But in the later stages of the struggle, when we began to gain a

preponderance, it was found that the method ceased to work. The attempt to

seek the enemy with a view to a decisive action was again and again

frustrated by his retiring to his own coasts, where either we could not

reach him or his facilities for retreat made a decisive result impossible.

He assumed, in fact, a defensive attitude with which we were powerless to

deal, and in the true spirit of defence he sprang out from time to time to

deal us a counterstroke as he saw his opportunity.

It was soon perceived that the only way of dealing with this attitude was

to adopt some means of forcing the enemy to sea and compelling him to

expose himself to the decision we sought. The most cogent means at hand was

to threaten his commerce. Instead, therefore, of attempting to seek out his

fleet directly, our own would sit upon the fairway of his homeward-bound

trade, either on the Dogger Bank or elsewhere, thereby setting up a

situation which it was hoped would cost him either his trade or his

battle-fleet, or possibly both. Thus in spite of the fact that with our

increasing preponderance our preoccupation with the idea of battle decision

had become stronger than ever, we found ourselves forced to fall back upon

subsidiary operations of an ulterior strategical character. It is a curious

paradox, but it is one that seems inherent in the special feature of naval

war, which permits the armed force to be removed from the board altogether.

The second distinguishing characteristic of naval warfare which relates to

the communication idea is not so well marked, but it is scarcely less

important. It will be recalled that this characteristic is concerned with

lines of communication in so far as they tend to determine lines of

operation. It is a simple question of roads and obstacles. In land warfare

we can determine with some precision the limits and direction of our

enemy's possible movements. We know that they must be determined mainly by

roads and obstacles. But afloat neither roads nor obstacles exist. There is

nothing of the kind on the face of the sea to assist us in locating him and

determining his movements. True it is that in sailing days his movements

were to some extent limited by prevailing winds and by the elimination of

impossible courses, but with steam even these determinants have gone, and

there is practically nothing to limit the freedom of his movement except

the exigencies of fuel. Consequently in seeking to strike our enemy the

liability to miss him is much greater at sea than on land, and the chances

of being eluded by the enemy whom we are seeking to bring to battle become

so serious a check upon our offensive action as to compel us to handle the

maxim of "Seeking out the enemy's fleet" with caution.

The difficulty obtruded itself from the moment the idea was born. It may be

traced back--so far at least as modern warfare is concerned--to Sir Francis

Drake's famous appreciation in the year of the Armada. This memorable

despatch was written when an acute difference of opinion had arisen as to

whether it were better to hold our fleet back in home waters or to send it

forward to the coast of Spain. The enemy's objective was very uncertain. We

could not tell whether the blow was to fall in the Channel or Ireland or

Scotland, and the situation was complicated by a Spanish army of invasion

ready to cross from the Flemish coast, and the possibility of combined

action by the Guises from France. Drake was for solving the problem by

taking station off the Armada's port of departure, and fully aware of the

risk such a move entailed, he fortified his purely strategical reasons with

moral considerations of the highest moment. But the Government was

unconvinced, not as is usually assumed out of sheer pusillanimity and lack

of strategical insight, but because the chances of Drake's missing contact

were too great if the Armada should sail before our own fleet could get

into position.

Our third elementary principle is the idea of concentration of effort, and

the third characteristic of naval warfare which clashes with it is that

over and above the duty of winning battles, fleets are charged with the

duty of protecting commerce. In land warfare, at least since laying waste

an undefended part of your enemy's country ceased to be a recognised

strategical operation, there is no corresponding deflection of purely

military operations. It is idle for purists to tell us that the deflection

of commerce protection should not be permitted to turn us from our main

purpose. We have to do with the hard facts of war, and experience tells us

that for economic reasons alone, apart from the pressure of public opinion,

no one has ever found it possible to ignore the deflection entirely. So

vital indeed is financial vigour in war, that more often than not the

maintenance of the flow of trade has been felt as a paramount

consideration. Even in the best days of our Dutch wars, when the whole plan

was based on ignoring the enemy's commerce as an objective, we found

ourselves at times forced to protect our own trade with seriously

disturbing results.

Nor is it more profitable to declare that the only sound way to protect

your commerce is to destroy the enemy's fleet. As an enunciation of a

principle it is a truism--no one would dispute it. As a canon of practical

strategy, it is untrue; for here our first deflection again asserts itself.

What are you to do if the enemy refuses to permit you to destroy his

fleets? You cannot leave your trade exposed to squadronal or cruiser raids

while you await your opportunity, and the more you concentrate your force

and efforts to secure the desired decision, the more you will expose your

trade to sporadic attack. The result is that you are not always free to

adopt the plan which is best calculated to bring your enemy to a decision.

You may find yourself compelled to occupy, not the best positions, but

those which will give a fair chance of getting contact in favourable

conditions, and at the same time afford reasonable cover for your trade.

Hence the maxim that the enemy's coast should be our frontier. It is not a

purely military maxim like that for seeking out the enemy's fleet, though

the two are often used as though they were interchangeable. Our usual

positions on the enemy's coast were dictated quite as much by the

exigencies of commerce protection as by primary strategical reasons. To

maintain a rigorous watch close off the enemy's ports was never the

likeliest way to bring him to decisive action--we have Nelson's well-known

declaration on the point--but it was the best way, and often the only way,

to keep the sea clear for the passage of our own trade and for the

operations of our cruisers against that of the enemy.

For the present these all-important points need not be elaborated further.

As we proceed to deal with the methods of naval warfare they will gather

force and lucidity. Enough has been said to mark the shoals and warn us

that, admirably constructed as is the craft which the military strategists

have provided for our use, we must be careful with our navigation.

But before proceeding further it is necessary to simplify what lies before

us by endeavouring to group the complex variety of naval operations into

manageable shape.

II. TYPICAL FORMS OF NAVAL OPERATIONS

In the conduct of naval war all operations will be found to relate to two

broad classes of object. The one is to obtain or dispute the command of the

sea, and the other to exercise such control of communications as we have,

whether the complete command has been secured or not.

It was on the logical and practical distinction between these two kinds of

naval object, as we have seen, that the constitution of fleets was based in

the fulness of the sailing period, when maritime wars were nearly incessant

and were shaping the existing distribution of power in the world. During

that period at any rate the dual conception lay at the root of naval

methods and naval policy, and as it is also the logical outcome of the

theory of war, we may safely take it as the basis of our analysis of the

conduct of naval operations.

Practically, of course, we can seldom assert categorically that any

operation of war has but one clearly defined object. A battle-squadron

whose primary function was to secure command was often so placed as to

enable it to exercise control; and, _vice versa_, cruiser lines intended

primarily to exercise control upon the trade routes were regarded as

outposts of the battle-fleet to give it warning of the movements of hostile

squadrons. Thus Cornwallis during his blockade of Brest had sometimes to

loosen his hold in order to cover the arrival of convoys against raiding

squadrons; and thus also when Nelson was asked by Lord Barham for his views

on cruiser patrol lines, he expressed himself as follows: "Ships on this

service would not only prevent the depredations of privateers, but be in

the way to watch any squadron of the enemy should they pass on their

track.... Therefore intelligence will be quickly conveyed, and the enemy

never, I think, lost sight of."[15] Instructions in this sense were issued

by Lord Barham to the commodores concerned. In both cases, it will be seen,

the two classes of operation overlapped. Still for purposes of analysis the

distinction holds good, and is valuable for obtaining a clear view of the

field.

[15] Nelson to Barham, 29 August 1805.

Take, first, the methods of securing command, by which we mean putting it

out of the enemy's power to use effectually the common communications or

materially to interfere with our use of them. We find the means employed

were two: decision by battle, and blockade. Of the two, the first was the

less frequently attainable, but it was the one the British service always

preferred. It was only natural that it should be so, seeing that our normal

position was one of preponderance over our enemy, and so long as the policy

of preponderance is maintained, the chances are the preference will also be

maintained.

But further than this, the idea seems to be rooted in the oldest traditions

of the Royal Navy. As we have seen, the conviction of the sea service that

war is primarily a question of battles, and that battles once joined on

anything like equal terms must be pressed to the last gasp, is one that has

had nothing to learn from more recent continental discoveries. The

Cromwellian admirals handed down to us the memory of battles lasting three,

and even four, days. Their creed is enshrined in the robust article of war

under which Byng and Calder were condemned; and in the apotheosis of Nelson

the service has deified the battle idea.

It is true there were periods when the idea seemed to have lost its colour,

but nevertheless it is so firmly embedded in the British conception of

naval warfare, that there would be nothing left to say but for the

unavoidable modification with which we have to temper the doctrine of

overthrow. "Use that means," said its best-known advocate, "when you can

and when you must." Devoutly as we may hold the battle faith, it is not

always possible or wise to act upon it. If we are strong, we press to the

issue of battle when we can. If we are weak, we do not accept the issue

unless we must. If circumstances are advantageous to us, we are not always

able to effect a decision; and if they are disadvantageous, we are not

always obliged to fight. Hence we find the apparently simple doctrine of

the battle was almost always entangled in two of the most difficult

problems that beset our old admirals. The most thorny questions they had to

decide were these. In the normal case of strength, it was not how to defeat

the enemy, but how to bring him to action; and in casual cases of temporary

weakness, it was not how to sell your life dearly, but how to maintain the

fleet actively on the defensive so as at once to deny the enemy the

decision he sought and to prevent his attaining his ulterior object.

From these considerations it follows that we are able to group all naval

operations in some such way as this. Firstly, on the only assumption we can

permit ourselves, namely, that we start with a preponderance of force or

advantage, we adopt methods for securing command. These methods, again,

fall under two heads. Firstly, there are operations for securing a decision

by battle, under which head, as has been explained, we shall be chiefly

concerned with methods of bringing an unwilling enemy to action, and with

the value to that end of the maxim of "Seeking out the enemy's fleet."

Secondly, there are the operations which become necessary when no decision

is obtainable and our war plan demands the immediate control of

communications. Under this head it will be convenient to treat all forms of

blockade, whether military or commercial, although, as we shall see,

certain forms of military, and even commercial, blockade are primarily

concerned with forcing the enemy to a decision.

Our second main group covers operations to which we have to resort when our

relative strength is not adequate for either class of operations to secure

command. In these conditions we have to content ourselves with endeavouring

to hold the command in dispute; that is, we endeavour by active defensive

operations to prevent the enemy either securing or exercising control for

the objects he has in view. Such are the operations which are connoted by

the true conception of "A fleet in being." Under this head also should fall

those new forms of minor counter-attack which have entered the field of

strategy since the introduction of the mobile torpedo and offensive mining.

In the third main group we have to deal with the methods of exercising

control of passage and communication. These operations vary in character

according to the several purposes for which the control is desired, and

they will be found to take one of three general forms. Firstly, the control

of the lines of passage of an invading army; secondly, the control of trade

routes and trade terminals for the attack and defence of commerce; and

thirdly, the control of passage and communication for our own oversea

expeditions, and the control of their objective area for the active support

of their operations.

For clearness we may summarise the whole in tabulated analysis, thus:--

1. Methods of securing command:

(a) By obtaining a decision.

(b) By blockade.

2. Methods of disputing command:

(a) Principle of "the fleet in being."

(b) Minor counter-attacks.

3. Methods of exercising command:

(a) Defence against invasion.

(b) Attack and defence of commerce.

(c) Attack, defence, and support of military expeditions.

* * * * *

CHAPTER TWO

METHODS OF SECURING COMMAND

* * * * *

I. ON OBTAINING A DECISION

Whatever the nature of the war in which we are engaged, whether it be

limited or unlimited, permanent and general command of the sea is the

condition of ultimate success. The only way of securing such a command by

naval means is to obtain a decision by battle against the enemy's fleet.

Sooner or later it must be done, and the sooner the better. That was the

old British creed. It is still our creed, and needs no labouring. No one

will dispute it, no one will care even to discuss it, and we pass with

confidence to the conclusion that the first business of our fleet is to

seek out the enemy's fleet and destroy it.

No maxim can so well embody the British spirit of making war upon the sea,

and nothing must be permitted to breathe on that spirit. To examine its

claim to be the logical conclusion of our theory of war will even be held

dangerous, yet nothing is so dangerous in the study of war as to permit

maxims to become a substitute for judgment. Let us examine its credentials,

and as a first step put it to the test of the two most modern instances.

