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It was an orderly mutiny. There was no violence. Sailors simply refused to obey orders. They would not stand watch. They would not even man the launches. Those much maligned warriors the Royal Marines had to ferry Rear Admiral Tomkinson ashore to answer a hurried summons to London. The 12,000 sailors in Cromarty Firth worked off their energy by community singing, not "The Red Flag" but their own old ballad, "The Frothblowers' Anthem." Hour after hour the refrain rang out:
The more we are together, together, together,
The more we are together
The merrier we will be;
For your friends are my friends
And my friends are your friends.
The more we are together
The merrier we will be.
Officers pacing the bridges in their brown kid gloves developed quite a distaste for it.
The Ancient Order of Frothblowers is a semi-charitable organization of beer drinkers enormously popular in the Navy. Dues are five shillings a year, payable in advance. Most of the money is given to charity. Members receive a pair of blue-enameled cuff buttons engraved with the initials F. B. Female members receive a bracelet with an F. B. tag. Because it seems ungallant to the British mind to speak of Lady Frothblowers, the female members are known as Fairy Belles.
Reporters realized last week that it was the Fairy Belles more than the sailors who were responsible for the mutiny of Cromarty Firth. Said a leader aboard the battle cruiser Hood:
"We are fighting for our wives and children. The cuts cannot hit us aboard ship, but our wives, after the rent is paid, have only a pound left. How can they stand a cut of seven shillings and sixpence?"
London. Parliament was in a turmoil. One blustering Tory buttonholed First Lord of the Admiralty Sir Austen Chamberlain in the corridor and swore that the only way to uphold the Navy's prestige was to hang the mutineers' leaders, and if need be scuttle the ships! Sir Austen glared through his monocle and passed into the Chamber. There he calmly announced that the battle practice had been suspended and the warships ordered to return to their home ports. And he concluded: ''His Majesty's Government have authorized the Board of Admiralty to make proposals for alleviating hardships."
The London Press carried potent news. The mutiny was spreading. In the island of Malta the air force showed discontentment over pay cuts. At Gibraltar the Mediterranean Squadron was plainly restless. At Rosyth on the Firth of Forth sailors filed long lists of complaints. The army was placid; although, according to James Chuter Ede, Laborite M. P., privates must suffer a pay cut of some 27% and majors only a scant 4%. British policemen were none too steady. Fortunately the mutineers were as anxious to assert their loyalty to George V as they were to save their families from the breadlines. The Laborite Daily Herald printed a message from the fleet:
"We, the loyal subjects of His Majesty the King, do hereby present. ... It is evident to all concerned that these cuts are a forerunner of tragedy, misery and immorality among the families of the lower deck. . . . We still remain as one unit in refusing to serve under the new rates of pay."