Captain Peter Behague, OBE, DSC RN, came into my life like a thunderclap in 1949 when I worked in Singapore. I was then a journalist with the Straits Times. He was Chief Staff Officer, HMS Terror, Singapore Naval Base. I had written a critical article for my paper under my name. He had no idea there were other Behagues in the world apart from his own small enclave. He demanded to know who the blazing fury this intruder was - and thus began a long and cordial relationship which lasted until his death in 1982.

Born an Alfred, he preferred to be called Peter, and was a meticulous, spry, bright-eyed man with a salty tongue, a high spirit of adventure and an unquenchable love of the sea. He once told me that the Woolwich Ferry which plied across the Thames between Woolwich and the East Ham docks was his undoing. It fascinated him as a boy, and since it was a free ferry he spent many hours travelling backwards and forwards on it observing the swirls and currents of the river and admiring the skills of the crew.

In 1915, on his 18th birthday, he was accepted for a 12-year term with the Royal Navy starting as a Boy Second Class rating. Little did he realise then that he was destined to make the navy his career, would win high honours, and be one of the few "boys" to gain the coveted rank of captain. After initial training he joined HMS Impregnable at Devonport, where life was tough and spartan and left him with a loathing for apricot jam, which was served with most meals.

He wrote home to comment "My pocket money is only 6d a week with one bar of chocolate and no stamp."

After being made up to Boy First Class in 1916 he was drafted to his first sea-going ship, the SS Hildebrand, a passenger vessel belonging to Booth Line which was acting as an armed merchant cruiser attached to the 10th Cruiser Squadron.

That, briefly, was how he was launched and where we now pause to look into his ditty box. It's strange the odd things one clings to over the years. Captain Behague died in Western Australia in 1982 and when, recently, his daughter Ann began to sort out his bits and pieces she came across a ditty box which was full of letters, papers and journals, together with his old school cap and football jersey.

What on earth to do with a lifetime of memorabilia? Ann had tearfully to discard much of it, but bravely set out to arrange the rest in chronological order, binding them into two fascinating volumes of one sailor's life with copies for family and friends. They make lively reading.

One of the first documents to come to light was a certificate reading "Paid 7s. 4d. for destruction of submarine UC49." To find out more, the Ministry of Defence, Naval Staff Duties (Historical Section) was contacted, and the reply was as follows:

"Captain Behague's award of 7s. 4d. for the destruction of UC49 was bounty or 'head money' paid for the destruction of enemy warships and analogous to Prize Money. Initially introduced to counter Prize Money, which tended to cause preferment of trade capture over engaging the enemy, the bounty was based on the number of crew on board the enemy ship. During the period 1914-1918 the scheme was extended by the award of fixed sums (usually £500 or £1,000) to crews of ships believed to have sunk submarines. Royal Naval officers were excluded, only Royal Naval Reserve and Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve and ratings benefiting on a 'share' basis. Awards were made, sometimes long afterwards, as the notation on the certificate shows".

It was August 1917 and Seaman Behague was serving in the patrol destroyer HMS Opossum at the time. Payment was not made until February, 1923, and the war had been over for several years. The silent service can often be remarkably slow in coughing up.

The UC49 was the last U-boat to be sunk in the Channel at the end of the Great War. Engaged in mine laying off Start Point it fouled one of its own mines and there was an explosion. Opossum heard the blast and began looking for the U-boat with sweeps and hydrophones. Captain Kukenthal, commander of the UC49, started his motors when he thought he was safe but Opossum was on to him and dropped several depth charges. Kukenthal stayed at the bottom and Opossum withdrew noisily to a spot a couple of miles away in an attempt to outfox the UC49.

After two and a half hours of lying low the U-boat broke surface, then surprisingly and quickly began to sink, bow down at a 50 degree angle. Opossum dashed to the scene, let loose more depth charges and was rewarded with the sight of oil and bubbles. A sweeper located the wreck the next day and final confirmation came with the appearance of an electric light bulb made in Vienna.

