The Memoirs of Admiral Lord Beresford

In every vessel there are improvements to be made which, perhaps trifling in themselves, greatly add to the welfare of the officers and ship's company. At that time, for instance, the arrangements for the stokers were so bad, that there was only one bath available for twenty men. My recommendation was that tubs of galvanised iron should be supplied, fitting one into another in nests, so that the extra baths occupied less space than the one regulation bath. I also had lockers of lattice-work supplied for the stokers' dirty clothing, instead of closed and insanitary lockers. It is true that at first the men objected to the open-work, because their pipes dropped through it. Again, the hatchway ladders were made with sharp nosings, against which the men injured their legs; and I suggested that these should be formed with rounded nosings instead. A ship of war is naturally uncomfortable; but why make it unnecessarily disagreeable? At that time, too, the rate of second-class petty officer did not exist among the stokers. The result was that if a leading stoker was disrated he was reduced to stoker. For this reason, I urged the institution of the rate of second-class petty officer stoker, a reform which was eventually instituted. Some years afterwards, the rate of second-class officer was abolished altogether, a retrograde measure which I believe to be injurious.

When a petty officer loses his rate in consequence of a mistake or a lapse, he should be enabled to recover it by good behaviour.

One of my countrymen on board, whom we will call Patrick, an able seaman of long service, perpetually failed to attain to the rating of petty officer owing to his weakness for strong waters. In other respects he was admirably qualified to rise. I sent for him, told him I would give him a chance, and made him a second-class petty officer. I believe that he succumbed once or twice, and that the commander let him off. But one fine day Patrick returned on board from leave ashore, fully attired – cap, coat, boots and socks – with the single exception of his trousers. The case having been officially reported to me, I had up the delinquent before the assembled petty officers. I made it a rule not to disrate a petty officer in the presence of the ship's company.

The charge having been duly read, I asked Patrick what he had to say on the subject.

"Do you moind now, sir," says Pat, "that I was drunk the same day last year?"

I told him I did not remember anything of the sort.

"Well, sir," continued Patrick, unabashed, "to tell you the truth, 'tis my mother's birthday, and I had a drop of drink taken."

I told him that it was impossible to allow petty officers to disgrace the ship by coming on board without their trousers; that I should take away his petty officer's rate, but that I would leave him his badges.

He had three badges. Had he lost them, he would have lost his badge pay during a period of six months for each badge, so that it would take him eighteen months of "very good" conduct to regain them. In addition, he would have lost the good conduct medal, a part of his pension and a part of his gratuity on leaving the Service. The severity of the punishment in comparison with what is not perhaps a serious offence, is not always recognised by authority.

"May I say a word to you, sir?" asked Patrick, having received his sentence.

"You can say what you like," said I, "but I am afraid it won't save your rate."

"Well, sir," says he, "'tis this way, sir. If you'll think over it the way it is, I was fourteen years getting th' rate, and you'll be takin' it away from me in one moment."

Pat used to delight his audiences at the ship's concerts. He sang among other beautiful legends, the Irish ditty, "Brannagan's Pup." He led upon the stage my bull-dog, who came very sulkily. It never could be (as Pat would have said) that the concertina accompaniment began when he began. When the concertina started ahead of him, Pat shifted the bull-dog's leash to his other hand, put his hand to the side of his mouth, and staring straight upon the audience, uttered the following stage direction in a furious whisper which was heard all over the ship.

"Don't you shtart that ruddy pump till I hould up me hand!"

Some years after I had left the Undaunted, arriving in a P. and O. steamer off a Chinese port, I semaphored to a man-of-war asking the captain to send me a boat, as I wished to have the pleasure of calling upon him. The coxswain of the captain's boat was no other than my old friend.

"I'm very glad to see you've kept the rate," said I. "I suppose you run straight now and keep clear of liquor?"

"Well, sir," says Paddy, "to tell you the truth, I've taken an odd toss or two since I saw you, but I've got it back again!"