Both of them, it must be noted, were instances of Limited War, the most

usual form of our own activities, and indeed the only one to which our war

organisation, with its essential preponderance of the naval element, has

ever been really adapted. The first instance is the Spanish-American War,

and the second that between Russia and Japan.

In the former case the Americans took up arms in order to liberate Cuba

from Spanish domination--a strictly limited object. There is no evidence

that the nature of the war was ever clearly formulated by either side, but

in just conformity with the general political conditions the American war

plan aimed at opening with a movement to secure the territorial object. At

the earliest possible moment they intended to establish themselves in the

west of Cuba in support of the Colonial insurgents. Everything depended on

the initiative being seized with decision and rapidity. Its moral and

physical importance justified the utmost risk, and such was the

conformation of the sea which the American army had to pass, that a

strictly defensive or covering attitude with their fleet could reduce the

risk almost to security. Yet so unwisely dominated were the Americans by

recently rediscovered maxims, that when on the eve of executing the vital

movement they heard a Spanish squadron was crossing the Atlantic, their own

covering force was diverted from its defensive position and sent away to

"seek out the enemy's fleet and destroy it."

Puerto Rico was the most obvious point at which to seek it, and thither

Admiral Sampson was permitted to go, regardless of the elementary truth

that in such cases what is obvious to you is also usually obvious to your

enemy. The result was that not only did the Americans fail to get contact,

but they also uncovered their own army's line of passage and paralysed the

initial movement. In the end it was only pure chance that permitted them to

retrieve the mistake they had made. Had the Spanish squadron put into a

Cuban port in railway communication with the main Royalist army, such as

Cienfuegos or Havana, instead of hurrying into Santiago, the whole campaign

must have been lost. "It appears now," wrote Admiral Mahan, in his _Lessons

of the War with Spain_, "not only that the eastward voyage of our Havana

division was unfortunate, but it should have been seen beforehand to be a

mistake, because inconsistent with a well and generally accepted principle

of war, the non-observance of which was not commanded by the conditions.

The principle is that which condemns eccentric movements. By the disregard

of rule in this case we uncovered both Havana and Cienfuegos, which it was

our object to close to the enemy's division."

Whether or not we regard Admiral Mahan's exposition of the error as

penetrating to the real principle that was violated, the movement was in

fact not only eccentric, but unnecessary. Had the Americans been content to

keep their fleet concentrated in its true defensive position, not only

would they have covered their army's line of passage and their blockade of

the territorial objective, but they would have had a far better chance of

bringing the Spaniards to action. The Spaniards were bound to come to them

or remain outside the theatre of operations where they could in no way

affect the issue of the war except adversely to themselves by sapping the

spirit of their own Cuban garrison. It is a clear case of the letter

killing the spirit, of an attractive maxim being permitted to shut the door

upon judgment. Strategical offence in this case was not the best defence.

"Seeking out the enemy's fleet" was almost bound to end in a blow in the

air, which not only would fail to gain any offensive result, but would

sacrifice the main defensive plank in the American war plan upon which

their offensive relied for success. To stigmatise such a movement as merely

eccentric is to pass very lenient censure.

In the Russo-Japanese War we have a converse case, in which judgment kept

the aphorism silent. It is true that during the earlier stage of the naval

operations the Japanese did in a sense seek out the enemy's fleet, in so

far as they advanced their base close to Port Arthur; but this was done,

not with any fixed intention of destroying the Russian fleet--there was

small hope of that at sea--but rather because by no other means could they

cover the army's lines of passage, which it was the function of the fleet

to secure, the true offensive operations being on land. Never except once,

under express orders from Tokio, did either Admiral Togo or Admiral

Kamimura press offensive movements in such a way as to jeopardise the

preventive duty with which the war plan charged them. Still less in the

later stage, when everything depended on the destruction of the Baltic

fleet, did Admiral Togo "seek it out." He was content, as the Americans

should have been content, to have set up such a situation that the enemy

must come and break it down if they were to affect the issue of the war. So

he waited on the defensive, assured his enemy must come to him, and thereby

he rendered it, as certain as war can be, that when the moment for the

tactical offensive came his blow should be sure and sudden, in overwhelming

strength of concentration, and decisive beyond all precedent.

Clearly, then, the maxim of "seeking out" for all its moral exhilaration,

for all its value as an expression of high and sound naval spirit, must not

be permitted to displace well-reasoned judgment. Trusty servant as it is,

it will make a bad master, as the Americans found to their serious

jeopardy. Yet we feel instinctively that it expresses, as no other aphorism

does, the secret of British success at sea. We cannot do without it; we

cannot do with it in its nakedness. Let us endeavour to clothe it with its

real meaning, with the true principles that it connotes. Let us endeavour

to determine the stuff that it is made of, and for this purpose there is no

better way than to trace its gradual growth from the days when it was born

of the crude and virile instinct of the earliest masters.

The germ is to be found in the despatch already mentioned which Drake wrote

from Plymouth at the end of March in 1588. His arguments were not purely

naval, for it was a combined problem, a problem of defence against

invasion, that had to be solved. What he wished to persuade the Government

was, that the kernel of the situation was not so much Parma's army of

invasion in Flanders, as the fleet that was preparing in Spain to clear its

passage. The Government appeared to be acting on the opposite view. Howard

with the bulk of the fleet was at the base in the Medway within supporting

distance of the light squadron that was blockading the Flemish ports in

concert with the Dutch. Drake himself with another light squadron had been

sent to the westward with some indeterminate idea of his serving as an

observation squadron, or being used in the mediaeval fashion for an

eccentric counterstroke. Being invited to give his opinion on this

disposition, he pronounced it vicious. In his eyes, what was demanded was

an offensive movement against the enemy's main fleet. "If there may be such

a stay or stop made," he urged, "by any means of this fleet in Spain, so

that they may not come through the seas as conquerors, then shall the

Prince of Parma have such a check thereby as were meet." What he had in his

mind is clearly not so much a decision in the open as an interruption of

the enemy's incomplete mobilisation, such as he had so brilliantly effected

the previous year. For later on he says that "Next under God's mighty

protection the advantage of time and place will be the only and chief means

for our good, wherein I most humbly beseech your good lordships to

persevere as you have begun, for with fifty sail of shipping we shall do

more upon their own coast than a great many more will do here at home; and

the sooner we are gone, the better we shall be able to impeach them." He

does not say "destroy." "Impeach" meant "to prevent."

Clearly, then, what he had in his mind was a repetition of the previous

year's strategy, whereby he had been able to break up the Spanish

mobilisation and "impeach" the Armada from sailing. He did not even ask for

a concentration of the whole fleet for the purpose, but only that his own

squadron should be reinforced as was thought convenient. The actual reasons

he gave for his advice were purely moral--that is, he dwelt on the

enheartening effect of striking the first blow, and attacking instead of

waiting to be attacked. The nation, he urged, "will be persuaded that the

Lord will put into Her Majesty and her people courage and boldness not to

fear invasion, but to seek God's enemies and Her Majesty's where they may

be found."

Here is the germ of the maxim. The consequence of his despatch was a

summons to attend the Council. The conference was followed, not by the half

measure, which was all he had ventured to advise in his despatch, but by

something that embodied a fuller expression of his general idea, and

closely resembled what was to be consecrated as our regular disposition in

such cases. The whole of the main fleet, except the squadron watching the

Flemish coast, was massed to the westward to cover the blockade of Parma's

transports, but the position assigned to it was inside the Channel instead

of outside, which tactically was bad, for it was almost certain to give the

Armada the weather gage. No movement to the coast of Spain was

permitted--not necessarily, be it remembered, out of pusillanimity or

failure to grasp Drake's idea, but for fear that, as in the recent American

case, a forward movement was likely to result in a blow in the air, and to

uncover the vital position without bringing the enemy to action.

When, however, the sailing of the Armada was so long delayed Drake's

importunity was renewed, with that of Howard and all his colleagues to back

it. It brought eventually the desired permission. The fleet sailed for

Coruña, where it was known the Armada, after an abortive start from Lisbon,

had been driven by bad weather, and something like what the Government

feared happened. Before it could reach its destination it met southerly

gales, its offensive power was exhausted, and it had to return to Plymouth

impotent for immediate action as the Armada finally sailed. When the

Spaniards appeared it was still in port refitting and victualling. It was

only by an unprecedented feat of seamanship that the situation was saved,

and Howard was able to gain the orthodox position to seaward of his enemy.

So far, then, the Government's cautious clinging to a general defensive

attitude, instead of seeking out the enemy's fleet, was justified, but it

must be remembered that Drake from the first had insisted it was a question

of time as well as place. If he had been permitted to make the movement

when he first proposed it, there is good reason to believe that the final

stages of the Spanish mobilisation could not have been carried out that

year; that is to say, the various divisions of the Armada could not have

been assembled into a fleet. But information as to its condition was at the

time very uncertain, and in view of the negotiations that were on foot,

there were, moreover, high political reasons for our not taking too drastic

an offensive if a reasonable alternative existed.

The principles, then, which we distil from this, the original case of

"seeking out," are, firstly, the moral value of seizing the initiative,

and, secondly, the importance of striking before the enemy's mobilisation

is complete. The idea of overthrow by a great fleet action is not present,

unless we find it in a not clearly formulated idea of the Elizabethan

admirals of striking a fleet when it is demoralised, as the Armada was by

its first rebuff, or immediately on its leaving port before it had settled

down.

In our next naval struggle with the Dutch in the latter half of the

seventeenth century the principle of overthrow, as we have seen, became

fully developed. It was the keynote of the strategy which was evolved, and

the conditions which forced it to recognition also emphasised the

principles of seeking out and destroying. It was a case of a purely naval

struggle, in which there were no military considerations to deflect naval

strategy. It was, moreover, a question of narrow seas, and the risk of

missing contact which had cramped the Elizabethans in their oceanic theatre

was a negligible factor. Yet fresh objections to using the "seeking out"

maxim as a strategical panacea soon declared themselves.

The first war opened without any trace of the new principle. The first

campaign was concerned in the old fashion entirely with the attack and

defence of trade, and such indecisive actions as occurred were merely

incidental to the process. No one appears to have realised the fallacy of

such method except, perhaps, Tromp. The general instructions he received

were that "the first and principal object was to do all possible harm to

the English," and to that end "he was given a fleet in order to sail to the

damage and offence of the English fleet, and also to give convoy to the

west." Seeing at once the incompatibility of the two functions, he asked

for more definite instructions. What, for instance, was he to do if he

found a chance of blockading the main English fleet at its base? Was he to

devote himself to the blockade and "leave the whole fleet of merchantmen to

be a prey to a squadron of fast-sailing frigates," or was he to continue

his escort duty? Full as he was of desire to deal with the enemy's main

fleet, he was perplexed with the practical difficulty--too often

forgotten--that the mere domination of the enemy's battle strength does not

solve the problem of control of the sea. No fresh instructions were

forthcoming to clear his perplexity, and he could only protest again. "I

could wish," he wrote, "to be so fortunate as to have only one of these two

duties--to seek out the enemy, or to give convoy, for to do both is

attended with great difficulties."

The indecisive campaign which naturally resulted from this lack of

strategical grip and concentration of effort came to an end with Tromp's

partial defeat of Blake off Dungeness on 30th November 1652. Though charged

in spite of his protests with a vast convoy, the Dutch admiral had sent it

back to Ostend when he found Blake was in the Downs, and then, free from

all preoccupation, he had gone to seek out his enemy.

It was the effect which this unexpected blow had upon the strong military

insight of the Cromwellian Government that led to those famous reforms

which made this winter so memorable a landmark in British naval history.

Monk, the most finished professional soldier in the English service, and

Deane, another general, were joined in the command with Blake, and with

their coming was breathed into the sea service the high military spirit of

the New Model Army. To that winter we owe not only the Articles of War,

which made discipline possible, and the first attempt to formulate Fighting

Instructions, in which a regular tactical system was conceived, but also

two other conceptions that go to make up the modern idea of naval warfare.

One was the conviction that war upon the sea meant operations against the

enemy's armed fleets in order to destroy his power of naval resistance as

distinguished from operations by way of reprisal against his trade; and the

other, that such warfare required for its effective use a fleet of

State-owned ships specialised for war, with as little assistance as

possible from private-owned ships. It was not unnatural that all four ideas

should have taken shape together, so closely are they related. The end

connotes the means. Discipline, fleet tactics, and a navy of warships were

indispensable for making war in the modern sense of the term.

