‘For a scrutiny so minute as to bring an object under an untrue angle of vision, is a poorer guide to a man’s judgment, than the most rapid and sweeping glance which sees things in their true proportions.’

The Big Punch—The 15–inch Gun—An Anxious Decision—The Design of a Battleship—Gun-power and Speed—The Argument for the Fast Division—The Fifth Turret—Liquid Fuel—The Oil Problem—Financial Entanglements—The Royal Commission on Oil Supplies—The Anglo-Persian Convention—A Golden Reward—The Fast Division at Jutland—Swifter Destroyers—Cruiser Design—Correspondence with Lord Fisher—The Light Armoured Cruisers—The Arethusa.

Until I got to the Admiralty I had never properly appreciated the service which Mr. McKenna and Lord Fisher had rendered to the Fleet in 1909 by their big leap forward from the 12–inch to the 13·5–inch gun. To illustrate this I set out the weight of the shell fired by the principal guns in the British and German navies:—

The increase of 1½ inch in the calibre of the gun was enough to raise the British shell from 850 pounds to 1,400 pounds. No fewer than twelve ships were actually building on the slips for the Royal Navy armed with these splendid weapons, quite unsurpassed at that time in the world, and firing a projectile nearly half as heavy again as the biggest fired by the German Fleet.

I immediately sought to go one size better. I mentioned this to Lord Fisher at Reigate, and he hurled himself into its advocacy with tremendous passion. ‘Nothing less than the 15–inch gun could be looked at for all the battleships and battle-cruisers of the new programme. To achieve the supply of this gun was the equivalent of a great victory at sea; to shrink from the endeavour was treason to the Empire. What was it that enabled Jack Johnson to knock out his opponents? It was the big punch. And where were those miserable men with bevies of futile pop-guns crowding up their ships?’ No one who has not experienced it has any idea of the passion and eloquence of this old lion when thoroughly roused on a technical question. I resolved to make a great effort to secure the prize, but the difficulties and the risks were very great, and looking back upon it one feels that they were only justified by success. Enlarging the gun meant enlarging the ships, and enlarging the ships meant increasing the cost. Moreover, the redesign must cause no delay and the guns must be ready as soon as the turrets were ready. No such thing as a modern 15–inch gun existed. None had ever been made. The advance to the 13·5–inch had in itself been a great stride. Its power was greater; its accuracy was greater; its life was much longer. Could the British designers repeat this triumph on a still larger scale and in a still more intense form? The Ordnance Board were set to work and they rapidly produced a design. Armstrongs were consulted in deadly secrecy, and they undertook to execute it. I had anxious conferences with these experts, with whose science I was of course wholly unacquainted, to see what sort of men they were and how they really felt about it. They were all for it. One did not need to be an expert in ballistics to discern that. The Director of Naval Ordnance Rear-Admiral Moore was ready to stake his professional existence upon it. But after all there could not be absolute certainty. We knew the 13·5–inch well. All sorts of new stresses might develop in the 15–inch model. If only we could make a trial gun and test it thoroughly before giving the orders for the whole of the guns of all the five ships, there would be no risk; but then we should lose an entire year, and five great vessels would go into the line of battle carrying an inferior weapon to that which we had it in our power to give them. Several there were of the responsible authorities consulted who thought it would be more prudent to lose the year. For, after all, if the guns had failed, the ships would have been fearfully marred. I hardly remember ever to have had more anxiety about any administrative decision than this.

I went back to Lord Fisher. He was steadfast and even violent. So I hardened my heart and took the plunge. The whole outfit of guns was ordered forthwith. We arranged that one gun should be hurried on four months in front of the others by exceptional efforts so as to be able to test it for range and accuracy and to get out the range tables and other complex devices which depended upon actual firing results. From this moment we were irrevocably committed to the whole armament, and every detail in these vessels, extending to thousands of parts, was redesigned to fit them. Fancy if they failed. What a disaster. What an exposure. No excuse would be accepted. It would all be brought home to me—‘rash, inexperienced,’ ‘before he had been there a month,’ ‘altering all the plans of his predecessors’ and producing ‘this ghastly fiasco,’ ‘the mutilation of all the ships of the year.’ What could I have said? Moreover, although the decision, once taken, was irrevocable, a long period of suspense—fourteen or fifteen months at least—was unavoidable. However, I dissembled my misgivings. I wrote to the First Sea Lord that ‘Risks have to be run in peace as well as in war, and courage in design now may win a battle later on.’

