Here's another instalment from the diary of Private Wilfred Ashcroft, First Active Service Company, King's Own (Royal Lancaster Regiment). Interestingly, the military snobbery of the day comes through quite clearly. As gentlemen cavalry the Yeomanry appeared to have a rather high opinion of themselves and considered the infantry inferior. This attitude obviously caused some fiction, and there is more than just a tinge of schadenfreude in Private Ashcroft's writing when he observed one or more of the Yeomen to temporarily fall from grace. However, the men of the Active Service Company seem to have particularly resented being labelled as 'Militia' - akin to being the lowest of the low - so there was obviously a definite pecking order among the infantry too. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose, as they say in barracks everywhere.
Saturday, March 24th - We set off from St. Vincent last night about 7.30 p.m. and steamed nearly 22 knots an hour through the night as we are trying to catch a steamer, the “Nile,” and we had caught her up a day when we got to St. Vincent as she had only gone the day before and she set off two days before us. I think this boat will catch her before Capetown, which we expect to reach Tuesday week. I was on watch all day to-day, that is from 8 to 12 in the morning, and then from 8 to 12 at night, and we are getting quite into sailor’s work. It is the first time this boat has run at her full speed as it is only on her third trip, and it can go when she likes, but it slows down through the day as I think the heat has something to do with it. It is nice and cool in the night. We had some sport with the flying fish in the night as they kept flying aboard, and they are as big as a good big herring, and about the same colour. They just look like swallows when flying, and they can fly a long way, - about 100 yards – and the ship makes them fly in dozens as she goes along. It is very warm. There is one case of dysentery on board, and that is a yeoman, although two or three of our men are on the sick list, but mostly with swelled joints. I don’t know how they have got them without it is with wearing slippers as it is mostly the ankles.
Sunday, March 25th - I have not been in bed or hammock all night as it is so close downstairs, so I went to sleep in a chair on deck, and got up early and got ready for the service. We got the fire alarm just before we were ready, and you should have seen us rush on deck, as everybody has to be ready when the alarm goes, and it is very wonderful where all the men come from. I don’t know where I would get if it was real as there is not enough boats and no sight of land and plenty of sharks to wait for bits. The life belts would be of little use if a big shark got hold of us. It is nice weather, but very monotonous, as we have never seen a ship for a couple of days. It does not matter where we go we are nearly roasted, and I pity the poor stokers when they have to put 20 ton of coal on each shift – that is 60 in a day. We slacken speed every day, but go along very quick at night, and there is always a nice breeze up, so I can stand it all right, and I don’t think I will take any harm. They sent me a packet from the North Western Drug Stores. I received it when at Lancaster the day we left. There is vaselene, health salts, shaving soap, and washing soap, carbonate of potash, and a bottle of Elliman’s embrocation. The health salts are very handy and make a nice drink in this hot weather.
Monday, March 26th – We got up this morning, and it is hotter still, and shoals of dolphins jumping out of the water. They go in a long line reaching a mile and a half, and so they won’t miss many fish. We went on hammock parade this morning, and it was very hot standing on deck in the sun till they inspected hammocks, and to see that we had our two blankets and hammock. We are going to call at St. Helena for water, as the fire alarm went yesterday and they connected the fresh water pipe instead of the salt water, and it has made us run short; but we have plenty, as we get five pints a day allowed us, and it is quite plenty. There is some of the Yeomanry in the cells picking oakum for disobeying orders, and so you see the gentlemen are the worst of all, and they need not call us Militia, as there are none of our men in the cells yet, and none in the hospital. The Yeomanry have about forty out of their lot, and a lot more ready to go in. Our men have been inoculated today, and they seem to be all right, as only one of them fainted, and he is all right now. The officers of this ship are very pleased with the boys in red, and say we are the sort they want out in Africa, and not one-eyed glass men. The Yeomanry nearly all wear an eye-glass, and come on parade in kid gloves and were frightened they would get their feet wet when washing decks. It goes dark very quickly here, and is quite dark by seven o’clock. It is nice and breezy as it has been raining, and it does not forget to rain when it starts, but comes down in torrents. The officers set off rocket and life buoy lights to-night to celebrate the last night on this side of the Equator. The lights will burn for twenty-four hours, and water cannot put them out. We could see them for a long time.