In February, 1923, Leading Seaman Behague was posted to the battleship HMS Valiant. It was a profitable year, and he won the Arbuthnot Trophy for prowess on an 8 hp autocycle and gained his Highest Education Certificate First Class, scoring 94 marks for navigation, reckoned to be highly creditable.

Late in 1924 he was promoted to Acting Mate and went on a mate's course at the Royal Naval College, Greenwich. In the following January fate in the shape of Muriel Mary West was awaiting him at a dance and they were married in December. I mention this because among the Captain's precious bits and pieces are the ticket to the dance at the Holborn Hall, London, together with a letter from Muriel West accepting his invitation to attend. They were so formal in those days. There is a note beneath the marriage certificate which reads "The beginning of 43 years of happy married life, in spite of many and long separations". It was not much fun, however, to be a sailor's wife in those demanding days.

Captain Behague's daughter, Ann, notes that her father kept diaries from the day he joined the Navy in 1915. During the 1939-45 war these, together with many letters and papers, were destroyed whilst in storage during an incendiary raid on Portsmouth. It is fortunate, she says, that anything at all has survived but it means that many details of his life have been lost.

In 1939 an Admiralty Fleet Order was issued at the beginning of the war prohibiting officers and men from keeping a diary. This was for security reasons in case of capture and information falling into enemy hands. Captain Behague obeyed this rule to the letter, unlike many other more senior officers who have subsequently published memoirs based on their wartime diaries.

His first appointment as a commissioned officer came in March 1926 when he was appointed Mate to the battleship HMS Marlborough, with additional duties as Mate of the drifter Flat Calm, used as a tender by Marlborough. Being mate of a drifter had its compensations. You were your own boss to a certain extent and life was what you made it, but you were always at the beck and call of Big Brother.

Flat Calm was a former North Sea fishing boat originally designed for "drifting" attached to the end of a long fishing net. The Royal Navy used them as tenders to capital ships to transport stores, liberty men etc. between ship and shore. When the capital ship moved to a different port, the drifter had to follow, making an independent passage.

The captain of HMS Marlborough always signed himself "R. P-E-E-Drax". His name in full was the Honourable Reginald Plunkett-Ernle-Erle-Drax, no less, so no wonder he preferred the abbreviated version. Among the "flimsies" (summaries of confidential reports) written on Peter Behague by R. P-E-E-Drax is one recommending him "in all respects fit for promotion to the rank of Lieutenant" and another praising him for his accurate sightings and good knowledge of navigation - especially in drifters. Behague was on his way.

I April, 1928, Lieut. Peter Behague was posted to HMS Vivid in Devonport, where he stayed for two enjoyable years, renting a small house at St. Budeaux, just outside Plymouth, touring around Devon in a long-bonnetted Morris Cowley, camping and picnicking. It was a great time for family gatherings, plus fours, golf, tennis and peace. The albums for this period in his life bulge with joyful outings. But life for men in the Royal Navy did not stand still for long, even in those golden years between the wars.

OFF TO CHINA....

In February, 1930, he left England, home and beauty in HMS Vindictive for the Far East after being appointed First Lieutenant of the Yangtse gunboat HMS Cockchafer on the China Station, and to what was to be a two-year stint. He now began the first of two journals, which mercifully have survived the years and make most interesting reading.

Smells pleasant and foul

The voyage in Vindictive took in Gibraltar, Malta, Port Said, Port Thewfik, Aden, Colombo, Singapore, Hong Kong, Woosung, Nanking, Wuhu, Kinkiang and all ports to Hankow before joining HMS Cockchafer. There are accounts of expeditions ashore, the pleasant smells of Malta, of being nearly gassed by funnel fumes, Ghulli Ghulli men, and of dried up salt lakes alongside the Suez Canal looking just like snow fields.

Wry comments abound

"Amused by the antique method employed by the natives in dredging the Sweet Water Canal. Just an ordinary garden rake on the end of a piece of rope. The rake is thrown in, allowed to sink and then dragged out by the rope. Result - practically nix".