But everything turned out all right. British gunnery science proved exact and true, and British workmanship as sound as a bell and punctual to the day. The first gun was known in the Elswick shops as ‘the hush and push gun,’ and was invariably described in all official documents as ‘the 14–inch experimental.’ It proved a brilliant success. It hurled a 1,920–pound projectile 35,000 yards; it achieved remarkable accuracy at all ranges without shortening its existence by straining itself in any way. No doubt I was unduly anxious; but when I saw the gun fired for the first time a year later and knew that all was well, I felt as if I had been delivered from a great peril.

In one of those nightmare novels that used to appear from time to time before the war, I read in 1913 of a great battle in which, to the amazement of the defeated British Fleet, the German new vessels opened fire with a terrible, unheard-of 15–inch gun. There was a real satisfaction in feeling that anyhow this boot was on the other leg.

The gun dominated the ship, and was the decisive cause of all the changes we then made in design. The following was in those days the recipe in very unexpert language for making a battleship:—

You take the largest possible number of the best possible guns that can be fired in combination from one vessel as a single battery. You group them conveniently by pairs in turrets. You put the turrets so that there is the widest possible arc of fire for every gun and the least possible blast interference. This regulates the position of the turrets and the spacing between them. You draw a line around the arrangement of turrets thus arrived at, which gives you the deck of the ship. You then build a hull to carry this deck or great gun platform. It must be very big and very long. Next you see what room you have got inside this hull for engines to drive it, and from this and from the length you get the speed. Last of all you decide on the armour.

All these calculations and considerations act and react upon one another at every stage, and the manner in which the Royal Corps of Constructors can juggle with these factors, and the facility with which the great chiefs and masters of battleship design like Sir Philip Watts and Sir Eustace Tennyson-D’Eyncourt and their faithful confederate Sir Henry Oram, the Chief Engineer, were able to speak on these matters were marvellous beyond belief. In a few hours, or at most in a few days, one could be told the effect of an alteration in any one set of conditions upon every other set of conditions. On this vast process of juggling and higgling we now embarked.

From the beginning there appeared a ship carrying ten 15–inch guns, and therefore at least 600 feet long with room inside her for engines which would drive her 21 knots and capacity to carry armour which on the armoured belt, the turrets and the conning tower would reach the thickness unprecedented in the British Service of 13 inches. For less armour you could have more speed: for less speed you could have more armour, and so on within very considerable limits. But now a new idea began to dawn. Eight 15–inch guns would fire a simultaneous broadside of approximately 16,000 lb. Ten of the latest 13·5–inch would only fire 14,000 lb. Therefore, we could get for eight 15–inch guns a punch substantially greater than that of ten 13·5–inch. Nor did the superiority end there. With the increased size of the shell came a far greater increase in the capacity of the bursting charge. It was not quite a geometric progression, because other considerations intervened; but it was in that order of ideas. There was no doubt about the punch. On the other hand, look at the speed. Twenty-one knots was all very well in its way, but suppose we could get a much greater speed. Suppose we could cram into the hull a horse-power sufficient to drive these terrific vessels, already possessing guns and armour superior to that of the heaviest battleship, at speeds hitherto only obtained by the lightly armoured 12–inch gun battle-cruisers, should we not have introduced a new element into naval war?

And here we leave the region of material. I have built the process up stage by stage as it was argued out, but of course all the processes proceeded in simultaneous relation, and the result was to show a great possibility. Something like the ship described above could be made if it were wanted. Was it wanted? Was it the right thing to make? Was its tactical value sufficient to justify the increase in cost and all the changes in design? We must turn for the answer to the tactical sphere.

Here I felt able to see a little more clearly. As cannot be too often repeated, war is all one; and the same principles of thought which are true in any form are true mutatis mutandis in every other form. Obviously in creating an Army or an Air Force or a squadron of battleships you must first of all have regard to their highest tactical employment, namely, decisive battle. Let us, therefore, first of all visualise the battle. Let us try to imagine what its conditions will be; what we shall have to meet and what would help us most to win. The first naval idea of our supreme battle at this time was that it would be fought about something: somebody would want to be going somewhere and somebody else would try to stop him. One of the Fleets would be proceeding in a certain direction and the other Fleet would come along and try to prevent it. However they might approach, the battle would soon resolve itself into two lines of ships steaming along parallel and bringing all their broadsides to bear upon each other. Of course if one Fleet is much stronger than the other, has heavier guns and shoots better, the opposite line begins to get the worst of it. Ships begin to burn and blow up and fall out of the line, and every one that falls out increases the burden of fire upon the remainder. The Fleet which has more ships in it also has a tail which overlaps the enemy, and a good many ships in this tail can concentrate their fire upon the rear ships of the enemy, so that these unlucky vessels have not only to fight the ships opposite to them, but have to bear the fire of a number of others firing obliquely at them from behind. But smashing up the tail of an enemy’s Fleet is a poor way of preventing him from achieving his objective, i.e. going where he wants to go. It is not comparable to smashing up his head. Injuries at the head of the line tend to throw the whole line into confusion, whereas injuries at the tail only result in the ships dropping astern without causing other complications. Therefore the Admiralissimo will always try to draw a little ahead if he possibly can and bring his van nearer and nearer to the enemy and gradually, if he can, force that enemy to turn off, so that he can then curl round him. This well-known manœuvre is called ‘Crossing the T,’ and Admiral Togo had used it in the battle of the Sea of Japan.

