The Memoirs of Admiral Lord Beresford

"75, EAST 54TH STREET, NEW YORK

7th February, 1891

"DEAR LORD CHARLES BERESFORD, – I thank you very much for your letter, which was received a few days since. The reception my book has had on your side of the water has been very grateful to me. Commendation is pleasant, but there has been a degree of thoughtful appreciation in England, both by the Press and naval officers which has exceeded my expectations and, I fear, the deserts of the work. That it will produce any effect upon our people is unlikely; too many causes concur to prevent a recognition of the truth that even the most extensive countries need to make themselves outside. After our own, nothing will give me greater pleasure than that it should contribute in your country to a sense of your vital interest in this matter. Your naval officers have an inducement to study those great questions which is almost wanting in ours; for if your Fleet is not all that you could wish, you still have some instruments to work with, a force superior to any other if not adequate to all your needs, and the inadequacy can be greatly remedied by judicious and careful planning and preparation.

"… The number and dissemination of your external interests throws England largely on the defensive, necessarily so. It was so in the great days of Pitt and Nelson, though the fact is obscured by the great naval preponderance you then had. You have now greater and more extensive interests to defend… – Believe me to be, very truly yours, "A. T. MAHAN"

CHAPTER XXXVIII

H.M.S. UNDAUNTED (Continued)

II. THE SALVING OF THE SEIGNELAY

The Undaunted, lying at Alexandria in 1891, was being rigged up for a ball; when a telegram arrived ordering her to go to the rescue of the French cruiser Seignelay, which had gone ashore near Jaffa, on 26th April. The telegram arrived at one o'clock in the morning of the 28th April. Before daylight, the ball-room was unrigged, the decorations were taken down, 300 guests were put off by telegram, and we were steaming at full speed to the Seignelay, distant 270 miles. In a private letter printed in The Times of 20th October, 1894, describing the affair, the anonymous writer says: "It was a good sample of the vicissitudes of naval life, and I think we all rather enjoyed it." (I do not know who wrote the letter, but it must have been one of my officers; who, without my knowledge, published it, or sanctioned its publication, more than a year after the Undaunted had paid off. The proprietors of The Times have kindly given me permission to quote from the document, which was written at the time of the occurrence of the events which it describes, and which contains details I had forgotten.)

At daylight on 29th April, we found the Seignelay driven high up on a sandy beach, embedded in five and a half feet of sand in shallow water. She had parted her cable in a gale of wind, had driven on shore, and had scooped out a dock for herself. Had she been built with a round stern each succeeding wave of the sea would have lifted and then dropped her, bumping her to pieces. But as she had a sharp stern, the breakers lifted her bodily and floated her farther on. The Seignelay was a single-screw wooden cruiser, of 1900 tons displacement and 18 feet 4 inches draught. When his ship struck, the captain telegraphed to his admiral saying that he feared she was hopelessly lost. The French admiral dispatched a squadron of three ships to take off the men and stores; but by the time they arrived the Seignelay was afloat again and lying at her anchor almost undamaged; and the senior French captain amiably remarked: "You English do not know the word impossible."

The British sloop Melita, Commander George F. King-Hall (now Admiral Sir G. F. King-Hall, K.C.B, C.V.O.), was already endeavouring to help the Seignelay when the Undaunted arrived; but the water was so shallow that the Melita could not approach nearer than 300 yards, and the Undaunted 850 yards, to the Seignelay.

I went on board the Seignelay, and found her captain seated in his cabin, profoundly dejected at the disaster. I cheered him as well as I could, telling him that of course I understood that he had only been waiting for more men to lighten his ship, and that I would send him 130 men with an officer who understood French to act as interpreter.

There was a heavy sea running; and the anchor I had brought in the launch was laid out astern of the Seignelay with considerable difficulty, and the end of the cable was brought on board the Seignelay.

