The Old Navy

by Daniel P. Mannix

  The next day I received something more pleasant: an invitation to spend the weekend at a country house about twenty miles outside London. It was from one of the girls I hadn’t been supposed to dance with, naturally one of the prettiest at the party.

  I made the trip in a hansom cab and we must have seemed incongruous trotting through the Hampshire lanes. It was expensive but I was rich then, like all bachelor junior officers, much richer than I have ever been again; while in England we were paid in gold sovereigns and nobody had ever heard of such a thing as an income tax.

  The house I visited was very ancient, nearly two hundred years old but in an excellent state of preservation. The grounds were magnificent and I noticed for the first time how much greener the English countryside is than ours; due, I suppose, to the prevalence of rain and fog. We certainly have them beat when it comes to sunshine.

  To my great disappointment, I found I was never to be left alone with my charmer. Wherever we went there was a chaperone. At last I said, rather pompously to the girl’s mother, “In America we feel that a girl can go anywhere with a GENTLEMAN.” She dryly replied, “In England, we DON’T.” Although I found the English girls charming, when they grow older they tend to develop nasty, suspicious minds especially if they have daughters. Anyhow, it was a delightful weekend.

  I got back to Portsmouth barely in time for the official visit of the Prince of Wales (later King George V) to the Kearsarge. All the ships in the harbor and the Channel Fleet at Spithead dressed ship rainbow fashion and fired a Royal Salute as the prince came on board.

  The drums and bugles sounded four ruffles and flourishes and all the American ships hoisted the Royal Standard at the main and fired a salute of twenty-one guns. After lunch, the prince inspected the ship. When he left, the word was passed “Three cheers for his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales.” Then our band played “God Save the King”. Out of courtesy, Admiral Beresford ordered his band to play “The Star Spangled Banner”. They made an awful hash of it (it is far more difficult to play than “God Save the King”).

  We sailed from England on July 12th. All we knew was that we were headed for the Mediterranean where we were to pay some more goodwill visits to Portugal, Greece, and Austria. We were not informed that part of our duties would be to rescue an American from a sheik high in the hills of North Africa.

  Chapter 7

  The Mediterranean and Cuba 1904-1906

  Perdicaris alive or Raisuli dead!

  — Theodore Roosevelt

  What had happened was this:

  Perdicaris, an American citizen of Greek ancestry, had been living in Tangier, the main port of Morocco, when he was kidnapped by the sheik of a small hill tribe, named Raisuli, and held for ransom. The sheik had also kidnapped a British citizen named Varley at the same time. President Roosevelt decided it was necessary to show the world that no American citizen could be mistreated with impunity, so he delivered his famous order, “Perdicaris alive or Raisuli dead!” Our squadron was coaling at Tenerife in the Canaries when we received our orders to proceed to Morocco immediately.

  To show how American feeling was aroused by the Perdicaris incident, I quote the New York Herald of May 29, 1904, page one; the following headlines were displayed in enormous type:

  AMERICAN SHIPS TO JOIN SULTAN IN WAR ON MOROCCAN BANDITS

  TWO FLEETS NOW RACING ON TO TANGIER

  AUDACIOUSLY ASKS US TO GUARANTEE RANSOM

  Three Admirals and ten warships have been ordered to break the power of the brigand who holds Perdicaris captive. The following warships have been ordered to proceed at once to Tangier: South Atlantic Fleet, consisting of Brooklyn (Flagship of Rear Admiral Chadwick), Atlanta, Castine, Marietta. European Squadron, consisting of Olympia (Flagship of Rear Admiral Jewell), Baltimore, Cleveland. The following ships are now at the Azores and may also be sent: Kearsarge (Flagship of Rear Admiral Barker), Alabama and Maine.

  The Cleveland’s landing troops with field gun.

  The State Department today received from Consul Gummers at Tangier the terms demanded by Raisuli, the brigand, for the release of Ion Perdicaris, American, and Cromwell Varley, Englishman. They are: (1) the payment of an enormous sum of money as ransom (the exact amount not specified by the Consul) by the Governors of Fez and Tangier who are personal enemies of Raisuli, (2) the guarantee of the payment by the United States and Britain, (3) immunity for the brigands in a wide district where they may ravish and pillage as they will.