If the speeds of the Fleets are equal, how can this be done? The heads of both lines will be abreast and the fire will only be given and returned ship for ship.

But suppose you have a division of ships in your Fleet which go much faster than any of your other ships or of your enemy’s ships. These ships will be certainly able to draw ahead and curl round the head of the enemy’s line. More than that, as they draw ahead they will repeat in a much more effective fashion the advantage of an overlapping tail, because the ships at the head of the enemy’s line will have to bear the fire of the overlapping ships as well as the fire of those which are lying opposite to them, and therefore two or three ships might be firing on every one of the leading ships of the enemy, thus smashing to pieces the head of the enemy’s line and throwing his whole formation into confusion.

Here then in simple outline is the famous argument for the Fast Division. A squadron of ships possessing a definite superiority of speed could be so disposed in the approaching formation of your own Fleet as to enable you, whichever way the enemy might deploy, to double the fire after certain interval upon the head of his line, and also to envelop it and cross it and so force him into a circular movement and bring him to bay once and for all without hope of escape.

Hitherto in all our battle plans this rôle had been assigned to the battle-cruisers. Their speed would certainly enable them to get there. But we must imagine that they would also be met by the enemy’s battle-cruisers, whereupon, as they say in the reports of the House of Commons ‘debate arising,’ they might easily fight a separate action of their own without relation to the supreme conflict. Further, the battle-cruisers, our beautiful ‘Cats,’ as their squadron was irreverently called,^[18] had thin skins compared to the enemy’s strongest battleships, which presumably would head his line. It is a rough game to pit battle-cruisers against battleships with only seven or nine inches of armour against twelve or thirteen, and probably with a weaker gun-power as well.^[19]

Suppose, however, we could make a division of ships fast enough to seize the advantageous position and yet as strong in gun-power and armour as any battleship afloat. Should we not have scored almost with certainty an inestimable and a decisive advantage? The First Sea Lord, Sir Francis Bridgeman, fresh from the command of the Home Fleet, and most of his principal officers, certainly thought so. The Fast Division was the dream of their battle plans. But could we get such ships? Could they be designed and constructed? And here we came back again to Sir Philip Watts and Sir Henry Oram and the Ordnance Board and the Royal Corps of Naval Constructors.

At this stage the War College were asked to work out on the tactical board the number of knots superiority in speed required in a Fast Division in order to ensure this Division being able to manœuvre around the German Fleet as it would be in the years 1914 and 1915.

The answer was that if the Fast Division could steam in company 25 knots or better, they could do all that was necessary. We therefore wanted 4 or 5 knots additional speed. How were we to get it? With every knot the amount of horse-power required is progressively greater. Our new ship would steam 21 knots, but to steam 25 to 26 she wanted 50,000 horse-power. Fifty thousand horse-power meant more boilers, and where could they be put? Why, obviously they could be put where the fifth turret would go, and having regard to the increased punch of the 15–inch gun we could spare the fifth turret.

But even this would not suffice. We could not get the power required to drive these ships at 25 knots except by the use of oil fuel.