Besides the Melita, the Austrian steamer Diana, the French steamer Poitou and the Russian steamer Odessa had all been endeavouring to rescue the Seignelay, but they had neither the men nor the gear required for the task. What was done subsequently was narrated in The Times, more than three years afterwards, by the anonymous writer aforesaid.

"Our First Lieutenant (Lieutenant Stokes Rees) went as interpreter, and all our Captain wanted done was suggested by him to the French. He gave the orders to junior officers over our men, and I believe worked the French crew also by his suggestions, a fine old sailor who was one of their chief petty officers giving what orders were necessary. He hardly left the deck for three days and nights, and did his work splendidly.

"The ship was embedded 5½ feet in the sand, and so had to be lightened that much before we could hope to move her. This we spent all Wednesday afternoon in doing.

"On Thursday morning the Melita with a light draught Turkish steamer (the Arcadia) tried to pull her off but failed, while the Melita was very nearly wrecked herself. Nothing but very smart seamanship in making sail and casting off hawsers with cool judgment on the part of – … saved her from being dashed in a good sea upon a jagged reef of rocks close to leeward. Her screw got fouled, and the willing but awkward Turk towed her head round towards the reef and she only just managed to get sail on her and shave it by 50 yards. She could not anchor or she would have swung on top of it. We were looking on powerless from our deep draught of water, though we hurried out hawsers, but it was one of the nearest shaves I have seen, and with the large number of men they had away in working parties, a thing to be very proud of and thankful for…"

What happened was that the Melita fouled her screw with a hawser. I had warned her commander both orally and by signal to beware above all of fouling his screw. But circumstances defeated his efforts. When a man is doing his best in difficulties, there is no use in adding to his embarrassments by a reprimand. I signalled to Commander King-Hall to cheer up and to clear his screw as soon as he could; and I have reason to know that he deeply appreciated my motive in so doing.

To continue the narrative, which I have interrupted to quote an instance of disciplinary action in an emergency:

"All Thursday we worked on at lightening her, getting out 300 tons of coal, all her shot, shell, small guns, provisions and cables on board our ship, until every part of the ship was piled up with them, and all our nicely painted boats reduced to ragged cargo boats, besides being a good deal damaged owing to the exposed anchorage and seaway. We got out one strong, and two light, wire hawsers and with them the two ships tried to tow, but we parted the light hawsers at once.

"Then the Captain let me try a plan I had all along been urging but which he … and the French called a physical impossibility."

(The fact was, that the lighters and native boats were so unseaworthy that, until the weather moderated, the scheme, with all deference to the writer, was impracticable.)

"We hired native boats and large lighters, got out strong chain cables into them, and laid out 450 yards of chain cable between the Melita and ourselves, floated on these lighters. Thanks to the skill of our boatswain and a big quantity of men in the lighters this was done most successfully, though three lighters were sunk or destroyed in doing it.

"That afternoon, Friday the 1st, having got 450 tons out of the ship in forty-four hours, we got a fair pull at her with all three ships, the little Turk tugging manfully at his rotten hawser at one quarter and giving her a side pull occasionally. We gradually worked our mighty engines up to full speed, the chain cable tautened out as I have never seen chain do before and off she came.

"We manned the rigging and gave her cheer on cheer, the band playing the Marseillaise as the Melita towed her past our stern, while the Frenchmen hugged and kissed our men on their checks. It was a scene to be long remembered. The crowds of spectators lining the beach and walls, and our own men, 'spent but victorious' after their long forty-four hours of almost unceasing work, hardly anyone lying down for more than three or four hours either night…

"By noon on Saturday we had replaced all their gear on board, picked up their anchors and cables, etc., so that when their squadron came in that evening they found nothing left to do. They were really grateful and showed much good feeling, coming to call on us and being most friendly.

"On Monday night, when we left, the whole squadron cheered us manfully…"

The British admiral was afterwards asked by the French Government to allow the Undaunted to proceed to the Gulf of Lions where the French Fleet was lying, in order that the officers and men of the Undaunted might attend a reception in her honour. The Undaunted steamed down between the French lines, playing the Marseillaise, the French manning ship and cheering. Officers and men were most hospitably entertained with every mark of friendship and goodwill. The French Government most courteously presented me with a beautiful Sèvres vase, which is one of my most valued possessions.

