ I said to Larry, ‘what’s all this about prisoners? This is a dirty deal you’re giving us.’

  Larry looked the picture of misery.

  ‘When I suggested you might go on this boat with Mrs Bowen,’ he said, ‘I hadn’t an idea they were going to take prisoners as well as troops.’

  So I got some whisky out of my medical stores and we all had one in the tooth-glass.

  ‘Here’s fun,’ said Jerry. ‘Now tell us what the game is.’

  ‘Well,’ said Larry, ‘H.Q. has unloaded a whole gang of prisoners on us, and I don’t suppose there are a worse set of fellows in the whole A.I.F. than this little lot. Some were in for murder and some for theft and some for deserting, and some for other things,’ and Larry looked so meaningly at Celia that we all felt quite uncomfortable. ‘They’re just about the scum of the A.I.F., and lots of them have never seen a day’s active service. They joined up as late as they could and saw to it that they spent their time in gaol, finding it a pleasanter proposition than France.’

  ‘I suppose they’re locked up, with a guard,’ said Jerry.

  ‘The murderers are,’ said Larry. ‘Some of them had their sentences commuted when they got on board. The really bad hats are in the cells, and I must say I’m sorry for them. It will be like the Black Hole of Calcutta when you get to the Red Sea.’

  ‘Their troubles,’ said the old Colonel, ‘and I’ve handled troops before now.’

  ‘Yes, Colonel,’ said Larry, ‘but you had good officers under you and it was active service. I don’t want to be a wowser, but you will want to keep your eyes open. I won’t say anything against Picking or his adjutant, but I’d as soon have a couple of school in arms on the job.’

  ‘It’s a bit of a nark,’ I said, thoughtfully thinking it all over.

  ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ said Larry, and he got up and shook hands with Celia.

  ‘I must be buzzing off,’ he said. ‘Good-bye, Mrs Bowen, and I wish I’d made you go on the “Ormolu”.’

  Wc took him down to the surgery and got some medical comforts from Lyon, who was just checking them over. Shortly afterwards old Dr Bird took Lyon’s key away, and only he arid I had keys to the drug cupboard. It seemed better under the circumstances. Lyon wasn’t any too pleasant about it, but the old doctor wasn’t taking any insolence, and he put the fear of the Lord into Lyon, so that he never put his face into the surgery again. I heard of him afterwards, up Townsville way, and he got into trouble with the police over a woman that died.

  So we saw Larry over the side and I heard the anchor being hauled up, so I turned in. Celia was asleep, and I was glad we were on the lower deck, as the deck cabins were very noisy.

  4 – Trouble in the Bath

  The events of the next few days I shall not be able to describe very well, for we ran into rough weather at once. Celia was not ill, but as the sea was very high and all the doors and windows of the lounge had to be kept shut and no one could get about on deck, she found it more pleasant to stay in the cabin and read, while Catchpole looked after her. There was a stewardess, but she was like most of them, lazy and insolent, not exactly rude, but what in the army is called ‘dumb insolence’, and Celia fired her the first day and told Catchpole he could take on the job. He and Celia got on wonderfully well. Indeed she was quite a turn for getting on with people and that is partly why she has been such a social success in Sydney, being a member of the Rose Bay Golf Club and going to various other social functions, just as if she had been a Sydney girl. I managed to get about because it was my job, but I felt like a sick cat half the time. Colonel Picking was down, and half the officers and more than half the diggers, and I must say the rest worked like navvies at looking after the sick ones. Jerry was as fit as a fiddle and practically running the ship. Mrs Jerry was pretty bad and so was the nurse, but the two kids enjoyed it all thoroughly and came down to all meals. Indeed they got a bit above themselves, as you will hear later in the matter of the baths.

  The second day out I rang for Catchpole to get my bath, for I hadn’t been able to face the bathroom on the first day. No one answered, so I went along to the bath myself. I like a cold plunge in the morning. Some people like a hot bath, but I always feel twice as fresh if I get under the shower. Sometimes I have a good hot bath first and lie soaking in it, and then finish up with the shower. One thing I do miss in your English bathrooms is a shower. In Sydney every house that has a bath at all has a shower. There wasn’t a shower in this bath, so I turned on the cold water. Steam began to arise from the bath. It was boiling salt water. I cursed a bit and let the water off and tried the hot tap for a change, and nothing came out at all. I couldn’t make it out, so I turned the cold tap on again and ran a little boiling water into the bath. Then I shaved, and by that time the water was just cool enough to stand in it and give myself a kind of sponge down. I couldn’t raise Catchpole anywhere, so I went to the saloon as soon as I was dressed, and got a cup of tea and some toast and some eggs and bacon which was about all I felt fit for. The ship was rolling like anything and the line of the horizon through the portholes nearly fini
shed me off, so I quickly got up on deck and as I was staggering along, clinging to the rail, I met one of the ship’s engineers. He looked a bit worried. I introduced myself and he said he was the chief engineer. We took a bit of a constitutional round the sheltered part of the deck.