The advantages conferred by liquid fuel were inestimable. First, speed. In equal ships oil gave a large excess of speed over coal. It enabled that speed to be attained with far greater rapidity. It gave forty per cent. greater radius of action for the same weight of coal. It enabled a fleet to refuel at sea with great facility. An oil-burning fleet can, if need be and in calm weather, keep its station at sea, nourishing itself from tankers without having to send a quarter of its strength continually into harbour to coal, wasting fuel on the homeward and outward journey. The ordeal of coaling ship exhausted the whole ship’s company. In war-time it robbed them of their brief period of rest; it subjected everyone to extreme discomfort. With oil, a few pipes were connected with the shore or with a tanker and the ship sucked in its fuel with hardly a man having to lift a finger. Less than half the number of stokers was needed to tend and clean the oil furnaces. Oil could be stowed in spare places in a ship from which it would be impossible to bring coal. As a coal ship used up her coal, increasingly large numbers of men had to be taken, if necessary from the guns, to shovel the coal from remote and inconvenient bunkers to bunkers nearer to the furnaces or to the furnaces themselves, thus weakening the fighting efficiency of the ship perhaps at the most critical moment in the battle. For instance, nearly a hundred men were continually occupied in the Lion shovelling coal from one steel chamber to another without ever seeing the light either of day or of the furnace fires. The use of oil made it possible in every type of vessel to have more gun-power and more speed for less size or less cost. It alone made it possible to realise the high speeds in certain types which were vital to their tactical purpose. All these advantages were obtained simply by burning oil instead of coal under the boilers. Should it at any time become possible to abolish boilers altogether and explode the oil in the cylinders of internal combustion engines, every advantage would be multiplied tenfold.

On my arrival at the Admiralty we had already built or building 56 destroyers solely dependent on oil and 74 submarines which could only be driven by oil; and a proportion of oil was used to spray the coal furnaces of nearly all ships. We were not, however, dependent upon oil to such an extent as to make its supply a serious naval problem. To build any large additional number of oil-burning ships meant basing our naval supremacy upon oil. But oil was not found in appreciable quantities in our islands. If we required it we must carry it by sea in peace or war from distant countries. We had, on the other hand, the finest supply of the best steam coal in the world, safe in our mines under our own hand.

To change the foundation of the Navy from British coal to foreign oil was a formidable decision in itself. If it were taken it must raise a whole series of intricate problems all requiring heavy initial expense. First there must be accumulated in Great Britain an enormous oil reserve large enough to enable us to fight for many months if necessary without bringing in a single cargo of oil. To contain this reserve enormous installations of tanks must be erected near the various naval ports. Would they not be very vulnerable? Could they be protected? Could they be concealed or disguised? The word ‘camouflage’ was not then known. Fleets of tankers had to be built to convey the oil from the distant oilfields across the oceans to the British Isles, and others of a different pattern to take it from our naval harbours to the fleets at sea.

Owing to the systems of finance by which we had bound ourselves, we were not allowed to borrow even for capital or ‘once for all’ expenditure. Every penny must be won from Parliament year by year, and constituted a definite addition to the inevitably rising and already fiercely challenged Naval Estimates. And beyond these difficulties loomed up the more intangible problems of markets and monopolies. The oil supplies of the world were in the hands of vast oil trusts under foreign control. To commit the Navy irrevocably to oil was indeed ‘to take arms against a sea of troubles.’ Wave after wave, dark with storm, crested with foam, surged towards the harbour in which we still sheltered. Should we drive out into the teeth of the gale, or should we bide contented where we were? Yet beyond the breakers was a great hope. If we overcame the difficulties and surmounted the risks, we should be able to raise the whole power and efficiency of the Navy to a definitely higher level; better ships, better crews, higher economies, more intense forms of war power—in a word, mastery itself was the prize of the venture. A year gained over a rival might make the difference. Forward, then!

The three programmes of 1912, 1913 and 1914 comprised the greatest additions in power and cost ever made to the Royal Navy. With the lamentable exception of the battleships of 1913—and these were afterwards corrected—they did not contain a coal-burning ship. Submarines, destroyers, light cruisers, fast battleships—all were based irrevocably on oil. The fateful plunge was taken when it was decided to create the Fast Division. Then, for the first time, the supreme ships of the Navy, on which our life depended, were fed by oil and could only be fed by oil. The decision to drive the smaller craft by oil followed naturally upon this. The camel once swallowed, the gnats went down easily enough.

A decision like this involved our national safety as much as a battle at sea. It was as anxious and as harassing as any hazard in war. It was war in a certain sense raging under a surface of unbroken peace. Compare it with the decision to attempt to force the Dardanelles with the old surplus vessels of a fleet which had already proved its supremacy. The oil decision was vital; the Dardanelles decision was subsidiary. The first touched our existence; the second our superfluities. Having succeeded in the first, it did not seem difficult when the time came to attempt the second. I did not understand that in war the power of a civilian Minister to carry through a plan or policy is greatly diminished. He cannot draw his strength year by year from Parliament. He cannot be sure of being allowed to finish what he has begun. The loyalties of peace are replaced by the jealous passions of war. The Parliamentary safeguards are in abeyance. Explanation and debate may be impossible or may be denied. I learnt this later on.