  Secretary Hay and the President, after conferring over the proposals, concurred in the opinion that they were too absurd and impossible to think of granting. They particularly objected to the stipulation that the bandits shall be unmolested in law breaking.

  On the Kearsarge, we are told the admiral has ordered us to capture Raisuli and liberate his captives. This plan has its difficulties, chief among them being the danger that the brigands, if attacked, may take the lives of Perdicaris and Varley, and the problem of how warships can fight bandits entrenched in mountain strongholds.

  The South Atlantic Squadron has already departed. The European Squadron (to which I am attached) arrived at Horta this morning. After coaling we will proceed immediately for Tangier.

  The United States, during its early days, had once before been involved with the countries of North Africa. These nations existed by piracy and our merchant ships were frequently attacked along the Barbary Coast, the cargoes seized and the crews sold as slaves. Then in 1801, President Jefferson sent a squadron to blockade the harbor of Tripoli. One of our frigates, the Philadelphia, ran aground and was captured by the Tripolitans. The Philadelphia was boarded and burned by Lt. Stephen Decatur in what Lord Nelson called “the most daring act of the age”. Later, a small vessel, the Intrepid, was overcome by a large number of the pirates and her commanding officer, Lieutenant Somers, blew her up. All Americans on board were killed, as well as many of the pirates. The war was finally concluded when William Eaton with a force of United States Marines marched on Tripoli and scattered the Bashaw’s forces.

  I admit that I had dreams of emulating Decatur, although I was less eager to duplicate Somers’ feat. But when we arrived in the harbor of Tangier, it quickly became evident that there was nothing we could do. Raisuli was a chief of the Rif tribe and safely hidden away in the Atlas Mountains, a range so high that the ancient Greeks thought they held up the sky. Admiral Chadwick sent the bandit chieftain several furious messages, suggesting that he come down to the shore where we could capture him. Surprisingly enough, he declined to oblige, sending us in turn a brief answer in flowing Arabic script. It was a single sentence and a classic: “Does the lion of the mountains go in swimming in order to fight sharks?”

  He was a picturesque old scoundrel and had a sense of humor as his reply showed.

  The situation was complicated by the fact that the French, who had already taken over Algeria, were now trying to occupy Morocco and didn’t want any trouble with the tribes.

  They were opposed by the Spaniards and the Germans, both of whom had designs on the country themselves while the English supported the French. The Sultan of Morocco was a young man, the son of a Circassian slave girl, and completely in the hands of his Grand Wazir who was prepared to sell out the country to anyone who offered him the biggest bribe. To make matters even more confused, it turned out that Perdicaris wasn’t an American citizen after all; he had been born in the United States but at the time of the Civil War he had repudiated his citizenship and become a Greek national, I suppose to avoid being drafted. He had lived abroad ever since.

  In spite of Roosevelt’s order and the popular outcry, the Navy was helpless. At last a secret arrangement was worked out between us and the French. In return for having the United States recognize France’s “special rights” in Morocco, the French agreed to pay the ransom (using Spanish silver coins as Spain was also involved in the deal). The tw
o prisoners were then promptly released. Of course, the affair was hailed as a “famous victory” for us, the public being allowed to think that Raisuli had surrendered to our threat of force and nothing being said about the ransom having been paid. Naturally, we reimbursed the French afterward.

  The whole business impressed me as being a farce, but it had curiously important repercussions. Germany was furious at having the French established in Morocco and the Kaiser, with his usual flair for the dramatic, sailed for Morocco and made an impressive landing in Tangier. The French minister who had been involved in the transaction was forced to resign. Germany’s action strengthened the Franco-British entente and Germany built up the Triple Alliance. The stage for World War I was set.