"Suez is a ghastly place, all smells, flies and garbage, quite the filthiest place I've ever seen. Went to the Hotel Bel Air (sic!) and had some poisonous coffee".

"In Thewfik we went to a club and were made hon. members. A very good club indeed. They gave a dance for us on the night of our arrival and sent the Consul on board to ask us to go. The idiot forgot. He is quite wet. Thewfik is a very pretty place indeed and very clean. Thousands of huge dragonflies on the jetty when we went for the boat. Amused ourselves by trying to catch them. The Captain upheld his reputation here as usual. Wherever we go he knows women".

"Arrived Aden. Extraordinary sight of soldiers drilling. They wear fez, tunic and khaki shorts, puttees and no boots. Their feet are colossal. Went to see the famous mermaids of Aden all caught at various times in the harbour. They are about eight feet long, have a head rather like an ape, very short arms with an extraordinarily human hand and they are quite human with the exception that they have no legs but a tail".

And then there was this poignant entry:

"Had afternoon watch and promptly got the willies. How can I possibly exist for two years away from my Muriel? Two years - Two years - beating into my brain the whole afternoon. I wonder if I shall go batty? It must be perfectly foul for her to be stuck in the same place, meeting the same smug people all the time, all asking the same insane question, 'And where is your husband now, Muriel?' Brrrh!"

Captain Behague's daughter Ann comments: "It was not an easy time for my mother. In these days for Service people to be separated for that length of time would be unheard of but somehow it was accepted then".

Then came Singapore. "Arrived Naval Base at 4 pm and berthed alonside Ruthenia in a terrific thunderstorm, lightning crackling all round the ship and setting fire to trees on the bank 30 yards away. Cost of living in Singapore very high. No place for naval officers. Went to Raffles Hotel for a drink. Asked for a lime juice and soda and was supplied with a glass of soda water on which was floating a thin slice of lime! They only understand stengahs and pahits here".

Hong Kong. "Surrounded by junks and sampans. The women do all the work apparently. I hated the sight of the women, often with young babies on their backs, pulling a huge sweep. The stinks baffle description".

Woosung. "Absolutely nothing to see here. It is just like Sheerness at low water. The river is about ten miles wide and of a bright yellow colour. Not too impressed with my first sight of the Yangtse".

Nanking. "Martial law in Nanking and much soldiery moving about and crossing the river. HMS Suffolk is here as well as Aphis, also two Chinese cruisers, a Yankee destroyer and Jap gunboat".

Hankow. "Left Vindictive. Received orders to take passage to HMS Mantis at Chenglin in HMS Gnat".

Chenglin. "Transhipped gear to Mantis. Went ashore to tennis party given by Mr. Chiaou, the Chinese Commissioner. He speaks moderate English but his wife more. They seem to have masses of brats, who keep popping their heads out of odd doors. Tennis wasn't of a high standard".

Who'd be a Chinese soldier?

Changsha. "Much military activity in the harbour. Bugles blowing, crackers cracking and junk loads of soldiers moving down river, off to squash the Communists who are very active in neighbouring villages. Who'd be a Chinese soldier on $2 a month, when he gets it?" Do not intend to acquire the boozing habit out here. Have come to the conclusion that everyone drinks too much in China".

"Passed through Tiger Tooth Gorge just below Ichang and anchored at Ichang. Skipper went ashore while I looked after ship. Invaded by boozy party including the Captain of the American gunboat and an extraordinary character known as Ol' Man River. Managed to get rid of them fairly quickly when they realised I wasn't going to fill [remained of sentence has been lost]

The long-suffering Behague finally arrived at his destination, Chungking, after travelling for three months, and joined HMS Cockchafer as First Lieutenant. He then learnt to his dismay that his new Captain was a wealthy man and that mess costs on the ship were among the highest on the river. The trouble was "all these parasites" as the new Chief Executive began to call them. These petty civilian officials and their "awful" wives expected to be wined and dined at the drop of an anchor.