  ‘Queer kind of hot water supply you have on this boat,’ I said.

  ‘I know it,’ he said — of course he was a Scotsman though his name was Schultz. ‘This ship is going to turn my remaining hairs grey. I’ll tell you Major, exactly what has occurred.’

  By this time we were opposite the smoke-room door, and out came Jerry, just looking round for someone to strafe. As soon as he saw old Schultz he began to throw fits. I cannot repeat all he said, but it was a treat.

  ‘See here,’ he said, shouting with rage, ‘what kind of a bastard of a ship do you call this, Mr Schultz? I go to your bloody lavatory and when I pull the plug out comes a lot of scalding steam that fairly takes the skin off.’

  Well, luckily, he didn’t finish what he was going to say, because a whole crowd of diggers had come up to hear the row, and when they heard about the hot steam they laughed so they couldn’t stop. People say the digger is not appreciative of humour, but he has a wonderful sense of what is really funny and will appreciate a joke wonderfully. No one who had heard that crowd could ever say they hadn’t a sense of humour. I must say I couldn’t help laughing too, and even old Schultz raised a smile. Then some of the diggers began to sing ‘Have you seen the Colonel?’ and I leave you to guess what kind of words they put to it. Poor old Jerry was getting angrier every minute, till Schultz said: ‘Come away to my cabin, the pair of ye,’ so we went along to his cabin and he told us the tale.

  It seems that this ‘Rudolstadt’ used to do the South Atlantic run from Hamburg before the War. After the Armistice the Germans had to hand her over to the British, but before they left her the engineers had connected every pipe up wrong. Hot was cold, cold was waste, waste was boiling, you didn’t know where you were.

  ‘We’ve been working on her for three weeks,’ said Schultz, ‘and I thought we had her put to rights, but it would appear that we were in error. This voyage, gentlemen, will be far from comfortable. As for the Colonel’s misfortune, I can only offer my apologies, and I’ll get my men going on the pipes again at once. They Gairmans must have had some verra fine engineers among them. It is a pretty job the way yon pipes are connected.’

  ‘Pretty be damned,’ said Jerry. ‘How would you like?’

  But even Jerry had to laugh.

  ‘Well, I must be getting to my work,’ said Schultz. ‘I misdoubt there’ll be more trouble before long. I can aye tell from the start when we are to have a mischancy voyage.’

  ‘Cheerful sort of bloke,’ said Jerry.

  By the time we reached Gibraltar Schultz had got the pipes right, but you could never rely on them. Poor old Schultz raised hell, but the Germans had done their work very thoroughly. Just then he put his head back into the cabin.

  ‘I may as well tell ye now,’ he said, ‘that we have no refrigerator on board.’ And out he went.

  Jerry and I went out on deck again. I was being sick all that day at intervals, but quite bright in between. The diggers were still standing about on deck laughing, and a couple of sailors were fixing a rope across from the corner of the lounge aft to the ship’s railings, thus roping off the starboard side of the deck.

  ‘What’s that for?’ I asked one of the sailors.

  ‘Men’s side of the deck, sir,’ he said.

  Jerry and I looked at each other.

  ‘I thought this was all first class,’ I said.

  ‘There isn’t much room for the troops, sir,’ said the sailor, ‘and we’ve had orders to rope off this side of the deck for them.’

  ‘Good morning, Colonel; good morning, Doctor,’ said a nasty kind of voice. It was a young officer, the type I very much dislike, with a little black toothbrush moustache and very pleased looking. ‘I’m Anderson,’ he said, ‘Captain Anderson, the Colonel’s adjutant.’

  ‘Well, what the hell have you put all those troops under the cabin windows for?’ asked Jerry.

  ‘The men found they were cramped for space,’ said Anderson in that nasty voice of his. He was a real little counter-jumper, and I could see from the jump he had no guts at all and wouldn’t stay the course, and you will hear more of this at a future time. ‘So they sent up word to the Colonel they wanted some more deck space and he arranged with Captain Spooner, the ship’s captain, that they should have this side of the deck reserved for them.’

  ‘The hell he did,’ said Jerry.