The results were seen in the three great actions of the following spring,

the first under the three Generals, and the other two under Monk alone. In

the last, he carried the new ideas so far as to forbid taking possession of

disabled vessels, that nothing might check the work of destruction. All

were to be sunk with as much tenderness for human life as destruction would

permit. In like manner the second war was characterised by three great

naval actions, one of which, after Monk had resumed command, lasted no less

than four days. The new doctrine was indeed carried to exaggeration. So

entirely was naval thought centred on the action of the battle-fleets, that

no provision was made for an adequate exercise of control. In our own case

at least, massing for offensive action was pressed so far that no thought

was given to sustaining it by reliefs. Consequently our offensive power

suffered periods of exhaustion when the fleet had to return to its base,

and the Dutch were left sufficient freedom not only to secure their own

trade, but to strike severely at ours. Their counterstrokes culminated in

the famous attack upon Sheerness and Chatham. That such an opportunity was

allowed them can be traced directly to an exaggeration of the new doctrine.

In the belief of the British Government the "St. James's Fight"--the last

of the three actions--had settled the question of command. Negotiations for

peace were opened, and they were content to reap the fruit of the great

battles in preying on Dutch trade. Having done its work, as was believed,

the bulk of the battle-fleet for financial reasons was laid up, and the

Dutch seized the opportunity to demonstrate the limitations of the abused

doctrine. The lesson is one we have never forgotten, but its value is half

lost if we attribute the disaster to lack of grasp of the battle-fleet

doctrine rather than to an exaggeration of its possibilities.

The truth is, that we had not obtained a victory sufficiently decisive to

destroy the enemy's fleet. The most valuable lesson of the war was that

such victories required working for, and particularly in cases where the

belligerents face each other from either side of a narrow sea. In such

conditions it was proved that owing to the facility of retreat and the

restricted possibilities of pursuit a complete decision is not to be looked

for without very special strategical preparation. The new doctrine in fact

gave that new direction to strategy which has been already referred to. It

was no longer a question of whether to make the enemy's trade or his fleet

the primary objective, but of how to get contact with his fleet in such a

way as to lead to decisive action. Merely to seek him out on his own coasts

was to ensure that no decisive action would take place. Measures had to be

taken to force him to sea away from his own bases. The favourite device was

to substitute organised strategical operations against his trade in place

of the old sporadic attacks; that is, the fleet took a position calculated

to stop his trade altogether, not on his own coasts, but far to sea in the

main fairway. The operations failed for lack of provision for enabling the

fleet by systematic relief to retain its position, but nevertheless it was

the germ of the system which afterwards, under riper organisation, was to

prove so effective, and to produce such actions as the "Glorious First of

June."

In the third war, after this device had failed again and again, a new one

was tried. It was Charles the Second's own conception. His idea was to use

the threat of a military expedition. Some 15,000 men in transports were

brought to Yarmouth in the hope that the Dutch would come out to bar their

passage across the open North Sea, and would thus permit our fleet to cut

in behind them. There was, however, no proper coordination of the two

forces, and the project failed.

This method of securing a decision was not lost sight of; Anson tried to

use it in the Seven Years' War. For two years every attempt to seek out the

enemy's fleet had led to nothing but the exhaustion of our own. But when

Pitt began his raids on the French coast, Anson, who had little faith in

their value for military purposes, thought he saw in them definite naval

possibilities. Accordingly when, in 1758, he was placed in command of the

Channel Fleet to cover the expedition against St. Malo, he raised the

blockade of Brest, and took up a position near the Isle of Batz between the

enemy's main fleet and the army's line of passage. The Brest fleet,

however, was in no condition to move, and again there was no result. It was

not till 1805 that there was any clear case of the device succeeding, and

then it was not used deliberately. It was a joint Anglo-Russian expedition

in the Mediterranean that forced from Napoleon his reckless order for

Villeneuve to put to sea from Cadiz, and so solved the problem out of which

Nelson had seen no issue. Lissa may be taken as an analogous case. But

there the Italians, treating the territorial attack as a real attack

instead of as a strategical device, suffered themselves to be surprised by

the Austrian fleet and defeated.

This instance serves well to introduce the important fact, that although

our own military expeditions have seldom succeeded in leading to a naval

decision, the converse was almost always true. The attempt of the enemy to

use his army against our territory has been the most fertile source of our

great naval victories. The knowledge that our enemy intends to invade these

shores, or to make some serious expedition against our oversea dominions or

interests, should always be welcomed. Unless History belie herself, we know

that such attempts are the surest means of securing what we want. We have

the memories of La Hogue, Quiberon, and the Nile to assure us that sooner

or later they must lead to a naval decision, and the chance of a real

decision is all we can ask of the Fortune of War.

Enough has now been said to show that "seeking out the enemy's fleet" is

not in itself sufficient to secure such a decision. What the maxim really

means is that we should endeavour from the first to secure contact in the

best position for bringing about a complete decision in our favour, and as

soon as the other parts of our war plan, military or political, will

permit. If the main offensive is military, as it was in the Japanese and

American cases, then if possible the effort to secure such control must be

subordinated to the movement of the army, otherwise we give the defensive

precedence of the offensive. If, however, the military offensive cannot be

ensured until the naval defensive is perfected, as will be the case if the

enemy brings a fleet up to our army's line of passage, then our first move

must be to secure naval contact.

The vice of the opposite method of procedure is obvious. If we assume the

maxim that the first duty of our fleet is to seek out the enemy wherever he

may be, it means in its nakedness that we merely conform to the enemy's

dispositions and movements. It is open to him to lead us wherever he likes.

It was one of the fallacies that underlay all Napoleon's naval

combinations, that he believed that our hard-bitten admirals would behave

in this guileless manner. But nothing was further from their cunning. There

is a typical order of Cornwallis's which serves well to mark their

attitude. It was one he gave to Admiral Cotton, his second in command, in

July 1804 on handing over to his charge the Western Squadron off Ushant:

"If the French put to sea," he says, "without any of your vessels seeing

them, do not follow them, unless you are absolutely sure of the course they

have taken. If you leave the entrance of the Channel without protection,

the enemy might profit by it, and assist the invasion which threatens His

Majesty's dominions, the protection of which is your principal object."

It is indeed a common belief that Nelson never permitted himself but a

single purpose, the pursuit of the enemy's fleet, and that, ignoring the

caution which Cornwallis impressed upon Cotton, he fell into the simple

trap. But it has to be noted that he never suffered himself to be led in

pursuit of a fleet away from the position he had been charged to maintain,

unless and until he had made that position secure behind him. His famous

chase to the West Indies is the case which has led to most misconception on

the point from an insufficient regard to the surrounding circumstances.

Nelson did not pursue Villeneuve with the sole, or even the primary, object

of bringing him to action. His dominant object was to save Jamaica from

capture. If it had only been a question of getting contact, he would

certainly have felt in a surer position by waiting for Villeneuve's return

off St. Vincent or closing in to the strategical centre off Ushant.

Further, it must be observed that Nelson by his pursuit did not uncover

what it was his duty to defend. The Mediterranean position was rendered

quite secure before he ventured on his eccentric movement. Finally, we have

the important fact that though the moral effect of Nelson's implacable

persistence and rapidity was of priceless value, it is impossible to show

that as a mere strategical movement it had any influence on the course of

the campaign. His appearance in the West Indies may have saved one or two

small islands from ransom and a good deal of trade from capture. It may

also have hastened Villeneuve's return by a few days, but that was not to

our advantage. Had he returned even a week later there would have been no

need to raise the Rochefort blockade. Barham would have had enough ships at

his command to preserve the whole of his blockades, as he had intended to

do till the _Curieux's_ news of Villeneuve's precipitate return forced his

hand before he was ready.

If we desire a typical example of the way the old masters used the doctrine

of seeking out, it is to be found, not in Nelson's magnificent chase, but

in the restrained boldness of Barham's orders to Cornwallis and Calder.

Their instructions for seeking out Villeneuve were to move out on his two

possible lines of approach for such a time and such a distance as would

make decisive action almost certain, and at the same time, if contact were

missed, would ensure the preservation of the vital defensive positions.

Barham was far too astute to play into Napoleon's hands, and by blindly

following his enemy's lead to be jockeyed into sacrificing the position

which his enemy wished to secure. If our maxim be suffered to usurp the

place of instructed judgment, the almost inevitable result will be that it

will lead us into just the kind of mistake which Barham avoided.

II. BLOCKADE

Under the term blockade we include operations which vary widely in

character and in strategical intention. In the first place, blockade may be

either naval or commercial. By naval blockade we seek either to prevent an

enemy's armed force leaving port, or to make certain it shall be brought to

action before it can carry out the ulterior purpose for which it puts to

sea. That armed force may be purely naval, or it may consist wholly or in

part of a military expedition. If it be purely naval, then our blockade is

a method of securing command. If it be purely military, it is a method of

exercising command, and as such will be dealt with when we come to consider

defence against invasion. But in so far as military expeditions are

normally accompanied by a naval escort, operations to prevent their sailing

are not purely concerned with the exercise of command. Naval blockade,

therefore, may be regarded for practical purposes as a method of securing

command and as a function of battle-squadrons. Commercial blockade, on the

other hand, is essentially a method of exercising command, and is mainly an

affair of cruisers. Its immediate object is to stop the flow of the enemy's

sea-borne trade, whether carried in his own or neutral bottoms, by denying

him the use of trade communications.

From the point of view of the conduct of war, therefore, we have two

well-defined categories of blockade, naval and commercial. But our

classification must go further; for naval blockade itself is equally varied

in intention, and must be subdivided. Strictly speaking, the term implies a

desire to close the blockaded port and to prevent the enemy putting to sea.

But this was not always the intention. As often as not our wish was that he

should put to sea that we might bring him to action, and in order to do

this, before he could effect his purpose, we had to watch the port with a

fleet more or less closely. For this operation there was no special name.

Widely as it differed in object from the other, it was also usually called

blockade, and Nelson's protest against the consequent confusion of thought

is well known. "It is not my intention," he said, "to close-watch Toulon";

and again, "My system is the very contrary of blockading. Every opportunity

has been offered the enemy to put to sea." It is desirable, therefore, to

adopt terms to distinguish the two forms. "Close" and "open" express the

antithesis suggested by Nelson's letter, and the two terms serve well

enough to mark the characteristic feature of each operation. Close

blockade, it is true, as formerly conceived, is generally regarded as no

longer practicable; but the antithetical ideas, which the two forms of

blockade connote, can never be eliminated from strategical consideration.

It must always be with the relations of these two forms, whatever shape

they may take in future, that the strategy of naval blockade is chiefly

concerned.

With regard to commercial blockade, in strict analysis it should be

eliminated from an inquiry that concerns methods of securing command and

postponed to that section of exercising command which deals with the attack

and defence of trade. It is, however, necessary to treat certain of its

aspects in conjunction with naval blockade for two reasons: one, that as a

rule naval blockade is indissolubly united to a subordinate commercial

blockade; and the other, that the commercial form, though its immediate

object is the exercise of control, has almost invariably an ulterior object

which is concerned with securing control; that is to say, while its

immediate object was to keep the enemy's commercial ports closed, its

ulterior object was to force his fleet to sea.

Commercial blockade, therefore, has an intimate relation with naval

blockade in its open form. We adopt that form when we wish his fleet to put

to sea, and commercial blockade is usually the most effective means we have

of forcing upon him the movement we leave him free to attempt. By closing

his commercial ports we exercise the highest power of injuring him which

the command of the sea can give us. We choke the flow of his national

activity afloat in the same way that military occupation of his territory

chokes it ashore. He must, therefore, either tamely submit to the worst

which a naval defeat can inflict upon him, or he must fight to release

himself. He may see fit to choose the one course or the other, but in any

case we can do no more by naval means alone to force our will upon him.

In the long run a rigorous and uninterrupted blockade is almost sure to

exhaust him before it exhausts us, but the end will be far and costly. As a

rule, therefore, we have found that where we had a substantial predominance

our enemy preferred to submit to commercial blockade in hope that by the

chances of war or the development of fresh force he might later on be in a

better position to come out into the open. That he should come out and

stake the issue in battle was nearly always our wish, and it was obvious

that too rigorous a naval blockade was not the way to achieve the desired

end, or to reap the strategical result which we might expect from

paralysing his commerce. Consequently where the desire for a decision at

sea was not crossed by higher military considerations, as in the case of

imminent invasion, or where we ourselves had an important expedition in

hand, it was to our interest to incline the enemy's mind towards the bolder

choice.