  Unconscious of the great events we had helped precipitate, the Kearsarge sailed for Lisbon, Portugal, on another “goodwill” mission. Here we entertained the king, Carlos I, the queen, Marie Amelie, and the queen mother. By now we were able to dress ship, man the rails, and go through the other routine greetings to royalty in our sleep. The king was a big man, perhaps six feet and very fat. Alongside the queen, however, he looked small and insignificant. She must have been at least seven feet tall. She was a good head and shoulders taller than any man present. Afterwards, we had a dance but although the king danced, the queen very wisely didn’t. She would have looked as though she were bouncing a child on her knee.

  King Carlos was obviously a good fellow and so was the crown prince, Louis, duke of Breganza; a plump, cheerful boy. The queen was a gentle and pleasant giantess. Less than five years later, she was to see her husband and son murdered before her eyes by anarchists. I cannot imagine what motivated these people except a desire to achieve fame by killing harmless prominent figures. They also blew the legs off Alexander II, who had just liberated all the serfs in Russia, and they murdered the beautiful Empress Elizabeth of Austria who had never in her whole unhappy life injured anyone. There was an epidemic of these senseless murders for a time. Thank heaven the madness has run its course and we see no more cases of terrorism now.

  In return, the following day we were invited to attend a royal ball at the palace. In addition to the elegant invitation to the ball, we also received an invitation signed by “Rosalina” whose address was “Rua do Ferregial de Baixo 19” in case anyone is interested, although I doubt that the lady still maintains her establishment. In fact, Rosalina sent us five invitations addressed to the Admiral, the Captain, the Wardroom Mess, the Junior Officers’ Mess and the Warrant Officers’ Mess, thereby showing an intimate knowledge of the interior organization of a naval vessel. On each card was printed, “J’ai des bonnes femmes.” I really think Rosalina might have omitted sending one of her cards to the admiral because of his high puritanical principles which had caused me so much trouble.

  At the ball I met a beautiful blonde girl who was the Contessina Luisette di Bruno. The next day I invited her to be my guest on the Kearsarge. She assured me that she had been so carefully brought up that she had never been on a ship before but even so she knew her way around with remarkable skill; for example, in stepping through the watertight bulkhead doors, she never hit either her head or her shins. These doors have very high sills and in stepping through them it is necessary simultaneously to raise the feet and lower the head. It takes practice. I have an idea that the contessina had met every ship in the harbor for some years. Lovely as she was, I preferred a little brunette with the remarkable name of Sophia O’Donnell Pacheco. I asked her how she ever got such a name and she frankly replied, “One of my ancestors was in Wellington’s Army during the Peninsular Campaign.”

  She was a remarkable linguist and not only spoke perfect English and all the Western European languages but amused the group doing “take-offs” of visitors speaking English with a Portuguese accent, Portuguese with an English accent, French with a German accent, and so on. I entirely agreed with an impressionable young midshipman who called her “the most delightful little thing in the world”.

  We went to the opera nearly every evening: Tosca, Rigoletto, Traviata, and one called Os Pescadores de Napoles which I did not know. They were sung in Portuguese and once Sophia rather took me aback by announcing cheerfully “she says she is going to have a baby”. I was glad no one around us spoke English to be shocked by such frankness.

  On the evening of our departure, we were all very sad; we always used to be sad on the eve of every departure. To make matters worse, Sophia and I were trying to get away together but our admiral had seen proper to include a number of old women to act as chaperones. For a time I thought I had solved the difficulty. There was a large open place called “The Drunken Man’s Square” owing to an extraordinary mosaic design built into the paving: zig-zag, rays, curves and Heaven knows what. In the center was an enormous fountain or some such architectural monstrosity. It suddenly dawned on me that if Sophia and I could get on the other side of it, the fountain would hide us so we could slip away. By walking fast, we almost managed to get around it when Bobby Henderson, who had had plenty of the Portuguese wine, noticed us and shouted, “Run, Mannix, run! The chaperones are gaining on you!” This, of course, attracted everyone’s attention and the admiral ordered me back. Otherwise, it was a delightful two weeks.