Recorded in his journal is this despairing cry: "I wonder if it ever occurs to them that we have to pay for it. All this money ought to be for my Muriel, instead of which it is going down the throats of these human vultures. I'm fed up with it all".

And still feeling jaundiced: "Dragon festival today and nothing but hideous banging of gongs and monotonous chanting all day from the waterfront".

There are many more dry and salty comments, some of which have had to be pruned or diplomatically omitted. Here is a selection:

"Nothing exciting to note other than a Chinaman busted his bean by falling over the cliff abreast the ship. Our doc went and patched him up which was rather foolish 'cos if the man dies he will get the blame and if he lives they'll say he tried to kill him. Why worry".

"Lunched at the Schwares. Gigantic party - a most queer affair, idea being, as far as I can see, is to fill the guests up with cocktails so that they don't care what sort of food they eat, or how they eat it. The usual crowd of ham-faced women".

"Dinner party tonight. A lot of parties lately. It's the Skipper's doing entirely, so I've taken the precaution of charging him up for them. Don't propose to stand any of this nonsense of 'Going down to the mess'".

"Had a frightful time last night. Nearly eaten alive by blasted bugs, some of them as big as peas, crawling over my pillow, inside my pyjamas and everywhere. Driven out of my cabin, I had to shelter in a chair on the upper all night. No sleep. Had my mattress and pillows on deck and found them full of bugs. Burned the whole outfit. Shipwright took all furniture, bunk etc. to pieces and found plenty more. One of the joys of life in China".

"My first experience of chair-riding. Rather unpleasant at first, especially when the coolies change places. One finds oneself flung violently in the air while another coolie inserts himself in the shafts".

"Heard today that Mr. Chiau of Chenglin has been captured by the Reds and held to ransom for $10,000. Poor man. Wonder what has happened to Mrs. Chiau and all the little Chiaus?"

"Communists have entrenched themselves down river with two old muzzle loaders firing nails!".

"Pretty grim news from Changsha today. Communists burning and looting the town. Everybody evacuated including the Consul. Water has fallen to a very low level so our chances of getting there are small".

Plagues of nasties

"A plague of gigantic grasshopper things tonight, in our food, clothes everywhere. Walking about on deck created a nasty crunchy mess. Had to retreat to cabin, with ventilator, scuttles and door closed and lights out".

"Arrive Chenglin. A plague of race flies at dinner time, just like a snow storm".

Receive instructions to proceed Changsha. This is a relief. Chenglin is the last spot on earth. Our greatest essential is ice, which can't be obtained here".

"Slept last night without mosquito net and with a blanket. The first time since leaving Port Said".

"Everybody ashore beginning to panic as rumours come in that Ho Chen has got it in the neck from the Reds and they're again advancing on the city. We take all necessary steps for a rapid evacuation".

"Panic continues and we have a stream of callers all day. What they'd do without a gunboat to fly to, the Lord only knows. I'll bet they never stop to consider who is paying for all the refreshments they consume when they're on board. Soldiers are commandeering all the junks and sampans, all ready to make a quick getaway. Muriel's letters are the only things which preserve my sanity. It's amazing to think of peaceful old England. It will be Utopia after this".

"Evacuation continues. Sampans must be making a fortune transporting people across to the mainland. Rather trying collecting the nuns and missionaries. A Japanese steamer arrived and I had to chase her and collect a couple more missionaries. They're a damn nuisance. By refusing to obey our orders they imperil a good number of lives. They'd come running quickly enough when it was too late and we'd stand a good chance of getting it in the neck.

"Soldiers are crossing the river in droves, occasionally loosing off their rifles for no particular reason. About a dozen heads chopped off today for spreading rumours. A fat lot of good that will do".

"The general exodus continues but not so panicky. Hundreds of defeated soldiers crossed the river this evening, most of them in rags, and many wounded hobbling and crawling along".

"Reinforcements arrived from Hankow which has stiffened the soldiers' morale. Ten thousand Reds reported to be in Siangtan, about 15 miles up river. Had a very disturbed night. Many squeeters about and my net has gone to the wash" "About 100 Reds executed in the town today, one a woman. She was a Communist agent and was offering herself to all who would become recruits. Finished the Good Companions. A truly ripping book".

