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Updated: July 11, 2025
Of course, if he was speaking the truth, there seemed no reason why his plan, fantastic as it might sound, should not turn out perfectly successful. A private hut on the Thames marshes was about the last place in which you would look for an escaped Dartmoor convict, especially when he had vanished into thin air within a few miles of Devonport.
At Devonport they saw Mount Edgcumbe and the ironclad frigate 'Warrior' then still a novelty, and unquestionably the most powerful ship of war afloat. The Journal adds: 'Back to town on May 3rd. From Lord Brougham Cannes, April 22nd. I have a copy of my own, which I should like the author of the article to see, and shall send it through you when I return, for it is out of print.
On another occasion a civilian at Halifax asked him, "What do you sailors get to eat at sea?" "We live on wind and chew daylight," was his answer. When outside the dockyard gates I made off to a restaurant for refreshment, and then caught the train for Devonport, reaching it at 8 p.m. My father and a friend were on the platform to meet me.
At Plymouth North Road station I detrained but I have no memory now of how I reached South Raglan Barracks in Devonport. The barracks were typically army, grey, spartan, uninviting and ugly; my spirits sank.
No stranger ever passed Captain Cuttwater in the streets of Devonport without asking who he was, or, at any rate, specially noticing him. It must, of course, be admitted that a too strongly pronounced partiality for alcoholic drink had produced these defects in Captain Cuttwater's nasal organ; and yet he was a most staunch friend of temperance.
Rats again! there are none about mail-coaches, any more than snakes in Van Troil's Iceland; except, indeed, now and then a parliamentary rat, who always hides his shame in the "coal cellar." And, as to fire, I never knew but one in a mail-coach, which was in the Exeter mail, and caused by an obstinate sailor bound to Devonport.
"It is perfectly amazing," said Barry. "You British women are wonderful!" The brown eyes opened a little wider. "Wonderful? Why, what else could we do? But the Canadians! I think they're wonderful, coming all this way to fight." "I can't see that," said Barry. "That's what that old naval boy at Devonport said, but I can't see that it's anything wonderful that we should fight for our Empire."
The description in TheNavalChronicle might be applied to events which when impressment had ceased for half a century occurred over and over again at Portsmouth, Devonport, and other ports when two or three ships happened to be put in commission about the same time. We shall find that the 600 reported as impressed had to be considerably reduced before long.
He thought about it for a moment and then agreed, he went into the Company Office, saw the CO and returned within half-an-hour with the necessary papers for a transfer application. A few days later I was at Devonport railway station awaiting a Southern Railway train bound for Salisbury. On arrival there I found my way to the private house where I was to be interviewed.
On August 3, 1914, eleven months before my solemn admission into Devonport Dockyard, I was a young schoolboy on my holidays, playing tennis in a set of mixed doubles. About five o'clock a paper-boy entered the tennis-club grounds with the Evening News. My male opponent, although he was serving, stopped his game for a minute and bought a paper.
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