  Our next stop was Athens, Greece. The great trouble with Athens is that the town is quite a distance from the port, called Piraeus, so you have to take a train back to your ship. Athens is built around a mesa (a flat-topped hill) called the Acropolis which was originally used for defense and is some distance inland. The Parthenon, the Porch of Maidens, and some other famous buildings are there. The Parthenon is missing its famous carved marble frescoes because an Englishman, Lord Elgin, went off with them. They are now in the British Museum. The Greeks have never forgiven him and our hosts spoke of him as a robber.

  We had the usual official calls. King George came on board and we were all presented to him. We didn’t see the queen who, before her marriage, was a Russian grand duchess.

  After a stop at Corfu, we went on to Trieste in the Adriatic for a stay of nearly a month. Not finding Trieste too interesting, I put in an application for two weeks’ leave, intending to go to Vienna, then down the Danube to Budapest, then to Venice and back to Trieste.

  I made an initial mistake: I went to Vienna first and as a result never went anywhere else. I believe it is generally admitted that the Viennese girls are the most beautiful in the world. Looking back after a lapse of nearly fifty years, I sometimes wonder if the girls I saw driving in the Prater and the Ringstrasse were really as ravishing as they seemed to be. Of course, I wasn’t very old but I know one thing. I didn’t only see those girls “through the bottom of a champagne glass” as our grouchy old admiral later claimed.

  I was handicapped at first during my stay in Vienna because I didn’t know anybody and couldn’t speak the language. In fact, I had been warned against anybody who could speak English, especially if the person were of the feminine gender. It meant either that she rated a sleeve full of service stripes or else was a small-time Mata Hari, ready to pick up any “military information” that was floating around loose. Luckily, I ran into several Austrian officers who had come on board the Kearsarge at Trieste to welcome us in the name of the emperor Francis Joseph and they took me around.

  Long afterward, several people have asked me, “Was Vienna really as wonderful as they say?” I can answer unhesitatingly, “It was, only more so.” I suppose some people worked there but I never saw them; everybody seemed intent on having a good time. Years later I heard an expression applied to the Paris cafés: Chacun à sa chacunne. (every fellow has his girl). That applied even more to Vienna; it might have been the city’s motto.

  There was an enormous open-air establishment on the Ringstrasse that was called the Volksgarten; the great Johann Strauss, both of them, used to play there in years gone by. Over the entrance was written, in German, naturally:

  Who
loves not woman, wine and song

  Will be a fool his whole life long.

  The Strauss tradition was maintained; the big orchestra played nothing but waltzes, with an occasional operetta. After your girl and you (I met several girls who could understand my French or at least pretended to) had a bottle or two of champagne not only were you waltzing but the chairs and tables were waltzing too. There were waitresses in smart uniforms, evidently selected for their good looks, each with her name on a little metal badge pinned on her shoulder. They all seemed to end in “zi”: Mitzi, Fritzi, etc. As for the feminine patrons, I hesitate to attempt a description of them; they looked wonderful even before the chairs and tables started waltzing.

  These officers were very proud of their city and of the great art galleries for which it is famous. They insisted on taking me on a tour of the galleries and explaining each picture. There were a number of ladies in the galleries whom I found far more interesting. At last, one officer remarked unhappily, “I show you all de baintings und you look at de frauleins.” Fortunately the galleries closed at five so we could then repair to the cafés.

  The patrons used to go there either in the tram or in carriages, “low-necked hacks”. If you had a girl you took a carriage; if you went stag you traveled on the tram. I remember one night we sighted ahead of us an open carriage with a man and a girl in it. The man put his arm around the girl and kissed her, whereupon the coxswain of our tram put on full speed and ran up alongside. Then the tram passengers leaned out, waved their hats and shouted, “Bravo, Bis!”

  Many of the cafés had girl orchestras, all the musicians wearing dresses that were exactly alike, white usually, and curiously I noticed the same thing in the city; frequently you would see two girls, and sometimes three or four, all dressed exactly alike. Whether it was for economy or was a passing fad I don’t know but its unusualness made it attractive.