Everybody is asking, Where is the Grand Fleet? And that is just what the Germans would like to know. It has a marvellous facility for appearing and disappearing. Occasionally we receive letters bearing the address, "In the North Sea or elsewhere," and sometimes we think it is more elsewhere than there. No postmark gives its location away, no newspaper paragraph lets us into the secret. And then suddenly it appears:

Out of the everywhere into the here,

and the Germans find to their dismay a part of it off the Dogger Bank, and the sleepy Turk wakes up to find another part in the Dardanelles.

It is like one of the mysterious powers of nature--unseen, but ever exercising a powerful influence. Its existence is always felt--felt by our foes with ever-increasing pressure, and felt by us with influences always beneficial.

It sleeps not and rests not. It is always "ready, aye ready." From Admiral Sir John Jellicoe to the grimiest stoker, it is one in purpose and in action. And because it is _there_, we sleep well in our beds at night, and there are few of us, as we lie down to rest, but breathe a prayer for those who seem never to rest--

"G.o.d bless our sons upon the sea."

We have always been proud of our fleet, but never so proud as to-day.

It expresses the genius of our nation. Our way has always been "in great waters." We talk of ourselves as "safe circled by the silver sea," but the sea would not save us without our fleet.

When the war broke out, we found ourselves asking, "How will it be with us now?" With forty million mouths to feed and only six weeks'

supply of food in the country, how will it be with us now?

Our fleet has solved that problem, and food has poured into the country in plenty and everyone has been fed. It has been in every sea, chasing our enemies off the ocean, protecting trade routes, convoying troop-ships, and at the same time bottling up our enemies in their harbours.

Never was such a herculean task undertaken and never so well performed. Battleships and cruisers, torpedo boats, and submarines, all in their turn have done their work, and done it well. They are waiting they tell us for "the day" of which the enemy boasted so much, and when the day dawns they will be there.

We realise that our fleet will be the deciding fact in this war. Our soldiers have done splendidly and will continue so to do, but without our ships they would be helpless, and if once we lose command of the sea, the glory of our country will pa.s.s away. But we have no doubts and no fears. They are _there_--and _here_--_everywhere_.

The nation's grat.i.tude has been shown in many ways during the war.

Busy hands have worked for it, and numberless prayers have risen to G.o.d's throne on its behalf. As an instance of what has been done, I quote the figures of "comforts" sent from _one_ girls' school to _one_ ship--the _Ajax_. The school is the Girls' Grammar School, Bury, whose headmistress is Miss J.P. Kitchener (a relative of Lord Kitchener).

Wristlets, 137; m.u.f.flers, 118; body bands, 120; socks and stockings, 35; sea boot stockings, 16; mittens, 142; jersey, 1; books and magazines, 500. Of course all the articles, except the books, have been made by the girls. In addition to these they have sent 1673 articles to the soldiers. I wonder if this is a record for such an inst.i.tution? This, however, is only a specimen of what has been done.

Somewhere with that mysterious fleet are a hundred and fifty chaplains. No Free Church chaplains are afloat. It would be difficult to carry more than one chaplain on a ship, and, of course, many of the ships of war carry no chaplain at all. Where there is no chaplain the commanding officer conducts the ship's service. Nonconformists at sea have to lose for the time the ministry of their several churches, but when in port landing parties redress this inequality. Some ships, especially those belonging to Devonport, have a strong Nonconformist element in their crews.

The naval chaplain as a rule is an entirely different type of man from his brother in the Army. He is monarch of all he surveys. He has to face no compet.i.tion in his work. He partakes of the freedom of the sea. For the most part he is a right down good fellow, but, so far as I can judge, he has not the type of spirituality of which we see so much in the Army. He is all sorts of things rolled into one--sea-lawyer, letter-writer, story-teller, lecturer, schoolmaster, game-director, and a host of other things beside. He must be absolutely sincere if he is to be any good at all, for he never gets away from the busy life of the ship, and he of all men "cannot be hid." Often he is the friend and counsellor of the men, sharing their joys and sorrows. He is the go-between for officers and men, and if he be efficient--and an inefficient man could hardly remain long on board--he makes himself indispensable.

Of course he shares all the dangers of the ship, and to-day if a ship be beaten it is also sunk. Never were the dangers of the sea so great.

Dangers _on_ the sea, _under_ the sea, _over_ the sea, crowd around.