I shall show presently the difficulties into which these decisions to create a fast division of battleships and to rely upon oil led me into during the years 1913 and 1914. Nor can I deny that colleagues who could not foresee the extra expense which they involved had grounds of complaint. Battleships were at that time assumed to cost two and a quarter millions each. The Queen Elizabeth class of fast battleships cost over three millions each. The expenditure of upwards of ten millions was required to create the oil reserve, with its tanks and its tankers, though a proportion of this would have been needed in any case. On more than one occasion I feared I should succumb. I had, however, the unfailing support of the Prime Minister. The Chancellor of the Exchequer whose duty it was to be my most severe critic was also my most friendly colleague. And so it all went through. Fortune rewarded the continuous and steadfast facing of these difficulties by the Board of Admiralty and brought us a prize from fairyland far beyond our brightest hopes.

An unbroken series of consequences conducted us to the Anglo-Persian Oil Convention. The first step was to set up a Royal Commission on Oil Supply. Lord Fisher was invited and induced to preside over this by the following letter:—

We are too good friends (I hope) and the matters with which we are concerned are too serious (I’m sure) for anything but plain language.

This liquid fuel problem has got to be solved, and the natural, inherent, unavoidable difficulties are such that they require the drive and enthusiasm of a big man. I want you for this, viz. to crack the nut. No one else can do it so well. Perhaps no one else can do it at all. I will put you in a position where you can crack the nut, if indeed it is crackable. But this means that you will have to give your life and strength, and I don’t know what I have to give in exchange or in return. You have got to find the oil: to show how it can be stored cheaply: how it can be purchased regularly and cheaply in peace; and with absolute certainty in war. Then by all means develop its application in the best possible way to existing and prospective ships. But on the other hand, your Royal Commission will be advisory and not executive. It will assemble facts and state conclusions. It cannot touch policy or action. That would not be fair to those on whom I must now rely. Nor would you wish it. Its report must be secret from the public, and its work separate from the Admiralty. I cannot have Moore’s position^[20] eclipsed by a kind of Committee of Public Safety on Designs. The field of practical policy must be reserved for the immediately responsible officers. Research however authoritative lies outside. All this I know you will concur in.

Then as to personnel. I do not care a d——n whom you choose to assist you, so long as (1) the representative character of the Committee is maintained, and (2) the old controversies are not needlessly revived. Let us then go into names specifically.

Further, ‘Step by step’ is a valuable precept. When you have solved the riddle, you will find a very hushed attentive audience. But the riddle will not be solved unless you are willing—for the glory of God—to expend yourself upon its toils.

I recognise it is little enough I can offer you. But your gifts, your force, your hopes, belong to the Navy, with or without return; and as your most sincere admirer, and as the head of the Naval Service, I claim them now, knowing well you will not grudge them. You need a plough to draw. Your propellers are racing in air.

Simultaneously with the setting up of this Commission we pursued our own Admiralty search for oil. On the advice of Sir Francis Hopwood and Sir Frederick Black^[21] I sent Admiral Slade with an expert Committee to the Persian Gulf to examine the oil fields on the spot. These gentlemen were also the Admiralty representatives on the Royal Commission. To them the principal credit for the achievement is due. At the later financial stage the Governor of the Bank of England, afterwards Lord Cunliffe, and the director of the Anglo-Persian and Royal Burmah Oil Companies were most serviceable. All through 1912 and 1913 our efforts were unceasing.

Thus each link forged the next. From the original desire to enlarge the gun we were led on step by step to the Fast Division, and in order to get the Fast Division we were forced to rely for vital units of the Fleet upon oil fuel. This led to the general adoption of oil fuel and to all the provisions which were needed to build up a great oil reserve. This led to enormous expense and to tremendous opposition on the Naval Estimates. Yet it was absolutely impossible to turn back. We could only fight our way forward, and finally we found our way to the Anglo-Persian Oil agreement and contract which for an initial investment of two millions of public money (subsequently increased to five millions) has not only secured to the Navy of a very substantial proportion of its oil supply, but has led to the acquisition by the Government of a controlling share in oil properties and interests which are at present valued at scores of millions sterling and also to very considerable economies, which are still continuing, in the purchase price of Admiralty oil.

All forecasts in this speculative market are subject to revision. The figures set out below are recent and authoritative.^[22]

On this basis it may be said that the aggregate profits, realised and potential, of this investment may be estimated at a sum not merely sufficient to pay for all the programme of ships, great and small of that year and for the whole pre-war oil fuel installation; but are such that we may not unreasonably expect that one day we shall be entitled also to claim that the mighty fleets laid down in 1912, 1913 and 1914, the greatest ever built by any power in an equal period, were added to the British Navy without costing a single penny to the taxpayer.