When the time came for the Undaunted to go home, the commander-in-chief paid her a high compliment. The whole Fleet steamed out of Malta Harbour in line ahead, the Undaunted being the rear ship of the line. When we were to part company, every vessel, except the Undaunted, turned 16 points to port in succession (the line thus curving back upon itself) and steamed past the stern of the Undaunted. The commander-in-chief gave orders to cheer ship as each vessel passed the Undaunted: a stately farewell to the homeward bound.

On the passage home, in order to test the actual working of communication by signal between the Navy and the mercantile marine, a system whose reform had constantly urged, I signalled, between Malta and Plymouth, to 33 merchantmen. Of the whole number, only three answered my signal, and of the three, only one answered it correctly, although several vessels passed within 600 yards of the Undaunted. The signals I made were short, such as "Where are you bound?" "Where are you from?" "Have you seen any men-of-war?" "What weather have you had?" and some of them required only one hoist in reply.

The Royal Navy, a great part of whose duty in time of war would be the protection of commerce, was in fact at that time practically unable to communicate with the Merchant navy, either for the purpose of giving or receiving information, except by means of sending a boat to the vessel in question, a proceeding which must often be impossible, and which would always involve a delay which might bring serious consequences. No condition of affairs could more powerfully exemplify the national neglect of preparation for war. For in war, the maintenance of the lines of communication from ship to ship and ship to shore, is of the first importance.

The difficulty discovered by merchant vessels in signalling or replying to a signal consisted in their ignorance of signalling. They were seldom required to signal; the use of the commercial code involved a tedious process, impossible to accomplish quickly without constant practice; they were equipped with neither Morse nor semaphore apparatus, nor had officers or men learned how to use it. When a man-of-war signalled to a merchantman, the merchant skipper or mate must first try to decipher the flags of the hoist, an exercise to which he was totally unaccustomed. When he had decided that the flags were, say, blue with a white stripe, and red with a yellow stripe, he had to turn them up in the signal-book to discover what they meant. All this time the distance between the two ships was rapidly increasing. Having made out the signal, the merchant sailor must refer to his signal-book to find what flags made his reply; and having found them, he had to pick out the flag itself from a bundle. By the time he had finished these operations, if he ever finished them, the ships were nearly out of sight of each other.

The reform was eventually achieved largely by the personal enterprise and energy of the mercantile marine officers themselves, who learned signalling, and who often paid for the necessary apparatus out of their own pockets.

The Undaunted paid off early in 1893. Upon the evening of the day upon which I arrived in London, I went to the House of Commons to listen to the debate upon the Navy Estimates.

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE SECOND SHIPBUILDING PROGRAMME

It is easier to take the helm than to be on the con. I have always been on the con. To drop the metaphor, I have looked ahead in matters of naval defence and have pointed out what (in my view) ought to be done. In 1889, I resigned my post at the Board of Admiralty in order to fasten public attention upon the instant necessity of strengthening the Fleet by the addition of 70 vessels at a cost of £20,000,000. In the same year, the Naval Defence Act provided those vessels at a cost a little in excess of my estimate. That was my first shipbuilding programme. Many other forces were of course exerted to the same end: the representations of distinguished brother officers; the many excellent articles in the Press; and the steadily increasing pressure of public opinion, then much less warped by party politics than it has since become. Apart from these influences, which were fortified by the irresistible logic of the truth, my own efforts must have availed little. But above all (to resume my metaphor), it was the helmsman at the Admiralty who put the wheel over. Captain W. H. Hall, Director of the Intelligence Department, worked out the requirements of the case, unknown to me, and arrived at the same conclusions as those at which I had arrived, and the Board of Admiralty adopted his scheme. By the irony of circumstance, the Intelligence Department had been instituted, in consequence of my representations, before I left the Admiralty, for the precise purpose of reporting upon the requirements of defence; and the first report of its fearless and enlightened chief completely upset the comfortable theories both of the Board and of the Government.