He never knows when or how suddenly the end may come, and it behoves him to be ready, and brave. We are told that, when the three cruisers were torpedoed in the North Sea, the Rev. E.G. Uphill Robson, chaplain of the _Aboukir_, went down cheering the men he loved so well. The Rev. A.H.J. Pitts, the chaplain of the _Good Hope_, died bravely with Sir Christopher Cradock. A petty officer who knew him in another ship says, "With him compulsory church was quite unnecessary. n.o.body in the ship would be absent from the service if he could possibly manage to get there."

One of the most terrible catastrophes of the war was the blowing up of the _Bulwark_ in Sheerness Harbour. The Rev. G.H. Hewetson, the chaplain, was on board and perished with the rest. He had only been married a few months.

"Only the other week," wrote a correspondent of the _Church Family Newspaper_, "I met a stoker, who told me he, Mr. Hewetson, held meetings for men every evening in his cabin, and he was constantly at their elbow when spells from duty would permit, guiding them in 'the things that matter.' It was also my privilege to know him as chaplain to the Royal Naval Barracks, Portsmouth, during his stay of nearly three years, which terminated with his taking up duties on the _Bulwark_ at the outbreak of war. He was a man of G.o.d, also a sportsman of the highest tone, being an expert fencer, a runner-up in the Army and Navy championships at Olympia two seasons ago. He was a man of some literary ability, for which the Chaplain of the Fleet made him editor of the _Church Pennant_, _i.e._ the Church magazine of the Navy. Mr. Hewetson was an earnest believer in individual methods, and invariably worked sixteen hours a day, visiting all recruits, detention quarters, sick bay, and held no fewer than five services on Sundays."

I suppose we include our chaplains when we pray for those who "go down to the sea in ships"; but surely these men who are there, not to fight, but to preach and pray, claim a special interest in our prayers.

Prayers are read every morning on every large war-ship, and this is, of course, the chaplain's duty, if one is carried in the ship. The life and work of the day depends very largely on how this is done.

On Sunday there is a sermon--just a quiet, homely talk from heart to heart, and in these days we may well believe that men are thrilled by the message as never before. Of course, during the winter storms morning prayers on deck or Sunday parades are impossible, for many a great green sea will break over the decks even of a super-Dreadnought.

At these times service is held below and men attend in relays. On some of the super-Dreadnoughts there are little churches. The _Queen Mary_, for instance, has one.

I have asked a few representative chaplains to tell me something of the spiritual work on board their ships.

The Rev. C.W. Lydall, chaplain of the _Lion_, which took part in the North Sea battle, says: "I can only tell you that in this ship our religious motto has been 'business as usual.' I mean the war routine has interfered as little as possible with our services, which have been attended well. There has been a decided increase in the number of communicants, and in many small ways the men have shown a fuller consciousness of their dependence upon G.o.d."

The Rev. Arthur C. Moreton, chaplain of the _Invincible_, which was engaged in the battle off the Falkland Islands, writes: "The usual services are held when practicable, and on Sunday and Wednesday nights I have a prayer meeting with Bible-reading in my cabin."

The Rev. M.T. Hainsselin, chaplain of the _Ajax_, writes: "The war has made little or no difference to my routine of church work on this ship. The only service I have added has been a second celebration of Holy Communion in addition to the usual 7.40 A.M. one, to enable men to come who could not be present earlier; and the opportunity has been much valued. The other services of Morning and Evening Prayer are continued as usual.

"As you probably know, sailors do not as a general rule care much about the Parade Service at 10.30 A.M., but I think I may truly say that since the outbreak of the war they have come far more to realise it as an act of worship due from them, and it has become a deep reality instead of--as it was to many--a formality.

"In the men's letters which I have had to censor, I have noticed a very strong current of devout religious sentiment, hitherto unsuspected, which encouraged me to think that one's ordinary teaching is not so much wasted effort, as one is sometimes faithless enough to think it is."

How heavy the veil of secrecy hanging over the fleet really is, will be seen from the fact that only one copy of the _Church Pennant_, which lost its editor in the _Bulwark_, was issued between the outbreak of war and Easter, and that in February last. The _Church Pennant_ is the organ of the Naval Church Society, and records the Christian work on board H.M. ships. Several reports of Christian work are given in this solitary issue, but the names of the ships are only indicated by initials.

One report states that the place ordinarily used for celebrations and evening service had to be given up to the doctors, but that Holy Communion has been celebrated in the chaplain's cabin every Sunday. On Christmas Day there were two communions and the number of communicants was thirty-four. "The men in general are pleased to read religious papers, and readily accept prayer cards."

