Blue Days at Sea – a review

I have just finished reading “Blue Days at Sea and other essays” by HV Morton. While attending an enormous conference set in a magnificent edifice of concrete and glass, this slightly battered little book made perfect reading. It was a good companion to me in largely anonymous crowds as I carried it around to read between lectures and in coffee bars and restaurants, Morton’s highly readable style provided much welcome light relief from the subject matter at hand just as its slightly shabby cover contrasted pleasingly with the slick, plush interiors of the venue.

Blue Days at Sea, medium

The first thing I was looking forward to knowing more about was the unusual title. I had a vague idea the book was about the sea but was puzzled about the origins of the title. On opening the book I discovered that it is taken from a poem entitled “Romance”, by a young Robert Louis Stevenson. The first verse is given before the book begins:

I will make you brooches and toys for your delight
Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.
I will make a palace fit for you and me
Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.

“Blue Days at Sea and other essays” was first published in1932 and is dedicated “To All Who Serve on the High Seas”.

The book is a collection of short essays and vignettes, many of which are original, others having previously appeared in the Daily Express, the Sunday Express and the Daily Herald. It has nicely managed structure and form and is laid out in three broad sections – starting in serious and sombre mood in the section “About Men”, shifting into lighter gear for “About Women”, and offering a touch of introspection and a hint of the exotic as Morton travels far and wide across Europe and North Africa in “About Places”, until the final joy of coming home – “to a country which has no need to chain nailbrushes to a lavatory basin” – rounds off the collection.

The section titles are applied fairly loosley. In fact “About Men” concerns life in the Royal Navy, being an account of a period Morton spent as a journalist with the fleet, assigned to a ship referred to as HMS Impenetrable (although there is no reference an actual ship of this name anywhere to be found on the internet), initially anchored at its the base in the Cromarty Firth and later, during deep sea exercises and weapons training. These chapters clearly portray the great respect the author has for the personnel he encounters. We read his affectionate descriptions of the various manly goings-on and eccentricities he comes across, from the young “snotties” in the gun room to the god-like Captain on the bridge; all the time managing to convey a state of constant readiness, a willingness to face adversity and of extreme, calm and considered professionalism. These chaps, Morton seems to suggest, will get the job done, come what may, and still be back in the ward-room in time for a tot of rum and a round of “Priest of the Parish” before bed-time.

After the thrills of high speed manouvers in the Atlantic we are taken to the other extreme where, in the languid setting of a mediterranean naval base, the reader is given a touching account of the death and burial at sea of humble, loyal, Stoker Davis. Again Morton paints a picture of reserve and British stiff upper lip –

“‘Hullo! Where’s the wedding?’, asked a friend, nodding at the flowers.
“‘It’s Stoker Davis,’ replied the engineer commander, finishing his drink. ‘Dead.’
“‘Bad luck… What are you drinking?'”

HMS Dreadnought on manouvers

HMS Dreadnought on manouvers

The next section, “About Women”, while tending to the patronising as might be expected in a book of its time also reveals refreshingly modern attitudes in places. “The Wife” for instance, while describing the subject’s love affair “with a dress in a shop window”, also has a swipe at the husband as he is taken to task for not appreciating the work performed by his better half. The author also expresses disapproval of the husbandly hold on the purse strings which would have been the norm at the time. In another chapter Morton describes a business woman as she delivers financial advice to a male client to the accompaniment of simpering comments from a couple of “chaps” at the next table, “By Jove, pretty hot stuff that!”. To be fair, this isn’t Germaine Greer but in its day it must have been a bit of a revalation, particularly coming from a male author.

The reader is treated to a touch of pathos with the mysterious “Woman Nobody Knows” and a little light humour with “The Bad Girl” (a disconcertingly modern-sounding account of 1930’s “yoof”) and “The Head Huntress” ruthlessly stalking the jungles of London Society in dogged pursuit of a suitable marriage for her daughter.

The final section, “About Places”, starts in the tourist office with an account of the “Man of the World” who works there (and isn’t all he seems!), before Morton is off, across the globe with tales of his travels as he visits Paris, sees snow in Rome, rides across the Sahara on Ferdinand the Fiery Steed and encounters a link with the past – a proud man fallen on hard times – as he relates the touching story of Mr Snap in Cairo. There are several chapters concerning Rome, including an account – of interest to any Scot worth his salt – of a visit to the final resting place of Charles Edward Stewart, Bonnie Prince Charlie, at his tomb in the Church of St Peter. Morton gives a moving account of the life of the Young Pretender, contrasting the romance and chivalry of his youth with his sad fall from grace in later life. The romance of House of Stewart, he observes with disconcerting insight, is “the appealing romance of misfortune wedded to good looks”.