The means was to tempt him with a prospect of success, either by leading

him to believe the blockading force was smaller than it was, or by removing

it to such a distance as would induce him to attempt to evade it, or both.

A leading case of such an open blockade was Nelson's disposition of his

fleet off Cadiz when he was seeking to bring Villeneuve to action in 1805.

But merely to leave a port open does not fulfil the idea of open blockade,

and in this case to opportunity and temptation Nelson added the pressure of

a commercial blockade of the adjacent ports in hope of starving Villeneuve

into the necessity of taking to the sea.

Finally, in a general comparison of the two forms, we have to observe that

close blockade is characteristically a method of securing local and

temporary command. Its dominating purpose will usually be to prevent the

enemy's fleet acting in a certain area and for a certain purpose. Whereas

open blockade, in that it aims at the destruction of an enemy's naval

force, is a definite step towards securing permanent command.

Enough has now been said to show that the question of choice between close

and open blockade is one of extreme complexity. Our naval literature, it is

true, presents the old masters as divided into two schools on the subject,

implying that one was in favour of the close form always, and the other of

the open form. We are even led to believe that the choice depended on the

military spirit of the officer concerned. If his military spirit was high,

he chose the close and more exacting form; if it were low, he was content

with the open and less exacting form. True, we are told that men of the

latter school based their objections to close blockade on the excessive

wear and tear of a fleet that it involved, but it is too often suggested

that this attitude was no more than a mask for a defective spirit. Seldom

if ever are we invited to compare their decisions with the attendant

strategical intention, with the risks which the conditions justified, or

with the expenditure of energy which the desired result could legitimately

demand. Yet all these considerations must enter into the choice, and on

closer examination of the leading cases it will be found that they bear a

striking and almost constant relation to the nature of the blockade

employed.

In considering open blockade, three postulates must be kept in mind.

Firstly, since our object is to get the enemy to sea, our position must be

such as will give him an opportunity of doing so. Secondly, since we desire

contact for a decisive battle, that position must be no further away from

his port than is compatible with bringing him to action before he can

effect his purpose. Thirdly, there is the idea of economy--that is, the

idea of adopting the method which is least exhausting to our fleet, and

which will best preserve its battle fitness. It is on the last point that

the greatest difference of opinion has existed. A close blockade always

tended to exhaust a fleet, and always must do so. But, on the other hand,

it was contended that the exhaustion is compensated by the high temper and

moral domination which the maintenance of a close blockade produces in a

good fleet, whereas the comparative ease of distant and secure watch tended

to deterioration. Before considering these opposed views, one warning is

necessary. It is usually assumed that the alternative to close blockade is

watching the enemy from one of our own ports, but this is not essential.

What is required is an interior and, if possible, a secret position which

will render contact certain; and with modern developments in the means of

distant communication, such a position is usually better found at sea than

in port. A watching position can in fact be obtained free from the strain

of dangerous navigation and incessant liability to attack without sacrifice

of sea training. With this very practical point in mind, we may proceed to

test the merits of the two forms on abstract principles.

It was always obvious that a close naval blockade was one of the weakest

and least desirable forms of war. Here again when we say "weakest" we do

not mean "least effective," but that it was exhausting, and that it tended

to occupy a force greater than that against which it was acting. This was

not because a blockading fleet, tempered and toughened by its watch, and

with great advantage of tactical position, could not be counted on to

engage successfully a raw fleet of equal force issuing from port, but

because in order to maintain its active efficiency it required large

reserves for its relief. So severe was the wear and tear both to men and

ships, that even the most strenuous exponents of the system considered that

at least a fifth of the force should always be refitting, and in every case

two admirals were employed to relieve one another. In 1794 one of the

highest authorities in the service considered that to maintain an effective

close blockade of Brest two complete sets of flag-officers were necessary,

and that no less than one-fourth of the squadron should always be in

port.[16]

[16] Captain Philip Patton to Sir Charles Middleton, 27 June 1794.

_Barham Papers_, ii, 393. Patton had probably wider war experience than

any officer then living. He was regarded as possessing a very special

knowledge of personnel, and as vice admiral became second sea lord under

Barham in 1804.

Now these weaknesses, being inherent in close blockade, necessarily

affected the appreciation of its value. The weight of the objection tended

of course to decrease as seamanship, material, or organisation improved,

but it was always a factor. It is true also that it seems to have had more

weight with some men than with others, but it will appear equally true, if

we endeavour to trace the movement of opinion on the subject, that it was

far from being the sole determinant.

It was in the Seven Years' War under Anson's administration that continuous

and close blockade was first used systematically, but it was Hawke who

originated it. In the first three campaigns the old system of watching

Brest from a British western port had been in vogue, but it had twice

failed to prevent a French concentration in the vital Canadian theatre. In

the spring of 1759 Hawke was in command of the Channel Fleet with the usual

instructions for watching, but being directed to stand over and look into

Brest, he intimated his intention, unless he received orders to the

contrary, to remain off the port instead of returning to Torbay. His reason

was that he had found there a squadron which he believed was intended for

the West Indies, and he considered it better to prevent its sailing than to

let it put to sea and try to catch it. In other words, he argued that none

of the usual western watching ports afforded a position interior to the

usual French route from Brest to the West Indies.

Since rumours of invasion were in the air, it was obviously the better

course to deal with the enemy's squadrons in home waters and avoid

dispersal of the fleet in seeking them out. In spite of extraordinarily bad

weather, therefore, he was permitted to act as he advised. With Boscawen as

relief, the new form of blockade was kept up thenceforward, and with entire

success. But it must be noted that this success was rather due to the fact

that the French made no further effort to cross the Atlantic, than to the

fact that the blockade was maintained with sufficient strictness to prevent

their doing so. In certain states of weather our fleet was forced to raise

the blockade and run to Torbay or Plymouth. Such temporary reversions to

the open form nearly always afforded an opportunity for the French to get

away to the southward with two or three days' start. Against any attempt,

however, to get to the east or the north in order to dispute command of the

Channel or other home waters the system was thoroughly efficient, and was

unaffected by the intervals of the open form.

It may have been these considerations which in the War of American

Independence induced so fine an officer as Howe to be strongly in favour of

a reversion to the old system. The vital theatre was then again across the

Atlantic, and there was no serious preparation for invasion. It should also

be borne in mind in judging Howe against Hawke, that in the Seven Years'

War we had such a preponderance at sea as permitted ample reserves to

nourish a close blockade, whereas in the latter war we were numerically

inferior to the hostile coalition. Since it was impossible to prevent the

French reaching the West Indies and North America if they so determined,

our policy was to follow them with equal fleets and reduce the home force

as low as that policy demanded and as was consistent with a reasonable

degree of safety. The force required might well be inferior to the enemy,

since it was certain that all attempts upon the Channel would be made with

an unwieldy and ill-knit force composed of Spanish and French units.

In Howe's opinion this particular situation was not to be solved by

attempting to close Brest, and nothing can be more misleading than to

stretch such an opinion beyond the circumstances it was intended to meet.

He did not consider it was in his power to close the port. The enemy, he

held, could always be in readiness to escape after a gale of wind by which

the blockading squadron would be drawn off or dispersed, the ships much

damaged, and the enemy enheartened. "An enemy," he said, "is not to be

restrained from putting to sea by a station taken off their port with a

barely superior squadron." The experience of 1805 appears to contradict

him. Then a barely superior squadron did succeed in preventing Ganteaume's

exit, but though the squadron actually employed was barely superior, it had

ample fleet reserves to sustain its numbers in efficiency. It was,

moreover, only for a short time that it had to deal with any real effort to

escape. After May 20th, Ganteaume was forbidden to put to sea. There were

certainly several occasions during that famous blockade when he could have

escaped to the southward had Napoleon wished it.

This case, then, cannot be taken to condemn Howe's judgment. His special

function in the war plan was, with a force reduced to defensive strength,

to prevent the enemy obtaining command of our home waters. It was certainly

not his duty to undertake operations to which his force was not equal. His

first duty was to keep it in being for its paramount purpose. To this end

he decided on open blockade based on a general reserve at Spithead or St.

Helen's, where he could husband the ships and train his recruits, while at

the same time he protected our trade and communications and harassed those

of the enemy. Kempenfelt, than whom there was no warmer advocate of

activity, entirely approved the policy at least for the winter months, and

in his case no one will be found to suggest that the idea was prompted by

lack of spirit or love of ease. So far as the summer was concerned there

was really little difference of opinion as to whether the fleet should be

kept at sea or not, for sea-training during summer more than compensated

for the exhaustion of material likely to be caused by intermittent spells

of bad weather. Even for the winter the two policies came to much the same

thing. Thus in Hawke's blockade at the end of 1759, during the critical

month from mid-October to mid-November, he was unable to keep his station

for nearly half the time, and when he did get contact with Conflans it was

from Torbay and not Ushant. Still it may be doubted if without the

confidence bred of his stormy vigil the battle of Quiberon would have been

fought as it was.

With all this experience fresh in his mind Kempenfelt frankly advocated

keeping the fleet in port for the winter. "Suppose," he wrote from Torbay

in November 1779, "the enemy should put to sea with their fleet (that is,

from Brest)--a thing much to be wished for by us--let us act wisely and

keep ours in port. Leave them to the mercy of long nights and hard gales.

They will do more in favour of you than your fleet can." Far better he

thought to devote the winter to preparing the fleet for the next campaign

so as to have "the advantage of being the first in the field." "Let us," he

concluded, "keep a stout squadron to the westward ready to attend the

motions of the enemy. I don't mean to keep them at sea, disabling

themselves in buffeting the winds, but at Torbay ready to act as

intelligence may suggest."[17] It will be seen, therefore, that the

conclusion that close blockade was always the best means of rendering the

fleet most efficient for the function it had to perform must not be

accepted too hastily. The reasons which induced Howe and Kempenfelt to

prefer open blockade were mainly based on this very consideration. Having

in mind the whole of the surrounding conditions, in their highly

experienced opinion careful preparation in the winter and tactical

evolutions in the summer were the surest road to battle fitness in the

force available.

[17] _Barham Papers_, i, 302.

On the other hand, we have the fact that during the War of American

Independence the open system was not very successful. But before condemning

it out of hand, it must be remembered that the causes of failure were not

all inherent in the system. In the first place, the need of relieving

Gibraltar from time to time prevented the Western Squadron devoting itself

entirely to its watch. In the next place, owing to defective administration

the winters were not devoted with sufficient energy to preparing the fleet

to be first in the field in the spring. Finally, we have to recognise that

the lack of success was due not so much to permitting the French to cross

the Atlantic, as to the failure to deal faithfully with them when contact

was obtained at their destination. Obviously there is nothing to be said

for the policy of "seeking out" as against that of preventing exit unless

you are determined when you find to destroy or to be destroyed. It was here

that Rodney and his fellows were found wanting. The system failed from

defective execution quite as much as from defective design.

In the next war Howe was still in the ascendant and in command of the

Channel fleet. He retained his system. Leaving Brest open he forced the

French by operating against their trade to put to sea, and he was rewarded

with the battle of the First of June. No attempt was made to maintain a

close blockade during the following winter. The French were allowed to

sail, and their disastrous cruise of January 1795 fully justified

Kempenfelt's anticipations. So great was the damage done that they

abandoned all idea of using their fleet as a whole. Howe's system was

continued, but no longer with entirely successful results. In 1796 the

French were able to make descents upon Ireland, and Howe in consequence has

come in for the severest castigations. His method is contemptuously

contrasted with that which St. Vincent adopted four years later, without

any regard to the situation each admiral had to meet, and again on the

assumption that the closing of Brest would have solved the one problem as

well as it did the other.

In 1796 we were not on the defensive as we were in 1800. The French fleet

had been practically destroyed. No invasion threatened. With a view to

forcing peace our policy was directed to offensive action against French

trade and territory in order by general pressure to back our overtures for

a settlement. The policy may have been mistaken, but that is not the

question. The question is, whether or not the strategy fitted the policy.

