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Updated: September 3, 2025
Just before we anchored, Mr Osborne, the first lieutenant, sent for Mick and myself, the marine who passed the word forward for us, saying that `Number One' wanted to see us in the wardroom. Wondering what was up, my chum and I proceeded aft, where we found Mr Osborne seated at the table, having just had lunch, as the cloth showed.
Billings departed, and Denman grinned maliciously while he ate his dinner; and, after Billings had taken away the dishes with more comments on the woman's terrible punch Denman went out into the wardroom, intending to visit Miss Florrie. A glance overhead stopped him, and sent him back. The lubber's point on the telltale marked due west northwest. He sat down to think it out.
"All right, my man, I'll be there," I replied in an off-hand way, as he went on towards the wardroom, opposite to where we were standing; and I added aside to the corporal, "I don't think there's any fear of my being late!"
Kromodeor, in the wardroom, turned to Wixill as the two prepared to take their respective watches. "It looks as though the first action would come while we're on duty. I've got just one favor to ask, if you have to economize on power, let Number One alone, will you?" "No fear of that," Wixill hissed, with the Vorkulian equivalent of a chuckle.
There are others even in this England of ours by tradition better qualified to do the talking, in that they see most of the game. . . . On the whole, perhaps, more "shop" was discussed than would have been the case in peace-time, but for the most part it eddied round much the same subjects as Wardroom conversation always does, with the Indiarubber Man's Puck-like humour and gay mock-cynicism running through it like a whimsical pattern in an otherwise conventional design.
It was a tale of altruism and grit, so simply told, full of disappointments and privations, all of which they accepted with fortitude and never a complaint. On 27th January, 1913, after breakfast, I called the staff together in the wardroom and read out my plans for the future, officially assumed the command and control of the Expedition. I then appointed Lieuts.
And then, with sunrise in America, real preparations got under way. But hours earlier there was consultation on the carrier in the Bay of Naples. Coburn sat in a wardroom in a cold fury which was in part despair. He had been kept in complete ignorance of all measures taken, and he felt the raging indignation of a man accused of treason. He was being questioned again.
"You were at Suvla Bay and the landing from the River Clyde," he retorted. "You can't have every ruddy thing in life." A fine day in Ultima Thule they were rare was an occasion for thankfulness and rejoicing. Directly after luncheon the members of Gunroom and Wardroom made their way on deck to bask in the sun and smoke contemplative post-prandial pipes in the lee of the after superstructure.
"Ah!" he said, smiling, "I am afraid you must wait for that a little time." I had asked him earlier in the day if he would allow us the use of a room and a piano for a short time in the afternoon, so that we could keep up our custom of singing a few hymns on Sunday. Later on, he told me we might, with the permission of the officers, have their wardroom for half an hour.
They came up from dinner, lighting pipes and cigars, a full muster from Wardroom, Gunroom and Warrant Officers' Mess. The Captain came last, and his appearance was the signal for a great outburst of cheering from the closely packed audience. They had been waiting for this moment.
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