Then, after stopping off for a spot of night fishing in the seas around Capri where he is horrified by the throes of an expiring calamaro (or squid), it is back home once again with a loving homage to homecoming in the form of an account of the Dover to Victoria train as it takes Morton back to “reliable” London, a city populated entirely by “splendid men and beautiful women”. He is realistic about the fleeting nature of such feelings of elation after long weeks spent travelling abroad but nevertheless he notes the railway platform at Dover harbour as a symbol of something he would be willing to fight to defend in the event of war. I wonder if he could have guessed that only a few short years later he, and millions of others, would be called upon to do just that.

“Blue Days at Sea and other essays” is an engaging assortment, demonstrating Morton at his strongest as he explores a wide range of moods and emotions, all the while rooted in the everyday happenings of the world of the 1930’s. Once again Morton’s exquisite use of pace, structure and language reveals intimate details of life overlooked by grander, more self-important accounts elsewhere, and even today, after the best part of a century, we can still delight in it.

Niall Taylor, Glastonbury, England
5 March 2013

ship 02 silhouette copy small

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5 Comments

Filed under Book reviews, HV Morton, Quotations

5 responses to “Blue Days at Sea – a review

  1. Frances Wade

    Hi Niall – ‘Blue Days at Sea’ was my first introduction to HVM. I was poking around one of the local second-hand bookshops a few years ago, hadn’t found anything on the ‘second-hand book shopping-list’ I carry around with me, and was doing a random skim in hope of finding something old and readable – say, some little forgotten novel from a gentler era when such little novels could still find a publisher – when I spotted a little pale blue cloth-covered book titled ‘Blue Days at Sea’. Ah, I thought. The cover pleased me. The size appealed to me. Books are so heavy and bulky these days, usually for no very good reason. Why make them too big to slip into a handbag? Why make them as heavy as a brick? Why the popularity of stupid unreadable grey sanserif fonts on shiny paper?

    But this book was small, light and – joy of joys – could open out flat on a table and stay that way. A cursory glance assured me that it would be a good read. When I opened it again at home I didn’t need to peruse more than a few pages to realise that this H.V. Morton had to be famous, even if I myself had never heard of him. The internet rapidly (a) assured me that he was indeed celebrated; (b) made me aware of the HVM Society, which I promptly joined.

    I loved HVM’s evocative style, the respect and affection he clearly had for the British Navy, and the humorous situations that such an extraordinary community can be subject to. I was moved by his depiction of the stoicism of the men burying their mate at sea, far from his home and the poignant mystery of Mr Snap.

    It’s easy to become lost in such writing. In fact, my absorption in this book occasioned one laugh that wasn’t due to HVM’s anecdotes. Imagine sitting on the front porch enjoying a companionable silence on a sunny day, nose buried in the first part of the text, when a remark from your butterfly-fancying friend, who’s been staring absently out at the garden, penetrates your consciousness: ‘Oh … an Admiral just floated past!’

    Cheers
    Frances Wade

    • Dear Francis,
      What a wonderful account – I’ve a good mind to take my review down and put yours up instead! It was the deep respect for the Navy that impressed me too about this book – it’s honest and, at times humorous, but always with a core of reverence for the men, the machines and the job they have to do.
      It’s a wonderful read (although being able to slip it into a handbag is less of a priority for me) and I’m so glad it persuaded you to join the HVM Society!
      All the best,
      Niall

  2. Rox

    I agree with most of this, but I found his considerable disrespect for the midshipmen unsettling, It is a great relief to know (or hope), mainly for the sake of the midshipmen,.that HMS Impenetrable was not a real ship and that the ship the author visited could not easily be identified,

    “Priest of the Parish” is a distinctly odd practice. I wonder if it is so thoroughly described anywhere else, and if it still goes on in the Navy ? The internet reveals versions of it as a game mainly for children as far away as Zimbabwe and India.

  3. Pingback: HV Morton, a mysterious letter and HMS Rodney | H.V.Morton

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