We were also, it must be remembered, at war with Holland and expecting war

with Spain, an eventuality which forced us to keep an eye on the defence of

Portugal. In these circumstances nothing was further from our desire than

to keep what was left of the Brest fleet in port. Our hope was by our

offensive action against French maritime interests to force it to expose

itself for their defence. To devote the fleet to the closing of Brest was

to cripple it for offensive action and to play the enemy's game. The actual

disposition of the home fleet was designed so as to preserve its offensive

activity, and at the same time to ensure superiority in any part of the

home waters in which the enemy might attempt a counterstroke. It was

distributed in three active squadrons, one in the North Sea, one before

Brest, and one cruising to the westward, with a strong reserve at

Portsmouth. It is the location of the reserve that has been most lightly

ridiculed, on the hasty assumption that it was merely the reserve of the

squadron before Brest; whereas in truth it was a general reserve designed

to act in the North Sea or wherever else it might be needed. At the same

time it served as a training and depot squadron for increasing our power at

sea in view of the probable addition of the Spanish fleet to Napoleon's

naval force. To have exhausted our fleet merely to prevent raids leaving

Brest which might equally well leave the Texel or Dunkirk was just what the

enemy would have desired. The disposition was in fact a good example of

concentration--that is, disposal about a strategical centre to preserve

flexibility for offence without risking defensive needs, and yet it is by

the most ardent advocates of concentration and the offensive that Howe's

dispositions at this time have been most roundly condemned.

In the end the disposition did fail to prevent the landing of part of the

force intended for Ireland, but it made the venture so difficult that it

had to be deferred till mid-winter, and then the weather which rendered

evasion possible broke up the expedition and denied it all chance of

serious success. It was, in fact, another example of the working of

Kempenfelt's rule concerning winter weather. So far as naval defence can

go, the disposition was all that was required. The Irish expedition was

seen leaving Brest by our inshore cruiser squadron. It was reported to

Colpoys, who had the battle-squadron outside, and it was only a dense fog

that enabled it to escape. It was, in fact, nothing more than the evasion

of a small raiding force--an eventuality against which no naval defence can

provide certain guarantee, especially in winter.

It was under wholly different conditions that at the end of 1800 Hawke's

system was revived. St. Vincent's succession to the control of the fleet

coincided with Napoleon's definite assumption of the control of the

destinies of France. Our great duel with him had begun. The measures he was

taking made it obvious we were once more facing the old life and death

struggle for naval supremacy; we were openly threatened with invasion, and

we had a distinct preponderance at sea. In short, we have to recognize the

fact that the methods of the Seven Years' War were revived when the

problems and factors of that war were renewed. As those problems grew more

intense, as they did after the Peace of Amiens, and the threat of invasion

became really formidable, so did the rigour of the close blockade increase.

Under Cornwallis and Gardner it was maintained in such a way as to deny, so

far as human effort could go, all possibility of exit without fighting. In

spite of the importance of dealing with the enemy's squadrons in detail no

risks were taken to bring Ganteaume to decisive action. Our first necessity

was absolute local command. The acuteness of the invasion crisis demanded

that the Brest fleet should be kept in port, and every time Ganteaume

showed a foot the British admiral flew at him and drove him back. Once only

during the continuation of the crisis was the rigour of this attitude

relaxed, and that was to deal with what for the moment was the higher

object. It was to meet Villeneuve on his return from the West Indies, but

even then so nicely was the relaxation calculated, that Ganteaume was given

no time to take advantage of it.

The analogy between the conditions of the blockade which St. Vincent

inaugurated and those of the Seven Years' War becomes all the more

significant when we note that while Cornwallis and Gardner in home waters

were pressing close blockade to its utmost limit of rigour, Nelson in the

Mediterranean was not using it at all. Yet with him also the chief concern

was to prevent an invasion. His main function, as he and his Government saw

it, was to prevent a descent from Southern France upon Neapolitan or

Levantine territory. Why, then, did he not employ close blockade? It is

usually assumed that it was because of his overpowering desire to bring the

Toulon squadron to action. Occasional expressions in his letters give

colour to such a view, but his dispositions show clearly that his desire to

bring the fleet to action was kept in scientific subordination to the

defensive duty with which he was charged. Close blockade was the most

effectual means of securing this end, but in his case one of the

conditions, which we have found always accompanying successful close

blockade, was absent. He had no such preponderance of force as would enable

him to nourish it up to the point of perfect continuity. In the

circumstances the close form was too weak or exhausting for him to use with

the force at his disposal.

If this case be not considered conclusive as to Nelson's views, we have a

perfectly clear endorsement from his pen in 1801. It is a particularly

strong testimony, for he was at the time actually charged with defence

against the invasion of England. With several cruiser squadrons he had to

prevent the enemy's force issuing from a number of ports extending from

Flushing to Dieppe, and he was directing the operations from the Downs. On

the approach of winter he was impressed with the inexpediency of attempting

to continue a close blockade, and wrote to the Admiralty as follows: "I am

of opinion, and submit to their Lordships' better judgment, that care

should be taken to keep our squadrons compact and in good order ... under

Dungeness to be their principal station.... In fine weather our squadrons

to go out and show themselves, but never to risk either being crippled or

drawn into the North Sea; thus we shall always be sure of an effective

force, ready to act as occasion calls for it."[18]

[18] To Evan Nepean, 4 September 1801. Nicolas, _Nelson Despatches_, iv,

484.

The case of course is not entirely in point, for it concerns the question

of direct resistance to invasion and not to securing general command. Its

value is that it gives Nelson's views on the broad question of balancing

the risks--that is, the risk of relaxing close watch against the risk of

destroying the efficiency of the ships by maintaining it too rigorously.

With Nelson holding this view, it is not surprising to find that as late as

1804 naval opinion was not quite settled on the relative advantages of

close and open blockade even in the case of threatened invasion. Just a

year before Trafalgar was fought, Cornwallis pressed the Admiralty for more

strength to enable him to keep his blockade efficient. Lord Melville, who

at this time had Barham at his elbow, replied recommending the "policy of

relaxing the strictness of blockade, formerly resorted to." He protested

the means available were insufficient for "sustaining the necessary extent

of naval force, if your ships are to be torn to pieces by an eternal

conflict with the elements during the tempestuous months of winter."[19]

Melville was craving for a decisive action to end the insupportable strain.

"Allow me to remind you," he added, "that the occasions when we have been

able to bring our enemy to battle and our fleets to victory have generally

been when we were at a distance from the blockading station." In the end,

as we know, Cornwallis had his way, and the verdict of history has been to

approve the decision for its moral effect alone. Such conflicts must always

arise. "War," as Wolfe said, "is an option of difficulties," and the choice

must sway to the one side or the other as the circumstances tend to develop

the respective advantages of each form. We can never say that close

blockade is better than open, or the reverse. It must always be a matter of

judgment.

[19] For Barham's final views, 1805, see _Barham Papers_, iii, 90-93.

Are there, then, no principles which we can deduce from the old practice

for the strengthening of judgment? Certain broad lines of guidance at least

are to be traced. The main question will be, is it to our advantage, in

regard to all the strategical conditions, to keep the enemy in and get him

to sea for a decision? Presumably it will always be our policy to get a

decision as soon as possible. Still that desire may be overridden by the

necessity or special advantage of closely blockading one or more of his

squadrons. This situation may arise in two ways. Firstly, it may be

essential to provide for the local and temporary command of a certain

theatre of operations, as when an invasion threatens in that area, or when

we wish to pass a military expedition across it, or from special exigencies

in regard to the attack or defence of commerce. Secondly, even where we are

seeking a great decision, we may blockade one squadron closely in order to

induce a decision at the point most advantageous to ourselves; that is to

say, we may blockade one or more squadrons in order to induce the enemy to

attempt with one or more other squadrons to break that blockade. In this

way we may lead him either to expose himself to be struck in detail, or to

concentrate where we desire his concentration.

For any of these reasons we may decide that the best way of realising our

object is to use close blockade, but the matter does not end there. We have

still to consider whether close blockade is within the limit of the force

we have available, and whether it is the best method of developing the

fullest potentialities of that force. Close blockade being the more

exhausting form will require the greater strength; we cannot blockade

closely for any length of time without a force relatively superior; but if

by open blockade of a squadron we permit it to put to sea with contact

assured, we know that, even with a slightly inferior force, we can so deal

with it as to prevent its getting local control sufficient to break down

our mobile flotilla defence or to interfere seriously with our trade.

Finally, there is the question of risk. In the old days, before free

movement and wireless telegraphy, and before the flotilla had acquired

battle power, there was always to be faced the risk of not getting contact

in time to prevent mischief. This consideration was specially dominant

where the enemy had a squadron within or near the critical theatre of

operations. Therefore when the invasion threatened, our developed policy

was to blockade Brest closely at almost any sacrifice. There was always a

vague possibility that by evasion or chance of wind a squadron so close to

the line of invasion might get sufficient temporary command in the vital

area before it could be brought to action. It was a possibility that was

never realised in the Narrow Seas, and since mobility of fleets and means

of distant communication have so greatly increased in range and certainty,

and since the power of resistance in the flotilla has become so high, the

risk is probably much less than ever, and the field for open blockade is

consequently less restricted.

There is no need, however, to accept these principles as incontrovertible.

Even if we take the great blockade of 1803-5, which has most firmly

dominated thought on the subject ever since, it may be argued with some

plausibility that the situation could have been solved more quickly and

effectually by letting Ganteaume get out from Brest into the open, at least

as far as Admiral Togo was forced to permit the Russians to emerge from

Port Arthur, though his reasons for keeping them in were even stronger than

ours in 1805. But in any case, the whole trend of the evidence will admit

no doubt as to the inherent weakness of close blockade as a form of war. As

under modern developments the possibilities of open blockade have

increased, so the difficulties and dangers of close blockade have certainly

not decreased. It is also probable that certain advantages which in the

sailing era went far to compensate for its weakness have lost much of their

force. A sailing fleet cooped up in port not only rapidly lost its spirit,

but, being barred from sea-training, could not be kept in a condition of

efficiency, whereas the blockading fleet was quickly raised to the highest

temper by the stress of vigilance and danger that was its incessant

portion. So long as the strain did not pass the limit of human endurance,

it was all to the good. In the old days, with very moderate reliefs, the

limit was never reached, and the sacrifices that were made to those

exhausting vigils were rewarded twentyfold in exuberant confidence on the

day of battle. Can we expect the same compensation now? Will the balance of

strength and weakness remain as it used to be? In the face of the vast

change of conditions and the thinness of experience, it is to general

principles we must turn for the answer.

What, in fact, is the inherent weakness of close blockade? Strategical

theory will at once reply that it is an operation which involves "an arrest

of the offensive," a situation which is usually taken to exhibit every kind

of drawback. Close blockade is essentially an offensive operation, although

its object is usually negative; that is, it is a forward movement to

prevent the enemy carrying out some offensive operation either direct or by

way of counterstroke. So far the common tendency to confuse "Seeking out

the enemy's fleet" with "Making the enemy's coast your frontier" may be

condoned. But the two operations are widely different in that they have

different objectives. In "seeking out," our objective is the enemy's armed

force. In "making the enemy's coast our frontier," the objective is

inseparable from the ulterior object of the naval war. In this case the

objective is the common communications. By establishing a blockade we

operate offensively against those communications. We occupy them, and then

we can do no more. Our offensive is arrested; we cannot carry it on to the

destruction of the enemy's fleet. We have to wait in a defensive attitude,

holding the communications we have seized, till he chooses to attack in

order to break our hold; and during that period of arrest the advantage of

surprise--the all-important advantage in war--passes by a well recognised

rule to our enemy. We, in fact, are held upon the defensive, with none of

the material advantages of the defensive. The moral advantage of having

taken the initiative remains, but that is all. The advantage which we thus

gain will of course have the same kind of depressing effect upon the

blockaded fleet as it had of old, but scarcely in so high a degree. The

degradation of a steam fleet in port can scarcely be so rapid or

debilitating as it was when nine-tenths of seamanship lay in the smart

handling of sails. For the blockading fleet it is also true that the

effects of weather, which formerly were the main cause of wear and tear,

can scarcely be so severe. But, on the other hand, the physical strain to

officers and men, and the difficulty of supply, will be far greater, so

long at least as coal is the chief fuel. The wind no longer sets a measure

on the enemy's movements. Vigilance close and unremitting beyond all our

predecessors knew is the portion of the blockaders to prevent surprise.

Furthermore, in the old days surprise meant at worst the enemy's escape;

now it may mean our own destruction by mine or torpedo. It is unnecessary

to labour the point. It is too obvious that a close blockade of the old

type exhibits under present conditions the defects of "arrested offence" in

so high a degree as practically to prohibit its use.

What, then, can be done? Must we rest content in all situations with Howe's

system, which riper experience condemned for cases of extreme necessity?