Another report says: "On board this ship we were able, in spite of now and then roughish weather, to keep up our regular daily prayers and Sunday services. On Sundays we had stand-up church and two hymns from the hymn cards, and all the responses of Matins with one lesson and one of the Canticles sung. We had the harmonium to sing to. These services were brief, but very heartily joined in. After stand-up Matins we were able always to have our celebration in the captain's cabin--there being no other place in the ship available. The attendance was very good and showed that the old prejudice against coming so far aft is at any rate moribund. Sometimes the weather made it a little difficult both for the priest and worshippers, but we soon got used to the necessary balancing.... Everyone throughout the ship was merry and bright; we only regretted not having a chance of meeting an opposite number of the enemy."

A third report is as follows:

"First of all, nightly Evensong has been held by the chaplain ever since the war broke out. On account of the smallness of our numbers, we meet in the chaplain's cabin, and there the service is performed.

Every Sunday morning, at 7 o'clock, we have a celebration of the Holy Communion; and on the second Sunday in the month this service is repeated after morning service. Our flotilla forms rather a large parish for the chaplain, and to supply its wants we have a service specially arranged whenever it is convenient. After our usual 7 A.M.

service, we sometimes proceed on board another ship, and have a celebration, to which all communicants from the other vessels in our company are invited by signal.

"The place allotted to us in each instance is the captain's forecabin, which in this ship is as suitable a place as service conditions will allow. On Sunday evenings we have Evensong at 8.30, followed by hymn-singing, and occasionally we get a good attendance. But this, like other services, suffers for want of good s.p.a.ce, which is not always easy to find on board ship....

"Conditions on board ship render any efforts with regard to church work very difficult, and this is most marked during these trying times. No doubt many more would join in our united devotions did their duty allow. But we may well be content to go ahead and do the best we can, even if it should be rather disheartening at times. And it will be acknowledged that there has been at least some effort made to continue our duty towards the Church of which we are so proud to consider ourselves loyal members. Our daily evening service closes with a prayer, in which all are remembered, and this is a means by which all may help. We feel and know that those who are on sh.o.r.e are doing the same, and praying for guidance and protection for us from Him Who is above all this turmoil and strife, and Who alone is able to preserve us from peril."

Here is yet one more report:

"Owing to the outbreak of the war the Temperance and Bible cla.s.ses in this ship have been discontinued, but the Daily Prayer Meeting has been kept going in almost unbroken line.

"The voluntary services on Sunday evenings have been well attended, also the weekly celebration of the Holy Communion is very encouraging."

Putting the chaplains' letters and these various reports to the _Church Pennant_ together, it is evident that the "business" of the Church has been, so far as possible, carried on "as usual," and that from a Church of England point of view it has been satisfactory.

It does not, however, satisfy us. We want to get into the men's hearts and minds and find out what they are feeling and thinking in these strenuous times. Does the thought of death affect them? Have the things of eternity become more real? Are they conscious of sin within, and of their need of a Saviour? Light-hearted and merry as ever, have they the joy of the Lord?

All around them are terrible armaments. We are told that the 15-inch guns of the new _Queen Elizabeth_ can send a sh.e.l.l weighing a ton for a distance of more than twenty miles. The destruction which can be wrought by one of these sh.e.l.ls can be imagined when we read of the havoc wrought by one such sh.e.l.l in one of the great forts of Antwerp.

It was not, of course, from a man-of-war, but its destructive force would be the same. Says Sir Cecil Hertslet, our late Consul-General at Antwerp:

"Another of these great sh.e.l.ls, weighing nearly a ton, fired from a distance of about ten miles, rising three miles into the air, fell upon the cupola of another of the great outer forts of Antwerp. It went through the concrete roof of the fort, pa.s.sed through the great hall where the garrison of the fort was a.s.sembled; it went down to the floor and lower still, and at last exploded, and with the explosion swept away everything--forts, guns, garrison, disappearing."

Are they conscious that they have such terrible engines of destruction on board which on occasion they will use? Does the thought of it ever appal them? Do they think that all around them are mines strewing the North Sea, and that submarines are lurking here and there waiting to launch the terrible torpedo? Do these thoughts ever come to a Jack Tar, and how do they affect him?

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo Credit, Southsea._ A VOLUNTARY SERVICE ON A BATTLESHIP.

The church is "rigged" on the leeward side of a pair of 13.5 guns. A most impressive service.]

To the real Christian death has, of course, no terror. He swings himself into his hammock at night, knowing that to him sudden death will be sudden glory. But to the ordinary man-of-war's man has there come an accession of seriousness, such as has come to the men in the sister service?

We can as yet only answer this question in part, and must wait for a full answer until the veil of secrecy is lifted.