Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

A fine Battle of Jutland group of seven awarded to Rear-Admiral R. S. MacFarlan, Royal Navy, who had ‘a miraculous escape’ in the torpedo control tower of H.M.S. Warspite, when that much battered battleship received yet another hit: he was subsequently mentioned in despatches, promoted and awarded the Russian Order of St. Anne

Queen’s South Africa 1899-1902, 1 clasp, Cape Colony (Midsn., R.N., H.M.S. Niobe), an official duplicate issue; 1914-15 Star (Lt. Commr., R.N.); British War and Victory Medals, M.I.D. oak leaf (Commr., R.N.), surname spelt ‘MacFarlane’; Defence and War Medals; Russian Order of St. Anne, 3rd class breast badge, with swords, gold and enamel, with ‘BA’ mark, obverse enamel on the left arm of the latter chipped, otherwise generally good very fine (7) £1800-2200

Robert Stedman MacFarlan, who was born at Ruthwell, near Dumfries-shire in August 1881, was appointed a Midshipman in December 1897, in which rank he served aboard H.M.S. Niobe in the Boer War, and qualified for the clasp ‘Cape Colony’. Fortunate to survive a fracture to the base of his skull ‘while playing leap frog’ in 1908, ‘the gravity of the case rendering his removal from the ship as a matter of vital importance’, MacFarlan was serving as a Lieutenant-Commander aboard the battleship Audacious on the outbreak of hostilities in August 1914. A Dictionary of Disasters at Sea takes up the story: ‘The battleship Audacious was the first capital ship of any nation to become a casualty in the First World War. She was a unit of the 2nd Battle Squadron and was commanded by Captain C. F. Dampier. On the morning of 27 October 1914, when steaming in line ahead some 20 miles N.E. of Tory Island, Northern Ireland, preparatory to engaging in squadron target practice, the Audacious struck a mine. The damaged battleship, which had been struck on the port side aft, managed to keep afloat and made for Lough Swilly under her own steam. The sea was very rough and later the Audacious became quite unmanageable. In this plight she was approached by the White Star liner Olympic and taken in tow. The towline parted and another attempt was made, this time by the collier Thornhill, but with the same result. Later the battleship Exmouth arrived on the scene, but too late to be of assistance as the stern of the Audacious was awash and her crew were being taken off by the Olympic. At 9 p.m., after 12 hours of buffeting by the seas the battleship blew up and sank. Everyone of her complement of 900 officers and men was taken off in safety. It was afterwards discovered that the mines had been laid by the Norddeutscher Lloyd liner Berlin, which had been fitted out as an auxiliary cruiser and minelayer early in August.’

While winning the approbation of his captain for his ‘work in getting out the boats’, MacFarlan undoubtedly lost his Queen’s South Africa Medal on the same occasion. He was next appointed, in January 1915, to the battleship Warspite, and was still serving in her at the time of the battle of Jutland. On that memorable occasion, as part of the 5th Battle Squadron, Warspite was hit by no less than 13 ‘large projectiles’, several of them when her helm jammed and forced her out of line, right in the face of incoming enemy fire. Notwithstanding this heavy punishment, and the resultant fatalities and wounded, she managed to fire around 250 shells from her 15-inch guns. A very full account of her experiences, written by her Executive Officer, appears in The Fighting at Jutland (together with an impressive series of “battle-damage” photographs), from which the following extracts have been taken: ‘ ... Went on the upper deck and had a look round. Main derrick was shot through and lying across the picket boat, mainmast holed by a 6-inch, and boats all smashed to atoms. Compass platform was riddled by splinters. Big hole starboard side by 6-inch gun, which we covered over with a collision mat and nailed down. Tried to “darken ship” as best we could, but the holes everywhere made this rather hopeless; plugged them with canvas and deck cloths. A 12-inch shell had hit the communication tube of the after director tower, sheared all rivets, and spun the tube through 180 degrees, but only one man was killed and two wounded in the tower above - rather miraculous [the scene of MacFarlan’s lucky escape]. “X” turret had a direct hit, looked like an 8-inch, but no damage whatever inside; in fact, they did not know they had been hit. The boats were a comic sight; launch absolutely smashed to blazes, all Carley rafts except two small ones broken up, and no sound boat left. First picket boat had just been painted, too, and new brass rails round casings were all cut to pieces. Both ladders to quarter deck had gone, and both life buoys blown away by blast from “Y” turret. All mainstays had been shot through except one the starboard side. Searchlights had not suffered very badly, except those on the after-superstructure; they were like scrap iron. There were many holes on the quarter deck, rather death-traps. Where the shell hit the deck, planks and fastenings were removed as cleanly as if they were shovelled away, in several places over an area of 10 or 12 square feet ... We had not time before the action to strip the sick-bay, and a 12-inch had come clean through from port to starboard, completely wrecking sick-bay, which was in an awful state of confusion, due to fire and water, chemicals, broken glass, etc. Having got this fire out, went and saw fleet surgeon, who was very busy in fore distributing station. Large numbers of burnt men were in a dreadful state ... By this time one felt one wanted something inside, so repaired to the ward-room; found they had got some food of sorts going, sardines and tinned tongue; everybody was very cheery. A funny hit here; 6-inch shell had come through ward-room table, making a clean round hole, dented deck, and gone through other side, having wrecked stove, armchair and piano. We hope to sell piano for a good price as a souvenir, although it has no inside left, but the outside is all right ... ’



MacFarlan duly appeared in Admiral Jellicoe’s despatch of 15 July 1916, being recommended for immediate promotion in the following terms: ‘This officer’s coolness, ability and resource, especially after he had had a miraculous escape in the torpedo control tower, was most praiseworthy, and the fact that very few communications and lighting failed is entirely due to this officer’s work both before and during the action.’

His advancement to Commander was confirmed in the London Gazette of 15 September 1916, while the award of his Russian Order of St. Anne appeared in the same publication on 5 June 1917. Meanwhile, he continued to serve aboard the Warspite, and did not come ashore - to an appointment in the gunnery establishment Vernon - until 1918.

In the mid-1920s, MacFarlan commanded the Carlisle on the China Station, and received the appreciation of Their Lordships for his ‘services in connection with the presentation of an ultimatum to Chinese Generals to cease interference with foreign shipping at Taku’. And in the early 1930s he served as Vice-Chairman of the Chemical Warfare Committee, being advanced to Rear-Admiral and appointed an A.D.C. to the King in February 1934. He was placed on the Retired List in the same year, having latterly acted as Captain Superintendent of Sheerness Dockyard.

On the renewal of hostilities, MacFarlan was appointed a Commodore 2nd Class, R.N.R., for convoy duty, but, on being found unfit for service at sea, he joined a Selection Committee for assessing candidates for the Fleet Air Arm. The Admiral retired to Alverstoke, Hampshire and died there in November 1960.