Cannot the old close blockade be given a modern form? Assuredly it can. In

old days the shoreward limit of the blockading fleet was just beyond the

range of the coast batteries, and this position it held continuously by

means of an inshore squadron. In these days of mobile defence that limit is

by analogy the night range of destroyers and the day range of submarines,

that is, half the distance they can traverse between dark and dawn or dawn

and dark respectively, unless within that limit a torpedo-proof base can be

established. A blockade of this nature will correspond in principle to a

close blockade of the old type; nor in practice, as was proved in the

Japanese blockade of Port Arthur, will its incidents be materially

different. The distance at which the battle-squadron must keep will seem at

first sight to deny it certainty of immediate contact--the essence of close

blockade. But in truth other new factors already noticed will reduce that

distance relatively. Quicker and more certain means of communication

between the admiral and his scouts, the absolute freedom of movement and

the power of delaying the enemy's actual exit by mining, may go far to

bring things back to their old relations. At Port Arthur they did so

entirely. If then, as in that case, our paramount object is to keep the

enemy in, there seems still no reason why we should not make our

dispositions on the principle of close blockade. Distances will be greater,

but that is all.

Nor must it be forgotten that for a squadron to take station off a port in

the old manner is not the only means of close blockade. It may still effect

its purpose, at least temporarily, by supporting mining vessels or block

ships--"sinkers," as they used to be called. The latter expedient, it is

true, had little success in the latest experiments, but even in the

Russo-Japanese War its possibilities were by no means exhausted. We have

therefore to conclude that where the strategical conditions call obviously

for close blockade, our plan of operations will be modified in that

direction with the means still at our disposal.

If, however, our object is not so sharply defined, if in spite of our

desire to deny the enemy the sea we are ready to take risks in order to

bring about a decision, the case is not so clear. It will be observed that

the looseness which the new conditions force upon close blockade-increasing

as they are in intensity year by year-must tend more and more to

approximate it in practice to open blockade. The question will therefore

present itself whether it would not be more in accordance with the

fundamental elements of strength to adopt open blockade frankly for all

purposes. We should thus substitute a true defensive disposition for an

arrested offence, and, theoretically, that in itself is a great advantage.

The practical benefits, whatever the correlative drawbacks, are equally

clear, nor are they less great now than they appeared to Howe and

Kempenfelt. We avoid exhaustion of machinery, coal, and men, and this, at

least for the necessary flotilla screen, will be greater than anything that

had to be faced in former days. We have at least the opportunity of

occupying a position secure from surprise, and of keeping the fleet

continually up to its highest striking energy. Finally, assuming the

geographical conditions give reasonable promise of contact, a quick

decision, which modern war demands with ever greater insistence, is more

probable. In such a disposition of course contact can rarely be made

certain. The enemy, whom the hypothesis of blockade assumes to be anxious

to avoid action, will always have a chance of evasion, but this will always

be so, even with the closest blockade now possible. We may even go further

and claim for open blockade that in favourable conditions it may give the

better chance of contact. For by adopting the principle of open blockade we

shall have, in accordance with the theory of defence, the further

advantages of being able the better to conceal our dispositions, and

consequently to lay traps for our enemy, such as that which Nelson prepared

for Villeneuve in the Gulf of Lyons in 1805.

The objection to such a course which appears to have the most weight with

current opinion is the moral one, which is inseparable from all deliberate

choices of the defensive. If the watching fleet remains in a home fortified

base, it may be assumed that the usual moral degradation will set in. But

the method does not entail the inglorious security of such a base. A sound

position may well be found at a spot such as Admiral Togo occupied while

waiting for the Baltic fleet, and in that case there was no observable

degradation of any kind. Nor is there much evidence that this objection

weighed materially with the opponents of Howe's view. Their objection was

of a purely physical kind. Open blockade left the enemy too much freedom to

raid our trade routes. The watching system might be sufficient to keep an

unwilling battle-fleet in port or to bring a more adventurous one to

action, but it could not control raiding squadrons. This was certainly

Barham's objection. "If," he wrote to Pitt in 1794, "the French should have

any intention of sending their fleet to sea with this easterly wind, and

Lord Howe continues at Torbay, our Mediterranean and Jamaica convoys are in

a very critical situation. Both fleets must by this time be drawing near

the Channel, and cannot enter it while the easterly wind holds." This

danger must always be with us, especially in narrow waters such as the

North Sea. In more open theatres the difficulty is not so obtrusive, for

with sufficient sea room trade may take naturally or by direction a course

which our watching dispositions will cover. Thus with Nelson in the case of

Toulon, his normal positions on the Sardinian coast covered effectually the

flow of our trade to the Levant and the Two Sicilies, which was all there

was at the time.

The truth is, that in endeavouring to decide between open and close

blockade we find ourselves confronted with those special difficulties which

so sharply distinguish naval warfare from warfare on land. We cannot choose

on purely naval considerations. In naval warfare, however great may be our

desire to concentrate our effort on the enemy's main forces, the ulterior

object will always obtrude itself. We must from the first do our best to

control sea communications, and since those communications are usually

common, we cannot refrain from occupying those of the enemy without at the

same time neglecting and exposing our own. Thus in the case of Brest a

close blockade was always desirable, and especially at convoy seasons,

because the great trade routes which passed within striking distance of the

port were all common, whereas in the region of Toulon the main lines were

not common except along the coasts of Africa and Southern Italy, and these

Nelson's open blockade amply secured.

The general conclusion, then, is that however high may be the purely naval

and strategical reasons for adopting open blockade as the best means of

securing a decision against the enemy's fleet, yet the inevitable intrusion

of the ulterior object in the form of trade protection or the security of

military expeditions will seldom leave us entirely free to use the open

method. We must be prepared, in fact, to find ourselves at least at times

faced with the necessity of using a form of blockade as nearly modelled on

the old close blockade as changed conditions will permit.

* * * * *

CHAPTER THREE

METHODS OF DISPUTING COMMAND

* * * * *

I. DEFENSIVE FLEET OPERATIONS--"A FLEET IN BEING"

In dealing with the theory of sea command, attention was called to the

error of assuming that if we are unable to win the command we therefore

lose it. It was pointed out that this proposition, which is too often

implied in strategical discussion, denies in effect that there can be such

a thing as strategical defensive at sea, and ignores the fact that the

normal condition in war is for the command to be in dispute. Theory and

history are at one on the point. Together they affirm that a Power too weak

to win command by offensive operations may yet succeed in holding the

command in dispute by assuming a general defensive attitude.

That such an attitude in itself cannot lead to any positive result at sea

goes without saying, but nevertheless even over prolonged periods it can

prevent an enemy securing positive results, and so give time for the other

belligerent to dominate the situation by securing his ends ashore.

It is seldom that we have been forced even for a time to adopt such an

attitude, but our enemies have done so frequently to our serious annoyance

and loss. In the Seven Years' War, for instance, the French by avoiding

offensive operations likely to lead to a decision, and confining themselves

to active defence, were able for five campaigns to prevent our reducing

Canada, which was the object of the war. Had they staked the issue on a

great fleet action in the first campaign, and had the result been against

them, we could certainly have achieved our object in half the time. In the

end, of course, they failed to prevent the conquest, but during all the

time the catastrophe was postponed France had abundant opportunity of

gaining offensively elsewhere territory which, as she at all events

believed, would have compelled us to give up our conquest at the peace.

Again, in our last great naval war Napoleon by avoiding general actions was

able to keep the command in dispute till by alliances and otherwise he had

gathered force which he deemed sufficient to warrant a return to the

offensive. Eventually that force proved unequal to the task, yet when it

failed and the command passed to his enemy, he had had time to consolidate

his power so far that the loss of his fleet seemed scarcely to affect it,

and for nine years more he was able to continue the struggle.

Such examples--and there are many of them--serve to show how serious a

matter is naval defence in the hands of a great military Power with other

means of offence. They tell us how difficult it is to deal with, and how

serious therefore for even the strongest naval Power is the need to give it

careful study.

And not for this reason only, but also because the strongest naval Power,

if faced with a coalition, may find it impossible to exert a drastic

offensive anywhere without temporarily reducing its force in certain areas

to a point relatively so low as to permit of nothing higher than the

defensive. The leading case of such a state of affairs, which we must

further consider presently, was our own position in the War of American

Independence, when, as we have seen, in order to secure an adequate

concentration for offence in the West Indies we were forced to reduce our

home fleet to defensive level.

What, then, do we mean by naval defence? To arrive at a right answer we

must first clear our mind of all confusing shadows cast by the accidents of

land defence. Both on land and at sea defence means of course taking

certain measures to defer a decision until military or political

developments so far redress the balance of strength that we are able to

pass to the offensive. In the operations of armies the most usual means

employed are the holding of positions and forcing our superior enemy to

exhaust his strength in attacking them. Consequently the idea of military

defence is dominated by the conception of entrenched positions and

fortresses.

In naval warfare this is not so. At sea the main conception is avoiding

decisive action by strategical or tactical activity, so as to keep our

fleet in being till the situation develops in our favour. In the golden age

of our navy the keynote of naval defence was mobility, not rest. The idea

was to dispute the control by harassing operations, to exercise control at

any place or at any moment as we saw a chance, and to prevent the enemy

exercising control in spite of his superiority by continually occupying his

attention. The idea of mere resistance was hardly present at all.

Everything was counterattack, whether upon the enemy's force or his

maritime communications. On land, of course, such methods of defence are

also well known, but they belong much more to guerilla warfare than to

regular operations. In regular warfare with standing armies, however

brilliantly harassing operations and counter-attack are used, the

fundamental conception is the defended or defensible position.

Similarly at sea, although the essence of defence is mobility and an

untiring aggressive spirit rather than rest and resistance, yet there also

defended and defensible positions are not excluded. But they are only used

in the last resort. A fleet may retire temporarily into waters difficult of

access, where it can only be attacked at great risk, or into a fortified

base, where it is practically removed from the board and cannot be attacked

at all by a fleet alone. But the occasions on which such expedients can be

used at sea are far rarer than on land. Indeed except for the most

temporary purposes they can scarcely be regarded as admissible at sea,

however great their value on land. The reason is simple. A fleet

withdrawing to such a position leaves open to the enemy the ulterior

object, which is the control of sea communications, whereas on land an army

in a good position may even for a prolonged period cover the ulterior

object, which is usually territory. An army in position, moreover, is

always doing something to exhaust its opponent and redress the unfavourable

balance, but a fleet in inactivity is too often permitting the enemy to

carry on operations which tend to exhaust the resources of its own country.

For a maritime Power, then, a naval defensive means nothing but keeping the

fleet actively in being-not merely in existence, but in active and vigorous

life. No phrase can better express the full significance of the idea than

"A fleet in being," if it be rightly understood. Unfortunately it has come

to be restricted, by a misunderstanding of the circumstances in which it

was first invented, to one special class of defence. We speak of it as

though it were essentially a method of defence against invasion, and so

miss its fuller meaning. If, however, it be extended to express defence

against any kind of maritime attack, whether against territory or sea

communications, its broad truth will become apparent, and it will give us

the true conception of the idea as held in the British service.

The occasion on which it was first used was one that well exhibits the

special possibilities of a naval defensive. It was in the year 1690, when,

in alliance with the Dutch, we were at war with France, and though really

superior, had been caught in a situation which placed us temporarily at a

great disadvantage in home waters. The French by a surprising rapidity of

mobilisation and concentration had stolen a march on us before either our

mobilisation or our concentration was complete. King William, with the best

of the army, was in Ireland dealing with a French invasion in support of

James, and a squadron of seven sail under Sir Cloudesley Shovel had been

detached into the Irish Sea to guard his communications. Another squadron,

consisting of sixteen of the line, British and Dutch, had been sent to

Gibraltar under Admiral Killigrew to take down the trade and to keep an eye

on Chateaurenault, who with a slightly inferior squadron was at Toulon. It

was assumed he would probably make a push for Brest, where the French main

fleet was mobilising under the Comte de Tourville, and Killigrew had orders

to follow him if he got through the Straits. Chateaurenault did get

through; Killigrew failed to bring him to action, and instead of following

him immediately, he went into Cadiz to complete his arrangements for

forwarding his outward-bound convoy and escorting the one he was to bring

home. What of course he should have done, according to the practice of more

experienced times, was to have left this work to a cruiser detachment, and

failing contact with Chateaurenault, should have closed at once to the

strategical centre with his battle-squadron.