Tuesday, March 27th – Father Neptune and his wife came on board this afternoon, and you should have seen the happy couple. They had rigged up a bath, and it was about 1 foot or 18 inches deep. They caught a sailor first, and he was lathered with whitewash, and shaved with a wooden razor, and then asked him if he had been across the line before, and he said “No.” The brush went in his mouth at the same time, and then he was thrown backwards in the bath, and a couple of hose-pipes turned on him. Just to show that there was no ill feeling, he was gently held under for a bit. One of our officers was down next, and he did get a dousing, and enjoyed it immensely, finishing with turning the hose-pipe on us, and wetting everybody through within range, including the ship’s officers and our own as well. There were about 100 shaved and bearded, and all the others were wet through as there were two hose-pipes going full speed. Father Neptune looked extra well, as he was an old soldier, and had a tin crown on his head, and long strands of rope for his hair and girdle. We had a drum and fife band, comprised of tin cans and tin whistles, and it sounded like a horse on a tin roof, or rattling the zinc on the side of Abbey road with a stick, and it made a horrible noise. One of the stewards was taking some jam in the cabins when they turned the hose on him, and you should have seen him move. He was vexed and so they said he had better be still or else he would get a cheap bath whether he wished it or not, and so he cleared off, and I never saw such fun in my life. It was better than the circus carnival, and would have made a pig laugh to see the darkies dress like doctors in top hats and dress suits and drenched to the skin. Father Neptune said there was too much water flying about, and he should be a good judge, as he got wet through dozens of times, and was about drowned. Some of the Yeomanry got on the derricks out of the road, but they just got in it, and were washed out with the hose-pipe. I am sure it was never done so well and with such a lot of take-it-all-in-good-parts sort of men, as there was not one of them that grumbled. It was enough to make a fight any other day.
Wednesday, March 28th – There is nothing fresh today, only all the clothes are hanging out to dry, and it makes the ship look like a back street on a Monday afternoon. It is a bit more rocky, to-day, and some of the men are sick again. We have been sewing our identity cards in our tunics. They have our name, number, next of kin, regiment and our addresses, and are sewn in the left side corner of our tunics. I hope we will live to open them ourselves, as it will mean something dangerous if we don’t.
Thursday, March 29th – We passed the “Clan Cameron” this morning about 12.30 or 1 a.m. and she was getting towed as her propeller shaft was broken. She is bound for Capetown, and was in sore distress as she was short of water and fodder for horses on board, belonging to Paget’s Horse. I don’t know the name of the steamer that was towing her, but she will get a good sum for her trouble, as they are six days sail off the Cape and are going with all speed. We stopped for about two hours to see what had happened, and they signalled to us name and accident and what had happened. We had a military funeral on board about half past nine this morning for one of the 2nd West Kent Volunteers, and they fired three volleys over him. He was bad when we set off, and had been in hospital all this time and died of pneumonia. He had only one lung, so he would have done no good if he had gone to South Africa. It is a sad thing to see a funeral at sea, and all the sailors had their best clothes on, and they took the chief part in the burial. The Lieutenant-Colonel read the service, and it was very touching, as all on board were listening, and his chums had to shoot over him. There were eight of them fired over him with ball cartridge. I hope none of our men are left in the sea, as it would be a bad thing to have come so far and then to be left behind.
The S.S. Tagus, the troopship that carried Wilfred Ashcroft and the men of the First Active Service Company of the King's Own (Royal Lancaster Regiment) to South Africa.
More to come..........
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