He meant that he had been disrated again once or twice but had won back his rate again; indeed, he had won it back while under my command. I always told my men that if they were tried by court-martial – as the men now desire to be tried – it would go harder with them. Had Patrick been tried by court-martial, it is very unlikely that he would have got back his rate; and his deprivation, being endorsed upon his certificate, would have affected his chance of gaining employment in civil life upon leaving the Service.

I had a case of a man who, because he put his helm over the wrong way, ran into another boat, with the result that a man was drowned. The culprit was disrated; but I gave him his rate again before I left the ship. It is the personal knowledge of a man possessed by his captain which alone enables his captain to make distinctions. A court-martial must judge of the offence without personal knowledge of the character of the offender.

I had a sergeant of Marines, a man with an excellent record, a strict disciplinarian, popular among his men, who, within nine months of the expiration of his time, came aboard blind drunk and disorderly. The penalty was to be reduced to the ranks. But it is often forgotten what under such circumstances that penalty involves. The non-commissioned officer loses his N.C.O.'s time and pension, his badge pay for six months, and the gratuity of his rank. It is a tremendous penalty to pay, when, except for the one mistake, he has a clean sheet all through. I had the man up before the petty officers and non-commissioned officers, explained that there were only two courses of action: either to reduce him or to let him off altogether; and told them that I intended to count his long and excellent service and exemplary character as outweighing a single failure.

Here was an exceptional case; and because it was exceptional, it was wise to depart from the rule, and to give reasons for disciplinary action. Had no explanation been given, the next man disrated or reduced might have considered that he had been unfairly treated; but he could have no such grievance, when the circumstances in which the non-commissioned officer had his punishment remitted had been made known at the time.

Ships, like men, have their weaknesses; and the weakness of our fine new steam navy consisted in the unprotected ends of our armoured vessels, in which respect they were inferior to the French ships. The section of a wooden man-of-war was, roughly speaking, V-shaped below the water-line; and when she was pierced in action, the water entering through the shot-holes ran down to the bottom of the vessel, where the extra weight, although it might sink her lower in the water, acted as additional ballast, resisting any tendency to capsize. But the section of a steel man-of-war is roughly a square, with the lower edges rounded. The protective steel deck, covering the engines, extends the whole length and width of the ship. Above the water-line there are the immense weights of armour and guns. If the ship is pierced in her unprotected ends above the steel deck, the water, entering through the holes, is held high up in the section, giving her a list, and dragging her over, so that a badly wounded ship must capsize. Such was my theory, which I set forth at length in a letter sent to the commander-in-chief, Sir Anthony Hoskins. He considered the point of importance, but held that it was a matter rather for the constructor than the seaman, a view with which I did not agree.

Sir Anthony Hoskins, who was about to haul down his flag, turned the letter over to Sir George Tryon, who sent it to the Admiralty. The Admiralty, I believe, considered that, under certain conditions, the theory was correct.

Those conditions occurred on 22nd June, 1893, when the Victoria was rammed by the Camperdown off Beyrout. The Camperdown struck the flagship on the starboard bow, and in ten minutes she had capsized and sunk. As the Victoria was carrying her scuttles open, and received an injury equivalent to the damage which would be inflicted by a large shell, the conditions of an action, in which the hull would be pierced with many small holes and further wounded by heavy projectiles, were produced, with the result whose probability, if not certainty, I had indicated.

In dealing with this subject, I also represented that the French ships of the period, having a powerful fore and aft fire, might choose in time of war to fight a retreating action, in which case they could so damage the unarmoured ends of our vessels, that our vessels could not be steered, and, being forced to ease speed, would be placed at a serious disadvantage.

The Hecla, torpedo school ship in the Mediterranean, was commanded by my old friend, Captain John Durnford (now Admiral Sir John Durnford, K.C.B., D.S.O.). Together with the officers under my command, I attended the torpedo classes on board.