"Reported soldiers and Reds very short of rifles and new units being armed with spears! Aeroplanes dropping the odd bomb on Reds with probably no effect. The bombs don't often bust and will only cause damage if they drop on a chap's head. Quartermaster caught the wardroom boys gambling this afternoon and ran them in. I fined them a dollar apiece".

"Heavy firing last night. The Reds made a determined attack on the city but had no luck. Terrific gang of gin crawlers on board today. Blast them. This was the only disturbing note in otherwise very quiet day".

"Curry tiffin today. Skipper paid for most of it. Cricket match v HMS Gannet. They won by 25 runs after a very good game".

Hot stuff at Chinese

"Am concentrating on the language. My boy, whose name is Wu, thinks I'm hot stuff and is tickled to death when I address him in Chinese".

"Small piece of excitement after dinner. Junk laden with petrol caught fire abreast of us and drifted down river. Crew ditched the petrol and then themselves. We got a line into her and towed her to the beach to burn out".

In October the Cockchafer moved to Hankow and the First Lieutenant was delighted to greet a new skipper. The old one threw a farewell curry tiffin and pushed off home. The Journal records: "It nearly makes me weep to think that in two months' time he will be only a few miles from Muriel".

They were under weigh again and came under fire. "Rather an amusing day. Fired on just below Mopanshin from the left bank by a stovepipe gun. Nothing came anywhere near us but we let them have it with HE from the 3-inch which must have been distinctly unpleasant. Again, just below Sauchiwan they waited until we went past and then let off their drainpipe. We went back and blew up their gun and set fire to the house nearby. Very good shooting. Touched bottom going across from Chanmado Bluff. No damage".

"Under weigh. Many Red flags at Hosueh. Spotted a gun under a triumphal arch surmounted by a Red flag. This was too much, so demolished it with two rounds of 3-inch".

Then follows day after day of social calls and excursions, the reception and long drawn out entertainment of a Government minister, Sir Miles Lampson, shooting parties (one day's bag was "52 pheasants, a couple of deer and several hares and oddments" ) and frenzied soccer matches.

Later in the year Cockchafer docked in Shanghai for a refit having to avoid "hundreds of sampans which seemed bent on committing suicide on our bows"

Christmas in Shanghai was "very dull" with the ship in "a frightful mess" and "I doubt if she'll ever look like a ship again".

Then the weather deteriorated. "Freezing hard all day. Twenty degrees below. No cars to be obtained. Half the cars in Shanghai have burst their radiators".

Cockchafer left Shanghai late in January, and in bitter weather - heavy rain, dense fog, gales and snowstorms - proceeded in turn to Woosung, Chinkiang, Wuhu, Kinkiang, Hankow, Kienli, Hosuen and Ichang.

"Strong currents and shallow water held us back. Hit China a hearty crack just above Sanchewan. Bumped over successfully and ploughed on".

"Saw a few burning villages today, also the usual bobbing heads in trenches and waving of red flags".

"Saw a large body of Nationalist troops in the vicinity of Tufted Hill and later learned they had captured it. Not much effort required there because our gunboats had shot it to bits".

Hankow. "After dinner Doc and I went to movies. Saw Clara Bow in 'Love Among the Millionaires'. Far away the poorest film I've ever seen".

Changsha. "No leave today. The extremists have announced their intention of killing all foreigners to embarrass the Nationalist Government, an extremely remote possibility having heard of things like that before".

"Taken for a walk, and before we were aware of the fact, found ourselves in the midst of a bunch of fervent missionaries at the Bible Institute, where we had to suffer spiritual uplift for a couple of hours, a most ghastly business. I'm all in favour of missionaries in China since this happening. It ensures at least that these awful specimens of the human race are kept away from England".

Friday, May 1, 1931. "Been on the river exactly one year. Shall be more pleased a year hence".