I have briefly recalled these matters, fully related in a previous chapter, because they present a curious parallel with the events of 1893-4.

In July, 1893, while still on half-pay, I addressed the London Chamber of Commerce on the subject of "The Protection of the mercantile marine in War." Since I had left the Undaunted, early in the year, I had been occupied once more in drawing up a scheme of naval requirements, specifying what was required, why it was required, and how much it would cost, and giving a detailed list of the necessary vessels. The protection of the mercantile marine was the first part of it; the whole was not completed until just before I was appointed captain of the Steam Reserve at Chatham; and it would have been improper for me to have published the paper while on active service. It was intended that I should read it before the London Chamber of Commerce, following upon and amplifying my address dealing with the protection of the mercantile marine in war. But as there was no time available for the purpose before I went on active service, I gave the scheme to Mr. John Jackson, for the London Chamber of Commerce. I may take this opportunity of paying a tribute to the disinterested and untiring patriotic zeal of the late Mr. Jackson, between whom and myself a warm friendship existed.

In my address upon the protection of the mercantile marine in war, the abrogation of the Declaration of Paris of 1856 was urged as a primary condition of British naval supremacy: a condition unequivocally laid down in the Report of the Three Admirals in 1889. Subsequent events have shown that successive British Governments, far from recognising the essential elements of sea power, continued to yield point after point, until at the Naval Conferences of 1907 and 1909, whose recommendations were embodied in the Declaration of London, British Ministers virtually conceded nearly every right gained by centuries of hard fighting in the past. Fortunately, public indignation has hitherto prevented the ratification of that fatal instrument.

It was also shown in my address that, at the time, the naval protection for the mercantile marine was in the ratio of one small cruiser to 71 sailing vessels and one small cruiser to 41 steamers; that there were dangerous deficiencies in the supplies of reserve coal and ammunition; that a reserve force of at least 20 battleships was required; and that there was urgent need for the immediate construction of the mole and other works at Gibraltar.

The shipbuilding programme was designed to show how these and other requirements were to be met. Mr. John Jackson caused it to be published on his own responsibility. The execution of the requirements therein specified involved an expenditure of 25 millions spread over three and a half years. Their necessity was supported by Vice-Admiral P. H. Colomb, writing in The United Service Magazine; by many letters in the Press written by my brother officers; by further excellent articles in The Times and other papers; and by Lord George Hamilton, ex-First Lord of the Admiralty.

In November, Lord Salisbury publicly stated that "men of different schools with respect to maritime and military defences, men of very different services and experiences and ability," were united in urging that steps should be at once taken to re-establish the maritime supremacy of this country.

The fact was, of course, that the provision made by the Naval Defence Act of 1889 was running out, and that in the revolution of the party political machine, the periodic neglect of the Navy had occurred as usual. As one party attains a lease of power, it is forced to increase the strength of the Fleet; the effort expends itself; then the other party comes in, and either reduces the Fleet, or neglects it, or both, until public opinion is once more aroused by infinite shoutings and untiring labour, and the Government are coerced into doing their plain duty.

Such was the situation in 1888-9; such was it in 1893-4. In 1888-9, a Conservative administration was in power; in 1893-4, Mr. Gladstone was Prime Minister. The difficulty of the situation in 1893-4 was therefore more obstinate, inasmuch as Mr. Gladstone's Ministry held that the reduction of expenditure upon defence was an act of moral virtue; whereas Lord Salisbury's Government merely waited to be convinced of the necessity of increase, before doing their duty.

Nevertheless, what happened? The Navy Estimates of March, 1894, provided for an expenditure of no less than 30¼ millions upon new construction spread over five years; as compared with my proposal of 25 millions spread over three and a half years. The Government actually provided more than was contained in my programme.