Meanwhile the home fleet, which Lord Torrington was to command, was still

unformed. It lay in three divisions, at the Downs, Portsmouth, and

Plymouth, while a considerable part of the promised Dutch contingent had

not made its appearance. It was a splendid chance for the French to seize

the command of the Channel before the concentration could take place and to

crush the British in detail. Accordingly, on June 13th, as soon as

Chateaurenault had arrived, Tourville put to sea with some seventy of the

line. The day before, however, Torrington, having hoisted his flag in the

Downs, had massed his two main divisions at Portsmouth, and by the time

Tourville appeared off the Isle of Wight he had with later arrivals, both

Dutch and British, about fifty-six of the line in St. Helen's Road. Not

knowing that the Toulon contingent had joined, he put to sea intending to

fight, but on discovering the great superiority of the French, he decided

in concert with his council of war to act on the defensive, and before

offering battle to endeavour to secure a concentration with Killigrew and

Shovel and the Plymouth division by getting to the westward. If he found

this course impossible without fighting an action, his plan was to retire

before Tourville "even to the Gunfleet," where amidst the shoals of the

Thames estuary he felt he would have a good chance of repelling an attack

with success. There, too, he counted on being reinforced not only by the

ships still at Chatham, but also possibly by ships from the westward which

might steal along the coast and join him "over the flats" by channels

unknown to the French. To fight as he was he considered to be only playing

the enemy's game. "If we are beaten," he said in communicating his plan to

the Government, "they being absolute masters of the sea will be at great

liberty of doing many things which they dare not do whilst we observe them

and are in a possibility of joining Admiral Killigrew and our ships to the

westward."

It was a plan conceived on the best principles of defence--waiting till the

acquisition of fresh force justified a return to the offensive. It is

further interesting as a pure case of naval defence, with no ulterior

object other than control of home waters. In the minds of the Government

there was no apprehension of any definite attempt to invade across the

Channel, but the invasion of Ireland was in full progress, and all

nourishment of it must be stopped and our own communications kept free.

There was, moreover, serious anxiety lest the French should extend their

operations to Scotland, and there was Killigrew's homeward-bound convoy

approaching. The situation was one that obviously could not be solved

effectually except by winning a general command of the sea, but in

Torrington's judgment it could be rendered innocuous by holding the command

in dispute. His design, therefore, was to act upon the defensive and

prevent the enemy achieving any positive result until he was in a position

to fight them with a fair chance of victory. A temporary defensive he

considered was the only way to win the command, while to hazard a decision

in inferior strength was the best way to lose it.

Nothing could be in closer harmony with the principles of good strategy as

we understand them now. It was undoubtedly in advance of anything that had

been done up to that time, and it was little wonder if the Government, as

is usually said, failed to appreciate the design. Their rejection of it has

come in for very severe criticism. But it would seem that they

misunderstood rather than failed to appreciate. The Earl of Nottingham, who

was at the head of the Government, believed, as his reply to the admiral

clearly shows, that Torrington meant to retire to the Gunfleet at once;

whereas it is equally clear to us that the Gunfleet was to be his extreme

point, and that he did not mean to retire so far unless the French forced

him. The Minister failed, as others have done since, to grasp what the

admiral meant by "A fleet in being." He thought that in Torrington's view a

fleet safe in port and not in contact with the enemy was "in being,"

whereas Torrington had no such idea. As Nottingham conceived the admiral's

intention he saw that although it might preserve the fleet, it would expose

everything else to destruction; that is, he was oppressed with the special

characteristic of naval warfare which always permits action against the

ulterior object when the enemy denies you any chance of acting against his

armed force.

Under this misapprehension, which indeed was not justified by the words of

Torrington's despatch, he procured from the Queen an order in these terms:

"We apprehend," it ran, "the consequences of your retiring to the Gunfleet

to be so fatal, that we choose rather you should upon any advantage of the

wind give battle to the enemy than retreat farther than is necessary to get

an advantage upon the enemy." It was, however, left to his discretion to

proceed to the westward to complete his concentration that way, provided,

it said, "you by no means ever lose sight of the French fleet whereby they

may have opportunity of making attempts upon the shore or in the rivers of

Medway or Thames, or get away without fighting."

This order has been very hardly dealt with by modern critics, although it

clearly contemplates true preventive observation, and even, as the last

words suggest, the idea contained in Nelson's well-known saying, "that by

the time the enemy had beat our fleet soundly they would do us no more harm

this year." It is true that Nelson could rely on the proved superiority of

the British at that time unit for unit, but it is also true that Nottingham

and his colleagues in the Government had information which led them greatly

to underestimate Tourville's strength. This was evident on the face of

Nottingham's despatch which covered the order, so evident indeed that

Torrington might well perhaps have suspended the execution of an order so

obviously based on incorrect information. But knowing probably what

intrigues were going on against him at Court, he chose to regard it as a

peremptory command to engage whenever he found himself to windward.

Much as a more scientific view of naval strategy may admire Torrington's

conception, there seems no reason for losing temper over the Government's

plan. It was certainly one way of solving the problem, and seeing how large

were our reserves, a defeat need not have meant disaster. Still, it was

doubtless dictated by an inability to grasp, the strategical strength of

Torrington's novel plan, a plan which was not only safer, but was

calculated to achieve greater positive results in the end. The real fallacy

of the Government's plan was that although it had a specious appearance of

a bold offensive, it could have achieved nothing but a negative result. The

most a battle could have given in the circumstances could only have left

the command in dispute, and the worst would have given the enemy a positive

result, which must have gravely compromised William's campaign in Ireland.

On these lines Torrington replied to the Government. Dealing with their

anxiety for the ships to the westward and the Mediterranean convoy, whose

danger was their expressed reason for forbidding him the Gunfleet, he

pointed out that they could not run much hazard if they took care of

themselves. For, as he repeated, "while we observe the French, they cannot

make any attempt on ships or shore without running great hazard, and if we

are beaten, all is exposed to their mercy." Thus without specially noticing

the Minister's misinterpretation of his despatch, he intimated that his

intention was observation, and not simple retreat.

By the time Torrington sent this reply he had been pressed back as far as

Beachy Head; it was no longer possible to get to the westward; and the

following day, finding himself to windward, he attacked. But still

confirmed in his idea of defence, and carrying it on to his tactics, he

refused to give the French the chance of a real decision, and disengaged as

soon as a drop in the wind permitted. So far he felt justified in

interpreting orders which he knew were founded on false information. He was

sure, as he said in justification of the way he fought the action, "that

the Queen could not have been prevailed with to sign an order for it, had

not both our weakness and the strength of the enemy been disguised to her."

So severely was his fleet crippled that he believed his plan could no

longer act. "What the consequences of this unfortunate battle may be," he

wrote in his Journal, "God Almighty only knows, but this I dare be positive

in, had I been left to my liberty I had prevented any attempt upon the

land, and secured the western ships, Killigrew, and the merchantmen."

Actually in all this he was successful. Slowly retiring eastward he drew

the French after him as far as Dover before he ran to the Nore; and

Tourville was unable to get back to the westward, till all the endangered

ships were safe in Plymouth. In spite of Torrington's being forced to fight

an action at the wrong time and place, his design had so far succeeded. Not

only had he prevented the French doing anything that could affect the issue

of the war, but he had completely foiled Tourville's plan of destroying the

British fleet in detail. That he had done, but retribution by passing to

the offensive was no longer in his power.

That Tourville or his Government was impressed with the efficacy of the

method was demonstrated the following year, when he in his turn found

himself in an inferiority that denied him hope of a successful battle

decision. During the summer he kept his fleet hovering off the mouth of the

Channel without giving the British admiral a chance of contact. His method,

however, differed from that of Torrington, and he only achieved his

negative object by keeping out of sight of his enemy altogether. In his

opinion, if a fleet remained at sea in close observation of an active enemy

an action could not be avoided. "If (the admiral)," he wrote in his

memorandum on the subject, "be ordered to keep the sea to try to amuse the

enemy and to let them know we are in a position to attack in case they

attempt a descent, I think it my duty to say that in that case we must make

up our mind to have to fight them in the end; for if they have really

sought an action, they will have been able to fight, seeing that it is

impossible to pirouette so long near a fleet without coming to grips."[20]

This is as much as to say that a sure point of temporary retreat is

necessary to "a fleet in being," and this was an essential part of

Torrington's idea.

[20] Delarbre, _Tourville et la marine de son temps_, p. 339. (Author's

note.)

In Torrington's and Tourville's time, when ships were unhandy and fleet

tactics in their infancy, the difficulty of avoiding action, when a

determined enemy had once got contact, were undoubtedly great, unless a

port of retreat was kept open. But as the art of naval warfare developed,

the possibilities of "a fleet in being" were regarded as much wider, at

least in the British service. It was nearly a hundred years before we were

again forced to use the same device on a large scale, and then it was

believed that superior speed and tactical precision were factors that could

be counted on to an almost unlimited extent. In the darkest days of the War

of American Independence we have a memorandum of the subject by Kempenfelt,

which not only gives the developed idea of "a fleet in being" and the high

aggressive spirit that is its essence, but also explains its value, not

merely as a defensive expedient, but as a means of permitting a drastic

offensive even when you are as a whole inferior. "When you know the enemy's

designs," he says, "in order to do something effectual you must endeavour

to be superior to them in some part where they have designs to execute, and

where, if they succeed, they would most injure you. If your fleet is

divided as to be in all places inferior to the enemy, they will have a fair

chance of succeeding everywhere in their attempts. If a squadron cannot be

formed sufficient to face the enemy's at home, it would be more

advantageous to let your inferiority be still greater in order by it to

gain the superiority elsewhere."

"When inferior to the enemy, and you have only a squadron of observation to

watch and attend upon their motions, such a squadron should be composed of

two-decked ships only [that is, ships of the highest mobility] as to assure

it purpose. It must have the advantage of the enemy in sailing, else under

certain circumstances it will be liable to be forced to battle or to give

up some of its heavy sailers. It is highly necessary to have such a flying

squadron to hang on the enemy's large fleet, as it will prevent their

dividing into separate squadrons for intercepting your trade or spreading

their ships for a more extensive view. You will be at hand to profit from

any accidental separation or dispersion of their fleet from hard gales,

fogs, or other causes. You may intercept supplies, intelligence, &c, sent

to them. In fine, such a squadron will be a check and restraint upon their

motions, and prevent a good deal of the mischief they might otherwise do."

Three years before, when first called to be Chief of the Staff in the

Channel, he had emphasised the same points. "Much," he wrote in July 1779,

"I may say all, depends upon this fleet. 'Tis an inferior against a

superior fleet. Therefore the greatest skill and address is requisite to

counteract the designs of the enemy, to watch and seize the favourable

opportunity for action, and to catch the advantage of making the effort at

some or other feeble part of the enemy's line; or if such opportunities

don't offer, to hover near the enemy, keep him at bay, and prevent his

attempting anything but at risk and hazard; to command their attention, and

oblige them to think of nothing but being on their guard against your

attack."[21]

[21] _Barham Papers_, i, 292.

It was on these lines the war was conducted. The West Indian area, in which

lay the enemy's principal object, was treated as the offensive theatre and

the home waters as the defensive. Inferior as was the Channel fleet to the

home fleet of the allies, its defensive operations proved adequate to

prevent their achieving any success. Nor was this all, for Kempenfelt was

able to demonstrate the positive side of his theory in the most brilliant

and convincing manner. In dealing with concentration we have seen how, in

command of such a flying squadron as he postulated, he was able off Ushant

to seize a favourable opportunity for action, which resulted in his

capturing a convoy of military stores essential to the French operations in

the West Indies under the nose of De Guichen with an escort of nearly twice

his force.

Nelson certainly shared Kempenfelt's views as to the possibilities of an

inferior fleet kept actively in being. "As to our fleet," he wrote from the

Mediterranean in 1796, "under such a commander-in-chief as Sir John Jervis

nobody has any fear ... We are now twenty-two sail of the line. The

combined fleet will not be above thirty-five.... I will venture my life Sir

John Jervis defeats them. I do not mean by a regular battle, but by the

skill of our admiral and the activity and spirit of our officers and

seamen. This country is the most favourable possible for that skill with an

inferior fleet; for the winds are so variable, that some one time in

twenty-four hours you must be able to attack a part of a large fleet, and

the other will be becalmed or have a contrary wind. Therefore I hope the

Government will not be alarmed for our safety."