  I knew what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing myself. I could see from that moment onwards what the discipline was going to be. Who ever heard of a C.O. in his senses letting his troops tell him where to allot their quarters? The only other time I’ve ever come across such a thing was when an American squadron visited Sydney one year, and the flagship came to anchor with half the ship’s company yelling up advice to the captain on the bridge, and the marines sat down on guard. Oh, they were a nice lot. Of course the whole thing was a muddle from the beginning. If you carry troops it can only be under strict discipline. I’ve been from Australia to Egypt and back to Australia, and back again to France, all the way round by the Cape, and there isn’t much I don’t know about troop ships. But here was Colonel Picking starting off with giving them whatever they asked for. What it came to was that the officers, their wives, widows, kiddies and whatnots were to have half the promenade deck. The other half of the promenade was reserved — that got me wild, ‘reserved’ — for the diggers. As for the boat deck, it was so small and so full of lifeboats that you could hardly get a chair in. Also you know the way the couples make for the boat deck in the tropics and how they freeze other people out. I admit it was hard on the diggers, and the quarters they had were a disgrace, but one must have discipline. Once the diggers were allowed on the first-class decks it was all up with discipline. No one could stop them coming over the dividing line, and the noise on the starboard side was like Saturday afternoon in the Domain. Singing, talking, scrapping, mouth-organs, concertinas, and always the voice of the men playing house, calling out the numbers in that dull sing-song till it almost got on your nerves.

  Anderson told us the Colonel was calling an officers’ meeting at twelve o’clock.

  ‘I don’t fancy being bossed about by that little pip-squeak,’ I said to Jerry.

  Jerry was so sore about the pipes and the troops that he could hardly do justice to it. In the smoke-room I ran across Jack Howe, the fellow in the infantry I had seen on the tender. He said his wife was a very bad sailor and was pretty sick, so I said I’d go down and see her. I did my best for her, but she was one of those unlucky dames that can’t stand the slightest motion. There was only the one stewardess for that deck and she was pretty busy that morning, so I went in to tell Celia and when she heard there might be another chance of getting in on the stewardess, she got up and went over to little Mrs Howe to see if she could help.

  I went up to the officers’ meeting, but as most of them weren’t there, we didn’t get much done. Colonel Picking presided, but he looked like a drowned kitten. Anderson did most of the talking. Hours of duty for the officers were arranged and tin; usual routine. I didn’t have to go on duty, of course, for I had my own surgery hours, but I knew that Howe or one of the junior officers would be glad of a helping hand occasionally. As for Anderson, I may as well say now that I had no use for him. He hadn’t joined the A.I.F. till 1917, being then twenty-four, and had managed never to see a day’s fighting, but he got his captaincy all right. He was well in with the Horseferry Road lot, and knew how to wangle things for himself well enough, but he hadn’t the first idea how to handle men. He would give an order, and if the men didn’t jump to it he would nag at them like a schoolteacher. Of course they sized him up at once, and sometimes they called him Andy and sometimes Nancy — more preferably the latter. I must say the dig
ger is a wonderful judge of character. Now Jerry was nearly as bald as an egg and had the devil’s temper and would roar them up good and proper, but the men would do anything for him. Many’s the time Anderson got into a fix by giving an order that no one took any notice of, and then he would come to me or Jerry. I could nearly always reason with the boys, and Jerry would curse their heads off in a friendly way, and then they would say ‘Good-oh, Doc’ or ‘Have it your own way, Colonel’, and go off and do it as mild as lambs. One of the first rules in the army is, never give an order unless you are sure it will be carried out. I have seen many an officer come to grief that way.

  Anyway, Picking said there would be another meeting at twelve the day after, and he hoped more officers would be able to attend. So I went back to the cabin, but Celia was gone. The sea was beginning to go down a bit and we could see the coast of Spain or Portugal, so I went in to lunch. I found Celia there. Our seats were together at one of the long tables, at the head of which was Schultz, though he but rarely showed up for meals, for which I don’t blame him, for he came in for a lot of ragging about those pipes. Next to Celia was the Fairchild family, and next to me were Jack Howe and his wife, so we made a nice little party. Opposite us was the C. of E. padre with his wife and two kids, and an old tabby called Miss Johnson travelling alone. How she got on that boat beats me, but I should think she could have travelled all round the world in great safety. And there was a bright little woman called Mrs Dick, but everyone called her Mrs Dicky. No one knew much about her except that she had been on the stage and hadn’t got her husband with her, though she talked of him very affectionately. She was very cheery and kept things alive. The Old Man, Captain Spooner, took quite a liking to her and wanted her to come and sit at his table, but she liked to stay where she was. The Fairchilds and the Howes and ourselves got into the habit of treating all our seats alike, and anyone would drop into any empty chair, so that one never knew who one would be sitting next to or opposite to, which made things a little less monotonous.