"HM Cruiser Suffolk arrived. Mosquitoes very active tonight".

A slight case of typhoid

Chunking. "Had hell of a night. Staying in bed today. Feeling very rotten indeed".

"Doc gave me a shot of morphia. Dragon Boat Festival in full swing".

"Doc drew off a quart or so of my gore and sent it off to the city for test".

"Blood returned - positive typhoid. Good job I was innoculated. Condemned to creep about now for a couple of weeks. Staple diet cod liver oil".

Ichang. "Thumping great rise in river reported from Chunking. Thirty feet last night".

"River still rising...doing about eight knots now".

"Still raining like hell and river running like a mill pond. Procession of capsized sampans passing down river. Hear there are about 2,000 sampans in the streets of Hankow!"

"Water well over the bund in Ichang and into the Customs compound. Much debris coming down in the shape of odd houses and the contents thereof".

"Country a pathetic sight. Floods as far as one can see, and odd groups squatting on a few square feet of mud surrounded by miles of water".

"Navigation very difficult. Lost the river at one stage and found ourselves going overland. Terrific rain".

"River an amazingly pretty sight tonight with thousands of floating lights and lantern hung junks putting up joss for the drowned spirits".

"Weather fair. Consul and Mrs. on board to tiffin and dinner, their cook having dysentery and No, 1 Boy deserted. Heard today Cantonese troops advancing through Hunan towards Changsha".

"Cantonese a bit nearer, and Ho Chin's loyal troops going over in droves. He himself proposes to offer no resistance and depart to Hankow when the time is ripe. His only regret being the floods there!"

An awful pay cut

"Received the awful news of reduction in pay. I lose 19%. How the hell am I to carry on after leaving this job God alone knows".

"Received news of the clash between the Japs and Chinese at Mukden. Cantonese and Kwangsi people have packed up and gone home".

"Received an unintelligible cypher message from C-in-C instructing strict neutrality in case of ructions between Chinese and Japs".

"Better news about pay. No revision to 1925 rates. A 10% drop instead".

Hankow. "Dined in HMS Hermes. Met several old shipmates there. Saw Lindberg's plane. He arrived during the afternoon and had his machine hoisted for an overhaul".

The next day. "Lindberg's plane smashed up in Hermes. He went ahead before slings were undone and capsized the whole outfit. Pestered by millions and millions of mosquitoes".

"A miserable day. Blowing like hell and we're crashing and banging on the pontoon. The river is strewn with wrecked junks and sampans".

Kinkiang. "Glorious day. Got one deer, 2 1/2 brace pheasant and 1 pigeon in two hours".

Nanking. "Harbour full of warships, including three Jap cruisers. Had to sack Wu today, he having contracted a distressing disease. Very sorry to lose him"

"Sacked the Captain's boy for being darned rude to me".

"Bagged 15 duck before breakfast. Hear that China is declaring war on Monday".

"Time is dragging like hell. The Doc is nearly dotty and has only just finished his first year".

"Went out to Ming Tombs with Skipper. Passed a couple of thousand Shanghai students on their way to see Chiang Kai Shek, demanding war. Awful crowd of warts. A handful of London bobbies would scatter the lot".

Shanghai for refit. "The last Christmas away from M. thank God. To the movies after dinner and saw Marie Dressler in 'Politics'. Damned good".

"Upper deck flooded with oil fuel today. That and awnings which don't fit nearly broke my heart. Nerves all shot to bits".

"Ship gradually beginning to take shape, although the filth is appalling".

"Today's entry should be in red ink. The great news arrived of my relief. Very light-headed in consequence. The refit is going beautifully. Had a grill at the club and then to the movies".

"Letter writing in afternoon punctuated by a colossal explosion. Two Chinese ammunition lighters blown up".

"Tense atmosphere owing to the Japanese ultimatum to the Mayor of Greater Shanghai".

"All hands busy washing off the mud to discover the ship underneath".

"Everybody very nervy, the Jap ultimatum expiring at 6 pm and the Settlement full of warriors in battle bowlers. State of emergency declared. Lorry loads of armed Japs whizzing in all directions and the river full of their destroyers and cruisers. No leave given today".