Captain Durnford accompanied me in the Undaunted when we conducted experiments in the dropping of mines. The mines were the clever invention of Lieutenant Ottley (now Rear-Admiral Sir Charles C. Ottley, K.C.M.G., C.B., M.V.O.). By means of an ingenious mechanical contrivance, they sank themselves to the required depth. We designed and constructed the dropping gear, rigging it abaft the propellers. The mines were dropped by hand, the ship steaming at 18 knots. A certain area was fixed within which the mines were to be sown. We steamed across it at night, in thick darkness, along a narrow channel. Unable to take bearings, as the position of the scattered lights on shore was unknown, we sent out two boats carrying lights. We touched the ground once, the shock throwing Captain Durnford and myself against the rail. In four minutes all the mines were dropped without a single mistake. The experiment was also carried into execution in daylight. In those days there were no mine-laying vessels, and the Undaunted was somewhat of a pioneer in the science of mining waters at full speed.

My experience while in office at the Admiralty had led me profoundly to suspect (among other things) the adequacy of the provision for reserve ammunition. And upon making inquiries at Malta, I found that if the Undaunted in the event of war had expended the whole of her ammunition, the renewal of the supply for her main armament of 6-inch guns would (excluding practice ammunition) exhaust the whole reserve supply. There were no spare guns in reserve at all. My representations on the subject were by no means gratefully received by the Admiralty, which considered that the supply of reserve ammunition and guns was not the business of a captain. I suggested that the ammunition papers should go to every captain; an arrangement which was afterwards carried into execution. At this time I also represented (but in other quarters) the urgent necessity of building a new mole at Gibraltar, which was then not a naval but a military base, although in time of war it would be required to serve as one of the most important naval bases in the world, either for the blue water route or the narrow sea route. My representations were made with the object of inducing the Government to transform Gibraltar from a merely military fortress to a properly equipped naval base. I took soundings and drew out a scheme. The plan eventually adopted was an improvement upon mine.

It is not of course implied that I was alone in urging these reforms and such as these; there were many patriotic men, both in the Service and outside it, who were engaged in the same endeavour. What I did must be taken to represent the unrequited labours of others as well. Sir George Tryon, my commander-in-chief, that splendid seaman and admirable officer, was always most sympathetic and showed to me the greatest kindness. I am proud to say that I never served under a commander-in-chief with whom I was not upon the best of terms.

Sir George Tryon having received letters from H.H. the Khedive and from the British Minister Plenipotentiary in Egypt, instructed me to proceed to Alexandria with a small squadron. H.H. the Khedive welcomed me with great cordiality, being so kind as to say that I had saved his father's life during the troubles of 1882, when the Condor kept guard over the Ramleh Palace. I remained at Alexandria for some time, being senior officer there.

In order to relieve the monotony of sea-routine, the men were landed by companies in the Mex lines, a place with which I had many interesting associations dating from 1882, for rifle practice, sleeping under canvas. The water on shore being undrinkable, the men were ordered to use the distilled water supplied daily from the ship.

Visiting the hospital tent, I thought one of the patients had cholera.

"It looks very like it," said the staff-surgeon.

"Have you been drinking the shore water?" I asked the patient.

He confessed that he had. I asked him why he had done so.

"Please, sir," said he, "the distilled water had no taste in it."

Having arranged with my old friend, Sir William Butler, commanding the garrison at Alexandria, to combine with the soldiers in field exercise, I took a landing-party ashore at Ras-el-Tin. We started early in the morning, embarking the field-guns. The seamen waded ashore with them, and attacked a position held by the soldiers on the top of the hill. It looked impregnable, the ground being a steep, sandy slope covered with scrub. But the bluejackets dragged the guns up through the sand and bushes. We battled all the morning with great enjoyment; returned on board, and shifted into dry clothes in time for dinner. The benefit of such exercises is that all learn something.

In July, 1891, was held at Alexandria the great regatta, in which 26 boats of all classes were entered, including a cutter from the Portuguese sloop Fieja and Arab boats. It was on this occasion that the galley of the Undaunted ran upon the breakwater, was knocked into smithereens, and sank. By an extraordinary coincidence, she was an old boat which the Admiralty had persistently refused to replace.

Upon leaving Alexandria, the Undaunted touched a rock. We had been helping the contractor to blow up the rocks in the Borghiz Channel (a proceeding for which I was subsequently reproved) and left the harbour steering by stern marks. The staff-commander knew exactly where he was going, but by a slip of the tongue he gave the order "port" instead of "starboard," adding that he wanted to close certain buoys marking the passage. The injury to the ship was very slight, but peculiar. Her bottom was pierced, and a little fish swam into the ship. I have the fish with a small piece broken off the keel by the impact, in a bottle.

