A half hour's walk later
On arrival at the docks, I found a few of my fellow officers waiting near the enlisted men's gangway. Our regimental commander, Major-General Basilworth, was with them and indicated to me a group of corporals standing nearby. He called out a Corporal Fleming from this group as he was to be my batman.
Fleming marched briskly over and saluted our commander, and then turned and saluted me wearing a wry grin. I immediately sensed our relationship was not going to be a standard, hierarchical one. Brusquely, I ordered him to take my bags and kit straight to my allotted cabin which prompted a somewhat deflated "Sah!" from Fleming. Round one to me, I thought.
As I turned away from the struggling figure of my batman, Major-General Basilworth also dismissed me with the statement that I should follow my batman immediately, as all personnel were to be on deck within the half-hour for a farewell salute as we departed. Military tradition, so I thought, but I was to discover that the real reason was that Mrs Basilworth had arranged for The Times' society pages journalist and a seeming multitude of photographers to be on hand for her 'fond farewell to her husband and the troops'.
Heading up the officer's gangway, I was hoping that I had been allocated a cabin close to the water closets, as I still had a fear of contracting a case of voracious mal-de-mer once we left harbour. The ship's purser directed me to my berth. When I entered, I found Corporal Fleming already ensconced and holding a silver teapot containing a steaming brew of Mr Twining's best Indian leaf.
"Tea, sah? Milk and sugar??" I indicated black tea, at which the corporal produced a small decanter of whisky. "Perhaps something to warm the cockles, then, sah???!!" I think it was at this point that I began to warm to this chap and to believe that we may be able to have less fraught lines of communication between us than I had expected.
I grinned and acceded to his wordless query as to a small toddy for himself. He also proceeded to explain that he had obtained just the sort of berth I had hoped for, as he had put in a request, prior to boarding, for a cabin close to the water closets due to potential seasickness on his own part. As an officer's batman must be allocated a berth adjacent to that of his officer, it thus fell that mine would be the next cabin but one from the aforesaid water closets.
We consumed several cups of 'tea' in celebration, though all the while Fleming was fulfilling his duties as a batman by laying out my dress gloves, peaked cap and sword. At 1300 hours precisely, we were on the bridge deck where the Major-General and the other officers and assorted batmen and Sergeant-Majors had gathered at the railings for the salute. On the main deck below, facing the wharf, could be seen a continuous line of enlisted men and other non-commissioned officers in their dress uniform standing to attention. The ship's massive horns were blasting away, and family and friends of the regiment's personnel were gathered, cheering and waving to us as we stood to attention and saluted as one.
Onshore, up on a separate higher dais, could be seen the forthright figure of Mrs Basilworth waving a small Union Jack limply but 'regally' to her beloved and his troops. The photographers, who had been positioned at several judicious angles to their subject, were seen to being taking profuse amounts of photographs. However, as Fate would have it, this was the very moment that a very strong gust of wind blew down the 'valley' created between the departing ship and the wharf buildings.
Predictably, hats, photographer's black cloths, and other light, loose items were blown willy-nilly. This included Mrs Basilworth's light cotton formal dress which blew up from around her legs, exposing her leggings and pantaloons to all personnel on board. With lightning speed to appease a now spluttering and beetroot-coloured Major-General, not to mention the state of Mrs Basilworth, we heard Sergeant-Major Merton barking an "Eyes right" at about 20 decibels to all enlisted men. Recovering himself, our regimental commander promptly ordered all personnel off the decks with no further shoreward vision.
Thence we retired to our respective berths until we had breached the harbour entrance. At 6 bells we gathered in the officers' dining room for dinner, but we were directed that any talk during our meal would only be on strictly military matters. A very disgruntled-looking Major-General joined us but spoke chiefly only when food was served. After dinner, I chose to retire early as I still feared the dreaded mal-de-mer and wanted to get as much rest as possible. As it was, I found that, though there was some mild rolling of the ship once we had left the Channel and entered the Atlantic proper, I felt no queasiness at all.
The same could not be said of Lieutenants Farnsby-Smythe and Waterson who seemed to be taking it in turns running between the water closets and the railings. As this toing and froing occurred close to my cabin during the night, I was awoken several times. I banged on the wall and asked Corporal Fleming if he had any earmuffs or other appropriate means of stifling their retching. This he did, and so I gained a sound sleep for the rest of the night.