The Spencer programme, as it is called, was a much bigger scheme than the programme of 1888-9. It not only provided the ships required, but included a scheme for manning them. It included a comprehensive programme of naval works in which, for the first time in history, the defence of the Empire was treated as a whole. Provision was made for deepening and improving the harbours of Portsmouth, Chatham, Devonport, Haulbowline, for the Keyham extension, for naval barracks at Chatham and Walmer, for the new works at Gibraltar, for the construction of harbours at Portland, Dover, and Simon's Bay, and for large extensions of the dockyards at Malta, Hong Kong and Simon's Bay. The cost of the works was to be met by monies raised under a Naval Loan Act. That Act is still in force, but a later Government declined to utilise it; with the inevitable result that the neglected and dismantled condition of the coaling stations and naval bases abroad, constitute a present danger to the Empire, and will in the future require a vast expenditure, which need never have been incurred, to be devoted to their restoration.

To what extraordinary influence, then, was the conversion of Mr. Gladstone and his colleagues to be attributed? There was, in fact, no conversion. It was a case of coercion; or, as Mr. Gladstone entertained a strong dislike to the word, let us call it moral suasion. The explanation is simple and sufficient. In August, 1893, which was the time when the representations concerning naval deficiencies were becoming insistent, Admiral Sir Frederick Richards was appointed First Sea Lord. Sir Frederick Richards, it will be remembered, was one of the Three Admirals who drew up the historic "Report on The Naval Manoeuvres of 1888," and it was chiefly due to his genius and patriotism that from a technical disquisition the Report became a masterly exposition of the true principles of British sea power. Incidentally, it endorsed the whole of my representations set forth in my shipbuilding programme, which were embodied in the Naval Defence Act of 1889.

Sir Frederick Richards, too, had been a member of the Hartington Commission on Naval and Military Administration, which reported in 1890; and which, although its recommendations were for many years neglected by successive Governments, at least taught its members what was the real condition of affairs, and what were the requirements of organisation for war. Sir Frederick, therefore, came to his high office furnished not only with the sea experience of a flag officer afloat, but equipped with a detailed knowledge of administration and organisation; and endowed, in addition, with so remarkable a genius, that he was one of the greatest naval administrators known to the history of the Royal Navy.

His devotion to duty was the master motive of his life; nor was there a man living who could turn him by the breadth of a hair from what he believed to be right. Having planned, as the proper adviser of Lord Spencer, the First Lord, the great shipbuilding and naval works scheme of 1894-5, he was confronted by the strong opposition of Mr. Gladstone and his Cabinet.

Sir Frederick Richards and the whole of his naval colleagues on the Board immediately informed the Government that, unless their proposals for strengthening the Fleet and for providing for the naval defence of the Empire, were accepted, they would resign. It was enough. The Government yielded.

The Naval Lords were: Admiral Sir Frederick Richards, K.C.B.; Rear-Admiral the Lord Walter Talbot Kerr; Rear-Admiral Sir John Arbuthnot Fisher, K.C.B.; and Captain Gerard Henry Uctred Noel.

It was in commemoration of the action of Sir Frederick Richards that the Navy caused his portrait to be painted, and presented it to the nation. Inscribed with the legend "From the Navy to the Nation," it hangs in the Painted Hall at Greenwich, where it was placed during the lifetime of the admiral, an unique distinction.

As in 1889, when many of my brother officers and myself were conning the ship, it was the helmsman at the Admiralty who put the wheel over, and again I was wholly ignorant of his intentions. But this time the helmsman was none other than the First Sea Lord, and with him were his naval colleagues. With him, too, was the great body of public opinion in the country; and as in 1888, those of us who had been toiling to educate it, may at least claim to have set in motion a force lacking which it is almost impossible, under a pseudo-democratic government, to accomplish any great reform whatever.

It is not too much to say that to the shipbuilding and naval works programme initiated and planned by Sir Frederick Richards in 1894-5, and carried by his courage and resolution, the Empire owes its subsequent immunity from external attack, notably at the time of the Fashoda incident and during the South African war.