In December, 1891, the second annual regatta of the Mediterranean Fleet was held in Marmorice Bay. In the officers' race, I pulled stroke in the galley of the Undaunted, in spite of Sir George Tryon's kindly warning that my heart would give way. We beat the Australia's boat by about two seconds. In the next race, held the following year, the Australia beat us.

There were seventeen ships on the station, and 9000 men. The Undaunted won 22 prizes (12 of them, I think, first prizes) out of 29. All her ratings were regularly practised in all her boats, each boat racing against the other. In order to equalise chances, the boats started in rotation, the time allowance being given at the start, instead of being calculated at the end as in yacht racing, so that the boat first across the line at the end of the course won the race. The launch, being the heaviest boat, started last, manned with four men to the midship oars, three men to the after oars, and two men to the foremost oars. The boats would often all come in together. The enthusiasm of the men was immense. At that time the island of Crete was in a state of chronic agitation, which culminated in the troubles of 1897, and their suppression by the Council of Admirals, of which Admiral Sir Robert H. Harris, who represented Great Britain with so great ability and resource, gives an excellent account in his book, From Naval Cadet to Admiral. In the meantime, Christians and Mohammedans were joyfully shooting one another, while the Turkish garrison endeavoured to keep order by shooting both parties impartially. Riding up from Suda Bay to call upon a certain distinguished Turkish Pasha, an old friend, I passed several corpses, both of Christians and Mohammedans, lying on the roadside.

"Cannot you stop these murders?" I said to the Pasha. "It is really very distressing to see so many dead bodies."

"Yes, Lord," said the Pasha (he always called me Lord). "Very sad, Lord. I am sure you must feel it very much, Lord. It must make you think you are back in your own country."

The retort was apposite enough, for moonlighting was then the joy of Ireland.

Not that the Turkish soldiers neglected musketry practice. Riding up to Canea, I was met by bullets whistling past my head. I pulled off the road, and was joined by an old Turk, who was riding a donkey and carrying a large white umbrella. Presently we perceived a pot placed in the middle of the highway, and then we came upon a party of Turkish soldiers lying in a row and firing at it; whereupon the aged Turk climbed from his donkey, rolled up his umbrella, and belaboured the soldiers with it.

I once asked my friend the Pasha why he had not ere then been promoted.

"I do not know, Lord. The Government does not know. God Almighty does not know. Even his Imperial Majesty the Sultan does not know!" quoth the Pasha.

The Undaunted visited Sorrento in 1891, when Lord Dufferin was staying there. None who had the privilege of his acquaintance will need to be reminded of the singular charm of a talented, witty and urbane personality. Lord Dufferin had the unconscious art of impressing upon those whom he met that he had been waiting all his life for that moment. The small sailing yacht, Lady Hermione, which he kept at Sorrento, was a marvel of ingenious contrivance. She was a decked boat, with a well into which the ropes and gear were led and were attached to all sorts of levers, tackles and winches, to enable her to be sailed single-handed. Lord Dufferin, accompanied by Lady Dufferin, frequently sailed her in the Bay of Naples. On one such voyage, wishing to tauten up the peak halliards, he told Lady Dufferin to heave upon a certain lever. She seized the wrong handle, and away went the anchor with 130 fathoms of chain, which ran out to the clinch. Then the rest of the equipment became really useful, Lord Dufferin rigging up purchase on purchase with it, and so heaving up the anchor. After four hours' incessant toil he succeeded in getting it berthed, and returned in a state of exhaustion.

The Lady Hermione persuaded Lord Dufferin to learn Morse and semaphore. She was moored at the foot of the cliff, beneath Lord Dufferin's hotel, from whose balcony he used to shout his orders for the day to the boy who was in charge of her, and who often misunderstood his instructions. I suggested that he should learn to communicate with his ship's company by signal, and drew up both the Morse and semaphore codes for his benefit. In six weeks he sent letters to me written in both codes; an instance of determined application. During that time he insisted on practising for so many hours every day with his wife and daughter, so that at the end of it the whole family were proficient in signals.