Such is the story of the creation of a Fast Division of five famous battleships, the Queen Elizabeth, Warspite, Barham, Valiant and Malaya, all oil-driven, each capable of steaming a minimum of 25 knots, mounting eight 15–inch guns and protected by 13 inches of armour. It is permissible to look ahead and see what happened to these ships in the Battle of Jutland. Let us take the accounts of the enemy.

Says Tirpitz (vol. II, p. 284): ‘In the further course of the fight,’ i.e. after the destruction of the Indefatigable and Queen Mary, ‘the English were strongly reinforced by five^[23] of their newest ships of the Queen Elizabeth class, only completed during the war; these vessels, driven exclusively by oil-fuel, possessed such a high speed that they were able to take part in the cruiser engagement—they attached themselves to the English cruisers and joined in the battle at long range.’

The First Gunnery Officer of the Derfflinger is more explicit:

Meanwhile we saw that the enemy were being reinforced. Behind the battle cruiser line approached four big ships. We soon identified these as of the Queen Elizabeth class. There had been much talk in our fleet of these ships. They were ships of the line with the colossal armament of eight 15–inch guns, 28,000 tons displacement and a speed of twenty-five knots. Their speed, therefore, was scarcely inferior to ours (twenty-six knots), but they fired a shell more than twice as heavy as ours. They engaged at portentous range ... (p. 164).^[24]

As we were altering course to N.N.W. we caught sight of the head of our Third Squadron, the proud ships of the König class. Everyone now breathed more freely. While we had been engaged by the English Fifth Battle Squadron with its 15–inch guns in addition to the Battle Cruiser Squadron we had felt rather uncomfortable. (p. 167).

After the gradual disappearance of the four battle cruisers we were still faced with the four powerful ships of the Fifth Battle Squadron, Malaya, Valiant, Barham, and Warspite.

These ships cannot have developed very high speed in this phase of the battle, for they soon came within range of our Third Squadron, and were engaged by the ships at the head of the line, particularly the flagship, the König. In this way the four English battleships at one time and another came under the fire of at least nine German ships, five battle cruisers and from four to five battleships. According to my gunnery log, we were firing after 7.16 p.m. at the second battleship from the right, the one immediately astern of the leader. At these great ranges I fired armour-piercing shell.

The second phase passed without any important events as far as we were concerned. In a sense this part of the action, fought against a numerically inferior but more powerfully armed enemy, who kept us under fire at ranges at which we were helpless, was highly depressing, nerve-racking and exasperating. Our only means of defence was to leave the line for a short time when we saw that the enemy had our range. As this manœuvre was imperceptible to the enemy, we extricated ourselves at regular intervals from the hail of fire. (p. 173).

We may now turn to the smaller vessels.

There was no difficulty whatever in settling the design of the destroyers. The Admiralty had vacillated about destroyers in previous years. In 1908 they built large fast 33–knot Tribals burning oil, and then, worried by the oil problem and shocked at the expense, reverted for two years to 27–knot coal-burning flotillas (Acastas and Acherons). I was too late to stop the last bevy of these inferior vessels, but I gave directions to design the new flotilla to realise 35 knots speed without giving up anything in gun-power, torpedoes or seaworthiness. I proposed to the Board that if money ran short we should take sixteen of these rather than twenty of the others. Building slow destroyers! One might as well breed slow racehorses.

The cruisers were much more difficult. The duties of a British cruiser are very varied: now scouting for the Battle Fleet; now convoying merchantmen; now fighting an action with another cruiser squadron; now showing the flag in distant or tropical oceans. In an effort to produce a type which would combine all these requirements, the purity of design had been lost and a number of compromise ships, whose types melted into one another, were afloat or building. They ranged from the strong, heavily gunned and well armoured vessels like the Minotaur through lighter but still armoured variants of the ‘County’ class cruisers down to unarmoured but large ships like the Dartmouths (the ‘Town’ class), and the little vessels of 3,350 tons like the Blonde. Altogether there were nine distinct classes. It was time to classify and clarify thought and simplify nomenclature on this subject. The large armoured cruisers were already superseded by the battle-cruiser. They still remained a very powerful force, numbering no less than thirty-five vessels. We would call them ‘Cruisers.’ All the rest should be called ‘Light Cruisers.’ For the future we would build only battle-cruisers (or fast battleships) and light cruisers. The future evolution of the battle cruiser was well defined and depended on the numbers and character of any that might be laid down by Germany. Our lead in battle cruisers (9 to 4) and the creation of the fast division of battleships made it possible to delay decision on this type; but the light cruiser was urgent and even vital. We required a very large number of small fast vessels to protect the Battle Fleet from torpedo attack, to screen it and within certain limits to scout for it. After hearing many arguments, I proposed to the Board that we should concentrate on this type, to exclude all consideration of the requirements of the distant seas, and to build vessels for attendance on the Battle Fleets in home waters and for that duty alone.

Now arose the question of design. Should the new light cruiser be the smallest of the cruisers or the biggest of the destroyers? We had already in existence a few unarmoured light cruisers carrying 4–inch guns called the Blondes. We had also an experimental destroyer of enormous size, nearly 2,000 tons and about 36 knots speed, called the Swift. In between these were eight hybrid vessels called ‘Scouts’ representing weakness and confusion of thought: they had neither speed to run nor guns to fight; they steamed only 24 knots and mounted only a litter of 12–pounders; they carried no armour, but they ate up men and money. Whatever happened we must avoid a feeble compromise like that. I therefore called for designs of an improved Swift and an improved Blonde. The main object of both these types was to rupture a torpedo attack on the Battle Fleet, scout for it, and otherwise protect it. But destroyers were now being freely armed with 4–inch guns firing a 32–lb. shell capable of inflicting very serious injury on an unarmoured vessel. We must therefore have some protection, if not to keep out the shell at any rate to keep the bulk of the explosion outside the vessel. We must also have high speed and guns sufficient to punish even the biggest destroyers cruelly.

The constructors and engineers toiled and schemed, and in a few weeks Sir Philip Watts and Sir Henry Oram, par nobile fratrum, produced two joint alternative designs, the super-Blonde and the super-Swift. Both these vessels showed far higher qualities than anything previously achieved for their size and cost; but both were dependent upon oil only. I remitted these designs to a conference of Cruiser Admirals. I could feel opinion turning to the super-Blonde. I wrote to Fisher on the 12th January, 1912:—

In sustained rumination about super-Swifts, two types emerging.

(1) The super-Swift. 37 knots. Six 4–inch—600 tons of oil. £250,000. I want her to be superior at every point to all T.B.D.’s. Speed she has, and stronger armament, and superior stability. But it is alleged by Briggs^[25] (Advocatus Diaboli—a very necessary functionary) that she will be as flimsy as the destroyers, and a bigger target. So I have tried to find her a thicker skin—not much, but enough to flash off a 12–pounder or even a 4–inch shell. I can get from Admiral Watts 2–inch tensile steel round all vitals with great strengthening of the general structure of the vessel for 160 tons, £2,200, and three-quarters of a knot speed. The speed would come back as the oil was used up. I think it is a great advance. What do you feel?

(2) Do you know the Active? She is a Blonde. The super-Active, or Frenzy, Mania, and Delirium type, now in question, will be 3,500 tons, 30 knots, 40,000 h.p., ten 4–inch guns and 290 tons of armour distributed in 2–inch plates round vitals. She is therefore much smaller than the Dartmouths, £65,000 cheaper (£285,000 as against £350,000), about the same price or size as the Actives, but 4·7 knots faster (? in smooth water) and with 2–inch protection as against nothing.

Now if all this bears test, how about chucking the two Dartmouths and the Blonde in the programme, and substituting four Frenzies, all of a kind, the gain being one additional ship, four 30–knot cruiserlets or cruiserkins, and the cost being an extra £170,000. What is your view?

Fisher wrote on the 16th January:—

‘Of course there can be no moment’s doubt that you ought to chuck the two Dartmouths and the Blonde and take four Frenzies in lieu. I hope you won’t hesitate!’

He did not approve of them, however.

‘You are forced,’ he said, ‘by the general consensus of opinion to have these useless warships and this therefore is your wisest choice. I say to you deliberately that aviation has entirely dispensed with the necessity for this type. What you do want is the super-Swift—all oil—and don’t fiddle about armour; it really is so VERY silly! There is only ONE defence and that is SPEED! for all small vessels (except those who go under water).

‘The super-Swift is MAINLY wanted for the submarine. The submarine has no horizon. The Swift tells her where the enemy is and then flees for her life with 40 knots speed!

‘The super-Lion, the super-Swift and the super-Submarine—all else is wasted money!

‘The luxuries of the present are the necessities of the future. Our grandfathers never had a bath-room.... You have got to plunge for three years ahead! And THE ONE thing is to keep Foreign Admiralties running after you! It’s Hell for them!

‘The Germans are going to have a motor battleship before us and a cruiser that will make the circuit of the world without having to replenish her fuel!

‘What an Alabama!

‘The most damnable person for you to have any dealings with is a Naval Expert! Sea fighting is pure common sense. The first of all its necessities is SPEED, so as to be able to fight—

Therefore the super-Lion, the super-Swift and the super-Submarine are the only three types for fighting (speed being THE characteristic of each of these types). Aviation has wiped out the intermediate types. No armour for anything but the super-Lion and there restricted! Cost £1,995,000; speed over 30 knots; all oil; 10 “improved” guns; and you’ll make the Germans “squirm”!

And again:

‘You had better adopt 2 keels to 1! You have it now. It will be safe; it will be popular; it will head off the approaching German naval increase. Above all remember Keble in The Christian Year.

‘There is always the risk of a (bad Admiral) before a second A. K. Wilson comes along to supersede him! How that picture of old ‘ard ‘eart (as the sailors call him) rises before me now!... Three big fleets that had never seen each other came from three different quarters to meet him off Cape St. Vincent—in sight of Trafalgar. When each was many hundreds of miles away from him he ordered them by “wireless” exactly what to do, and that huge phalanx met together at his prescribed second of time without a signal or a sound and steamed a solid mass at 14 knots and dropped their anchors with one splash! Are we going to look at his like again?

‘So you had better have 2 keels to 1!

‘“The dusky hues of glorious War.” What a hymn for The Christian Year by a Saint like Keble!’

On the 14th January he wrote:—

‘I yesterday had an illuminating letter from Jellicoe.... He has all the Nelsonic attributes.... He writes to me of new designs. His one, one, one cry is SPEED! Do lay that to heart! Do remember the receipt for jugged hare in Mrs. Glasse’s Cookery Book! “First catch your hare!”... Also he advocates the “improved” gun and the far bigger ship and (it) will COST LESS.

‘“It’s your money we want,” as those Tariff Reform asses say!... Take my advice—2 keels to 1!’

The Cruiser Admirals however plumped for the Super-Blonde. Meanwhile, between the hammer and the anvil, Sir Philip Watts had scraped together another inch of armour, making 3 inches in all, and Sir Henry Oram guaranteed 30 or even 31 knots of speed.

Now for the guns. The proverbial three alternatives presented themselves. We could have ten 4–inch (32–lb. shell) or five 6–inch (100–lb. shell), or we could compromise on a blend of the two. The Cruiser Admirals’ Committee finally agreed on a compromise. Six 4–inch guns were to be mounted on the superstructure forward and two 6–inch on the main deck aft. It was denied that this arrangement was a compromise. It must be judged in relation to what the ship would have to do. When advancing to attack destroyers she could fire a large number of 32–lb. shots, each sufficient to wound them grievously; when retreating from a larger cruiser she could strike back with her two 6–inch guns. I personally insisted upon the two 6–inch. The Navy would never recognise these vessels as cruisers if they did not carry metal of that weight. The ultimate evolution of this type in subsequent years was to a uniform armament of five 6–inch.

We must now admit that this was right, but they were big guns to put in so small a ship, and many doubted whether the platform would be sufficiently stable. For the value then of the two Dartmouths and one Blonde which had been previously proposed, plus something scraped from other incidentals of the programme, plus a hope that the Chancellor of the Exchequer would not be too severe, we were able to lay down no less than eight of these new vessels. I presented them to Parliament in the following words:—

‘They are described as Light Armoured Cruisers, and they will in fact be the smallest, cheapest and fastest vessels protected by vertical armour ever projected for the British Navy. They are designed for attendance on the Battle Fleet. They are designed to be its eyes and ears by night and day; to watch over it in movement and at rest. They will be strong enough and fast enough to overhaul and cut down any torpedo boat destroyer afloat, and generally they will be available for the purposes of observation and reconnaissance.’

Judged by its popularity in peace and war this type may claim success. In the three programmes of 1912, 1913 and 1914, 8, 8, and 6 of them were built respectively, and after the war began no fewer than 18 more were built. The first eight fired their torpedoes from the deck as if they were destroyers. I put the greatest pressure on the constructors to give them underwater torpedo tubes, but they could not manage it in 1912. In 1913 this had been achieved, and was continued in all other vessels of this class. Such were the advantages of speed in Light Cruisers that not one of these vessels, nor the C Class, nor D Class which were their successors, although frequently engaged with the enemy, was ever sunk by gunfire. The first of these vessels from which the class was named was the Arethusa, and under the broad pennant of Commodore Tyrwhitt she established on an unchallengeable foundation the glories claimed of old for that ship.