January 29. "Roused at midnight by the sound of battle, the Japs having commenced operations and advanced into Chapir. Firing continued during the day and seaplanes bombed the North Station. Thousands of refugees pouring into the Settlement . Fairly heavy casualties on both sides, the Chinese being much the heavier. A truce declared at 20.00 owing to intervention by British and American authorities".

"Ordered to meet troopship Lancashire at Woosung in case the forts fired at them in play. Intercepted signal to HMS Aphis ordering her to Nanking. Four Jap destroyers passed up river.

"Owing to Chinese scrapping at Harbin, all mails have to go and come by Suez. Blast! Panic at Hankow. Twenty thousand Reds reported massing a few miles outside city. Heard firing from Nanking direction".

Chingkiang. "Boarded Jap destroyer. Learned that Nanking blowup was caused by rifles being fired at the Jap cruiser Hiroto who replied with her guns".

"Three inches of snow. Damn cold. Fighting continues in Shanghai. All quiet here".

"Arrived Nanking. It is definitely established that the Chinese fired first at Woosung. They got what they asked for. Nanking is plastered with ships of all nationalities, chiefly Japanese. The Chinese navy is hiding".

"Heavy fall of snow. Every Jap destroyer passing Woosung village plants a couple of bricks but the forts are still in Chinese hands".

"More snow. Enjoyed myself writing a screed on 'how it is done' to present to my successor on his arrival. Woosung is periodically bombarded but remains undefeated. Jap gunnery must be rotten".

Sorry, Skipper drunk!

"Jap destroyer arrived. Boarded her and found them all tight, but the No.1, a decent sort of chap, apologised for his Skipper being drunk. He told me they were all fed up with the scrapping. Weather very fine today, so slapped some paint on the ship's side".

"Chinese have dropped some bricks on Broadway and the Hangkow Wharf in Shangai, wounding two of HMS Suffolk's sentries, one of whom died. Bad luck".

"Battle is in full swing away from the Settlement. The Japs are having a hard time of it owing to the hordes of Chinese against them, also the difficult country which is a network of creeks".

"Dressed ship today. George Washington's bath night or something".

March 3 "Glorious weather. Shot 5 duck and 2 geese. Arrived Nanking. Chinese OOG (Officer of Guard) assured me that Japanese were all running away".

"Proceeded to Hogee. Flogged a golf ball up and down a strip of dried mud. Chinese imagine they have won great victory and are letting off rifles in all directions".

March 7, 1932. "Left England two years ago today".

There are no further entries about the war, and the days that pass until Peter Behague's departure to England to join his beloved Muriel are full of remarks about the weather, duck shoots, tiffin parties, maintenance work, acid comments about civilian "gannets", and banditry.

Hankow. May 30. "The great day at last. Said goodbye to Hankow. HMS Kent, Scarab and Ladybird cheered as we passed with paying-off pendant streaming out astern. A marvellous feeling going down river for the last time. C-in-C came on board just before we sailed to say goodbye".

The First Lietenant then said farewell to his friends on Cockchafer and joined HMS Canterbury homeward bound via Hong Kong, Singapore and ports westward.

Plymouth. August 4. "The day! Passed the breakwater at 0607 and anchored in the Sound. The whirl of excitement commences, and this will probably be the last entry in this melancholy record".

Looking back, his daughter Ann reckoned it took quite a while to become accustomed to this strange man who'd come to live with her mother. But more adventures were in store, and when he left for the Far East again, his family happily accompanied him.

Then came the war, with awards for courage, skill and gallantry, then promotion to the rank of Captain. But that is another, much longer story.

Captain Peter Behague's daughter, Ann, now lives in Western Australia, a part of the world that her father came to love. She is married to a mariner, Captain Alistair Cuthbert. Together they have endeavoured to get Captain Behague's memorable journals published. Alas, there now seems little interest in old sailors' stories, or those of old airmen for that matter!