Such a conception of the defensive may indeed be said to have become

current in the British service. It was part of the reasoning which in 1805,

after Villeneuve's escape from the Mediterranean, decided Sir John Orde to

fall back on Ushant instead of entering the Straits. "I dare believe," he

wrote, "Lord Nelson will be found in condition with his twelve of the line

and numerous frigates to act on the defensive without loss and even to hang

on to the skirts of the enemy's fleet should it attempt any material

service, especially when encumbered with troops."

In all this consideration of the potentialities of "a fleet in being"

operating defensively it must never be forgotten that we are dealing with

its possibilities in relation to a general command of the sea--to its

general power of holding such command in dispute, as Torrington used it.

Its power of preventing a particular operation, such as oversea invasion,

is another matter, which will always depend upon the local conditions. If

the "fleet in being" can be contained in such a way that it is impossible

for it to reach the invading line of passage, it will be no bar to

invasion. In 1690, so far as Torrington's fleet was concerned, the French,

had they been so minded, might have made a descent, say, at Portsmouth

while Torrington was at the Nore. But Torrington's fleet was not the only

factor. His retreat forced Tourville to leave behind him unfought the

squadrons of Shovel and Killigrew, and so far as commanding a line of

invasion passage was concerned Tourville was himself as well contained as

Torrington. The conditions of naval defence against invasion are in fact so

complex compared with those of general naval defence that they must be

treated later as a special branch of the subject.

The doctrine of the "Fleet in being" as formulated and practised by

Torrington and developed by Kempenfelt goes no further than this, that

where the enemy regards the general command of a sea area as necessary to

his offensive purposes, you may be able to prevent his gaining such command

by using your fleet defensively, refusing what Nelson called a regular

battle, and seizing every opportunity for a counterstroke. To use it as it

was used by the French in the case of Tourville's famous deterrent cruise,

where the whole object of the French was offensive and could not be

obtained except by offence, is quite another thing.

It is indeed difficult to understand the admiration with which his

_campagne au large_ has been treated in France. He kept the sea off the

mouth of the Channel for fifty days in the summer of 1691, and for forty of

those days our Channel fleet was making no systematic effort to seek him

out. He had been sent to sea in hope of intercepting our great "Smyrna

convoy," which was then the backbone of our oversea trade. Russell with the

British main fleet simply took positions to cover its approach until it was

safe, knowing presumably that Tourville must come to him if he wished to

accomplish his purpose. When the convoy was safe Russell proceeded off

Ushant, that is, between the enemy and his base. Tourville's communications

were thus cut, his line of retreat threatened, and he seized the first

opportunity to elude Russell and to return into port. Beyond taking a few

ships from one of the West India convoys, he accomplished nothing. The

central French offensive in Ireland was broken at the battle of the Boyne,

and the prestige of England at sea was restored. It is true our trade

suffered in the North Sea, but this was not directly due to the

concentration which Tourville's cruise forced upon us, but rather to the

failure of the Dutch--apparently by a misunderstanding-to provide for an

effective blockade of Dunkirk.

To British eyes it will seem that the heresy which was latent in

Tourville's instructions was a seed that choked all the finer aspirations

of the French navy. In 1691 the plan of his cruise may possibly be defended

as sufficiently aggressive, since, seeing how unstable was William's new

throne, a resounding blow at British trade, combined with an expected

victory in Ireland, might have been enough to upset it. But afterwards the

idea was stretched to occasions it would not fit. It seems to have bred a

belief that where the object of the war plainly depended on winning a real

command of the sea, that object could yet be attained by naval defensive

operations. Many times it is true a policy which had starved the navy of

France left no other course open to her seamen, and had they in their

inferiority attempted the offensive, the end must have been swifter if not

more certain. In criticising the maritime history of France we must be

careful to distinguish policy from strategy. It was not always the

defensive strategy that was bad, but the policy that condemned her admirals

to negative operations. Seeing that she was a continental Power with

continental aspirations, it was often a policy from which her military

exigencies permitted no escape. Nevertheless the policy was twice accursed:

it cursed her when she was weak, and cursed her when she was strong. The

prolonged use of the defensive bred a habit of mind which seems to have

rendered her incapable of striking hard when she had the strength. In no

other way at least can we account for the behaviour of so high-spirited a

nation when her chance of revenge came in the War of American Independence.

It is here in its moral reactions lies the danger of the defensive, a

danger so insidious in its working as to tempt us never to utter the word.

Yet with the voice of Torrington, Kempenfelt, and Nelson in our ears, it

would be folly to ignore it for ourselves, and still more to ignore the

exhausting strain its use by our enemy may impose upon us. It must be

studied, if for no other reasons than to learn how to break it down. Nor

will the study have danger, if only we keep well in view the spirit of

restless and vigilant counter-attack which Kempenfelt and Nelson regarded

as its essence. True, some of the conditions which in the days of sails

made for opportunity have passed away, but many still remain. Shifts of

wind and calms will no longer bring them, but weather thick or violent can

yet make seamanship, nimbleness, and cohesion tell as it always did; and

there is no reason to doubt that it is still possible for hard sea-training

to make "the activity and spirit of our officers and seamen" give the

results which Nelson so confidently expected.

II. MINOR COUNTER-ATTACKS

For the weaker of two belligerents minor-attack has always exercised a

certain fascination. Where a Power was so inferior in naval force that it

could scarcely count even on disputing command by fleet operations, there

remained a hope of reducing the relative inferiority by putting part of the

enemy's force out of action. Such hopes were rarely realised. In 1587 Drake

succeeded in stopping the Spanish invasion by such a counter-attack on the

Cadiz division of the Armada while it was still unmobilised. In 1667 the

Dutch achieved a similar success against our Chatham division when it was

demobilised and undefended, and thereby probably secured rather more

favourable terms of peace. But it cannot be said that the old wars present

any case where the ultimate question of command was seriously affected by a

minor counterattack.

The advent of the torpedo, however, has given the idea a new importance

that cannot be overlooked. The degree of that importance is at present

beyond calculation. There is at least no evidence that it would be very

high in normal conditions and between ordinarily efficient fleets. The

comparative success of the opening Japanese attack on the Port Arthur

squadron is the only case in point, and where only one case exists, it is

necessary to use extreme caution in estimating its significance. Before we

can deduce anything of permanent value we must consider very carefully both

its conditions and results.

To begin with, it was a new experience of a new class of weapon, and it by

no means follows that the success of a new expedient will be repeated with

anything like equal result. It will not be irrelevant again to recall the

case of fireships. At the outset of the sailing era in 1588, this device

prepared the way for a decisive success against a fleet in the open. In the

succeeding wars the new weapon found a prominent place in the organisation

of sea-going fleets, but its success was never repeated. Against ships in

ill-defended harbours it did occasionally produce good results, and during

the infancy of tactics its moral and even material effects in fleet actions

were frequently demonstrated. But as naval science developed and the

limitations of the weapon were more accurately measured, it was able to

achieve less and less, till in the eighteenth century it was regarded as

almost negligible. Even its moral effect was lost, and it ceased to be

considered as a battle unit.

Now, if we examine closely the Port Arthur case, we shall find it pointing

to the existence of certain inherent conditions not dissimilar from those

which discredited fireships as a decisive factor in war. In spite of the

apparently formidable nature of a surprise attack by torpedo the

indications from the one case in point are that these conditions make for

greater power in the defence than in the attack. The first condition

relates to the difficulty of locating the objective accurately. It is

obvious that for this kind of operation the most precise intelligence is

essential, and of all intelligence the most difficult to obtain in war is

the distribution of an enemy's fleet from day to day. The Japanese had

fairly certain information that the bulk of the Port Arthur squadron was

lying in the outer anchorage, but it had been constantly moving, and there

was a report that three battleships had just been detached from it. The

report was false, but the result was that of the five divisions of

destroyers which the Japanese had available, two were diverted against

Dalny, where no enemy was found. Such uncertainty must always exist, and in

no circumstances is it likely to be less than where, as in the Japanese

case, the attack is made before declaration, and while the ordinary

channels of intelligence are still open.

Further, it is to be noted that in spite of the fact that relations for

some weeks had been highly strained, and a surprise torpedo attack was

regarded as probable, the Russians had taken no precautions to confuse

their enemy. It is obvious that measures to prevent accurate locating can,

and should, be taken in such cases. We may go further. From confusing the

enemy by such means it is but a step to lead him to a wrong conclusion, and

to lay for him a trap which may swallow up the bulk of his destroyer force

in the first hours of the war. It is to be feared, however, that the risks

of such an eventuality are so great in minor counter-attacks of this

nature, that it will probably be very difficult to tempt an inferior enemy

to expose his flotilla in this way.

This view receives emphasis from the second point which the Port Arthur

case serves to demonstrate, and that is the great power of even the

flimsiest defence against such attacks; in other words, the chances of

success can scarcely ever be great enough to justify the risk. Everything

was in favour of the Japanese. Orders had been issued in the Russian

squadron for two or three nights previously to prepare for a torpedo

attack, but so low had discipline fallen, that the orders were obeyed in a

very perfunctory manner. Guns were not loaded, their crews were not at

quarters, nor were the nets got out. The only real precaution taken was

that two destroyers and no more had been sent out as guard patrol, but even

they were forbidden to fire on anything they met until they had reported to

the admiral or had themselves been fired on. Defence against a surprise

attack could scarcely have been more feeble, and yet so high was the

nervous tension in the attacking force, that it proved stronger than could

reasonably have been expected. The mere existence of the patrol and the

necessity of evading it threw the Japanese approach into a confusion from

which it was unable to recover entirely, and the attack lost its essential

momentum and cohesion. Again, defective as were the arrangements in the

squadron itself, and lax as were its training and discipline, no torpedo

hits were made, so far as we can judge, after the Russian guns and

searchlights got into play.

Such development of strength in the defence seems inherent in the

conditions of minor attack, and there appears to be no reason for expecting

better results for such attacks in normal cases. But in deducing principles

from the Port Arthur case, it must always be remembered that it was far

from normal. It was a blow before declaration, when the menace of strained

relations, though realised, had been almost entirely ignored by the

Russians. In such exceptional and almost incredible circumstances a minor

attack might always be counted on for a certain measure of success. To this

we have to add the fact that the Russian squadron was not ordinarily

efficient, but appears to have fallen into a lax condition such as could

scarcely recur in the case of any other naval Power.

Finally, we must ask what, with every condition abnormally in favour of the

attack, was the actual material result? Did it have any real influence on

the ultimate question of command? It is true that it so far swung the

balance in favour of the Japanese that they were able to exercise the local

control long enough to land their troops and isolate Port Arthur. But the

Japanese plan for securing ultimate command rested on their power of taking

Port Arthur by military operation and sustaining the siege from the sea.

Yet in spite of every condition of success the physical effect of the blow

was so small, that even without the help of an adequate dockyard the

squadron recovered from it and became potent again before the siege could

even be formed. The minor attacks which followed the first blow were all

failures, and whether delivered at the port or upon the squadron in the

open had no appreciable effect whatever.

At the same time it must be remembered that since that war the art of

torpedo warfare has developed very rapidly. Its range and offensive power

have increased in a higher ratio than the means of resisting it. Still

those means have advanced, and it is probable that a squadron in a naval

port or in a properly defended anchorage is not more easy to injure than it

ever was; while a squadron at sea, so long as it constantly shifts its

position, still remains very difficult to locate with sufficient precision

for successful minor attack.

The unproved value of submarines only deepens the mist which overhangs the

next naval war. From a strategical point of view we can say no more than

that we have to count with a new factor, which gives a new possibility to

minor counterattack. It is a possibility which on the whole tells in favour

of naval defence, a new card which, skilfully played in combination with

defensive fleet operations, may lend fresh importance to the "Fleet in

being." It may further be expected that whatever the effective

possibilities of minor operations may ultimately prove to be in regard to

securing command, the moral influence will be considerable, and at least at

the beginning of a future war will tend to deflect and hamper the major

operations and rob of their precision the lines which formerly led so

frankly to the issue by battle.

In the absence of a sufficient volume of experience it would be idle to go

further, particularly as torpedo attack, like fireship attack, depends for

success more than any other on the spirit and skill of officers and men.

With regard to the torpedo as the typical arm of mobile coastal defence, it

is a different matter. What has been said applies only to its power towards

securing command of the sea, and not to the exercise or to disputing the

exercise of command. This is a question which is concerned with defence

against invasion, and to that we must now turn.

* * * * *

CHAPTER FOUR

METHODS OF EXERCISING COMMAND

* * * * *

I. DEFENCE AGAINST INVASION