An interesting example of the manoeuvres of those days occurred at Volo, when Captain Wilson, V.C., disguised his ship, the Sanspareil, in olive trees. The Undaunted was told off to make a torpedo attack at night in the narrow channel where lay the Sanspareil. Captain Wilson (now Admiral of the Fleet Sir A. K. Wilson, V.C., G.C.B., O.M., G.C.V.O.) had constructed a dummy ship on the side of the channel opposite to which lay the Sanspareil, completely clothed in olive trees. I sent a midshipman to cut the cable of the searchlight playing upon the entrance to the channel. The Undaunted steamed into the channel, discovered first the wrong ship, and then the right one, at which I discharged two torpedoes, which were found next morning under the bottom of the Sanspareil.

At the conclusion of all manoeuvres, Sir George Tryon invariably gave a critical lecture upon them to his officers; a method which I adopted in later years. No practice can be more useful; for, while the events are fresh in mind, it demonstrates what was wrong, and why. Often what looks wrong at first, turns out to have been a good idea. But for years all reports of manoeuvres remained locked in the Admiralty. Many of the manoeuvres were useless; but for lack of information admirals afloat continued to repeat them.

During my time in the Undaunted, my knowledge of signalling saved Captain Harry Rawson (afterwards Vice-Admiral Sir H. H. Rawson, K.C.B.) and myself a deal of trouble on one occasion. We had been out shooting all day, had missed the way, and as darkness fell, found ourselves on the wrong side of the bay in which the Fleet lay at anchor, with the prospect of a further tramp of twelve or fourteen miles. Rawson used to chaff me for doing what he called "boatswain's work."

"You always want," he used to say, "to go down to the store-room and cut off 30 fathoms of rope yourself."

To which I used to reply that I wanted to do nothing of the sort; but what I did want to do was to see that a piece of 30 fathoms of rope was cut off. On the same principle, Rawson used to deride my acquaintance with signals. Now that we either had to attract the attention of the Fleet or walk for another three or four hours, I told Rawson that if I could find a shepherd's hut I would get a boat over. He did not believe me.

But we found a hut, and in the hut, an oil lamp and a bucket, out of which I constructed a signalling apparatus. I had hardly made the Undaunted pennant, when it was answered from the ship, and inside a quarter of an hour the boat waiting for us on the other side of the bay had been recalled, and another boat was rapidly approaching us. Rawson left off chaffing me after that.

It was at this time that my old friend, Captain Gerard Noel (now Admiral of the Fleet Sir G. H. U. Noel, G.C.B., K.C.M.G.), one of the smartest seamen in the Service, performed a brilliant feat of seamanship. Captain Noel commanded the twin-screw, rigged ironclad Téméraire, of 8540 tons displacement, one of the types in which sail-power was employed as well as steam. She was brig-rigged, and I think her main-yard measured 104 feet, or about four feet longer than the main-yards of the sailing line-of-battleships of, say, 1850-60. On the 3rd October, 1890, Captain Noel beat her under sail alone against a head wind up Suda Bay, a long narrow arm of the sea, with shoal water in places, which added to the difficulty of handling the ship. If I am not mistaken, that occasion was the first and last time an ironclad beat her way under sail into an anchorage. The Téméraire made thirteen tacks and anchored within two cables (400 yards) of her appointed berth with the Fleet. By that time the wind had failed and it was useless to attempt to tack again.

It was early in the commission of the Undaunted that I read Captain (now Admiral) A. T. Mahan's admirable book, The Influence of Sea Power upon History; of which it is not too much to say that it has changed the whole trend of modern thought in respect of the relation of sea warfare to land warfare. Preparation for war now turns upon a new pivot. The result has been that extraordinary increase of foreign navies which necessarily imposes upon us a proportionate increase of our own Navy. I was so greatly impressed with the work of Captain Mahan, that I wrote to him to express my admiration for it. I received in reply the interesting letter which follows, and which Admiral Mahan has kindly permitted me to quote: