Chinese Whispers

by Andrew Wareham

  Brotherton could not ask why, was left to wonder if his new captain might be inclined to unnecessary severity when it came to a man taking the odd drink during the working day. He had a couple of gins to settle his mind.

  Admiral Seymour made immediate time for Magnus – if the newly appointed captain of a ship needed to see him on his first day, then he must have good reason. There was so much to do in the first hours of assuming command that a captain would not come ashore for amusement’s sake.

  “First Lieutenant, sir. Brotherton. He is a drinker, gin on his breath at half past eight, rum overlaying at nine.”

  “Ha! An enthusiast, it would seem, Eskdale! Jellicoe, who have we got to replace him? Where can he go?”

  The flag captain would have a list of deserving young men, ready to step up into a more senior position at no notice. He would also know which were the least desirable ships on the station and which had the worst orders currently.

  “The battleship Victorious has orders for South Africa and is short two lieutenants. Because she is new and so big, she has experienced men in her wardroom. Brotherton will, if I remember correctly, be about fourth senior of her lieutenants.”

  “Twelve inch gun battleship – good experience for the young man. Smart ship, too.”

  “All brass and bugles, sir. Smart uniforms and running to one’s duty. Do the young gentleman good, I do not doubt. I shall have his orders sent to him within the hour, Lord Eskdale. I will send a note to his new captain.”

  “Thank you, sir. It will do his career good, I do not doubt. Add to that, he is going to the war in South Africa – there is a Naval Brigade on shore there. He will be able to volunteer, I expect, and gain useful service experience, if he so desires.”

  The Boers were renowned as excellent shots, with the habit of picking off officers when possible. The casualty rate among men who wore a full officer’s uniform was very high.

  “Now, sir, a replacement… must be a man in port at the moment and with a degree of experience and of the correct seniority to take charge…”

  Magnus politely interrupted before any decision could be made.

  “With respect, sir, I would prefer to be given no replacement for Brotherton. Perhaps one or two midshipmen if possible. With four midshipmen, it becomes possible to promote one, even two, and shuffle all of the other officers around as is appropriate. The reports on the lieutenants are all good, and I shall take Captain Tomkin’s word for their efficiency. That will also allow me to shift young Parnell to a busier position, ideally as junior to the Gunnery Officer. He might be a navigator by choice, of course, but that will also be possible.”

  It would be easier, Jellicoe admitted. If it did not work out, then a man could be sent across when next they docked in Hong Kong. It would not seem untoward – postings could not always be made without notice; men were not always in port when required.

  Admiral Seymour concurred – it would suit his convenience as well.

  “Young Hartley, Jellicoe. You remember the name?”

  “I do, sir. We thought he would benefit from a time aboard a cruiser. Tending to be lost on a battleship among so many youngsters. Do better in a smaller gunroom. I’ll speak to you later, Eskdale.”

  “Thank you, sir. Sublieutenant Knuyper has a very good report and is ready to take more responsibility. The possibility of a small ship, sir? He is one who could rise quickly, or so it seems. Northumberland’s third boy, as well.”

  “I shall bear him in mind, Eskdale. A destroyer?”

  A more than usually competent young gentleman could make lieutenant-in-command of a destroyer at a very early age. Say two years of experience and he could be master of his own tiny little bridge and with a potentially brilliant career ahead of him.

  The Admiral wrote his orders and Captain Jellicoe saw them despatched and Mr Brotherton was given one hour to report aboard Victorious – far too short a time to make any farewells or even discuss his departure.

  Captain Jellicoe took Magnus into his own office.

  “The boy Hartley, Eskdale. Came out of Dartmouth eighteen months ago, with a middle of the class report. Nothing outstanding, in any way; nothing wrong with him. An ordinary, average sort of lad. Sent to Barfleur and shows much as one might expect – not excelling, but well capable of a successful career. Trouble is, his parents want more.”

  Magnus scratched his head, tried to place the name.

  “Who are they, the Hartleys, sir?”

  “Nobodies, Eskdale. The father is a banker. The mother is beautiful.”

  “Oh! Who? Not the gentleman whose name must not be mentioned but whose aged mama might soon be about to depart for pastures greener?”

  “Exactly so, Eskdale. In older times he might well have been named FitzEdward.”

  “Annoying, sir! We cannot disobey a royal command. We do not wish to promote an average young man far beyond his merits. He is to command a battleship before he is thirty, I presume?”

  “That sort of thing, certainly, Eskdale. He might make a fortunate marriage, of course, and then be withdrawn from the service.”

  Magnus flushed – there was an implication in Jellicoe’s words that he as well might become a civilian at an early day, having found so very useful a bride himself.

  “Out of character for the gentleman to concern himself with his bastards, is it not, sir?”

  “She, it would seem, is very beautiful, and the banker is quite rich. Better that the boy is looked after. She has since made other good friends in the political world, sufficient to put a degree of pressure upon the gentleman. I have received a communication from some height that makes it clear that the boy is to be a protégé.”

  It sounded as if Fisher himself had been pressured to ensure that the youth was favoured.

  “Then, let it be so, sir. The boy has eighteen months in, you say. We cannot make him sublieutenant for another six months; the regulations do not permit it. If we promote both senior mids today, sir, then he will be senior in the gunroom and will be made next in the ordinary way of things, and without creating a grievance in my ship.”

  It could be done, and both of the existing subs could be made full lieutenants. Parnell would not be jumped over his senior’s head, which would again ensure there was no resentment that might create inefficiency. Knuyper would be better off making his next move as a full lieutenant.

  “Can you find another boy, sir? Junior to Hartley, to make up the numbers and to make his move seem less out of the ordinary, just one of several changes.”

  “Can do. Centurion has more than her number of mids. One of the boys, young Warren, was posted to a destroyer and found the hard lying too much for him. He has recovered his health now and could easily be sent to you.”

  Magnus was surprised that a young midshipman had been sent to a destroyer. Living conditions were hard in the small ships – they were cold and wet and uncomfortable, could strain the physical resources of a grown man.

  “I have given my opinion of that appointment to the Admiralty, Eskdale. They say it will not happen again. No more first appointments to a destroyer. Destroyers are a new class of ship, after all, and they have not finalised the regulations for them.”

  “Exactly, sir. We haven’t had them for more than ten years, after all.”

  “Quite. Both Hartley and Warren will be posted this afternoon, Eskdale. Will you take luncheon here with the Admiral?”

  “Better not, sir. A lot to do aboard. I can’t really afford another couple of hours here.”

  “Nor you can. Off you go.”

  Magnus trotted off obediently, suspecting that the invitation had been a test, to see whether he would prefer to enjoy the Admiral’s company to working in his new cabin.

  He ran aboard, saluting the Officer of the Deck and nodding to the boatswain’s party.

  “Is Mr Brotherton still here?”

  “No, sir. He received orders to go immediately to Victorious. His servant is still packing his bags, sir, but he lef
t the ship within five minutes.”

  “Quite right, too. Mr Knowles to my cabin, if you please.”

  Knowles was young, bearded, very earnest and obviously nervous. He did not know what was happening but suspected that as senior of the lieutenants, it would mean more work for him.

  “Sit down, Knowles. You will know that Brotherton has gone. I will not tolerate drinkers in my wardroom. A few glasses of an evening – no problem. Smelling of gin in the forenoon – not acceptable! That said, sir, you are senior and will take the duties of First Lieutenant. Show efficient and I have the Admiral’s agreement that you will keep the job, as a promotion. If you show incompetent, then a replacement will be posted in. I hope to avoid that. Do not hesitate to ask me if at any time you need assistance, of any sort. I want to keep all of the promotions internal, if possible. The two senior mids are to become subs. There will be two more youngsters coming this afternoon. We will discuss one of them later, in complete confidence. Now then, Parnell and, who is it, the other sub?”

  “Knuyper, sir.”

  Magnus thought it better not to be seen to know the duke’s son – there must be no appearance of favouritism.

  “Must remember that. Always the worst thing about a new ship – so many names to get straight.”

  Knowles nodded cautiously.

  “What do you wish to do with them? Where do they go?”

  “Knuyper can become doggie to the new Navigator, sir. He wishes to specialise. Parnell has shown no preferences yet.”

  “Guns for him, then. Keep him busy. Course at Whale Island inside two years if he shows good. I can probably work that for him.”

  “Yes, sir. He’s an able young man, even if a little too much into politics for his own good.”

  “So I was told, Knowles. Talk to him, on the quiet, will you? Explain that we will look after him, if he works, but I will see him broken if he misbehaves. Naval officers and politics don’t mix, not before they make admiral’s rank.”

  Knowles nodded. He would do his best.

  “Can all of the other officers take a step up, if needed?”

  “My junior can step into my shoes, sir, as Navigator. None of the others need actually change their jobs.”

  “Good. What about the Marines?”

  “Lieutenant Robbins, sir, and his sergeant are both very efficient. Twenty-four men, sir, normal figure, about one tenth of the complement.”

  “Good. We may well need a boarding party of seamen to back them up. Nominate the men… How many rifles have we?”

  Knowles did not know.

  “Find out. Talk to the Gunner and decide how many men should be told off for the party. Drill them and officers and mids as appropriate. Our orders will arrive tomorrow and may well make boarders necessary inside the next few weeks.”

  There was no specific reason why the Navigator should know how many rifles there were in the Armoury, but Knowles was conscious that he had disappointed his new captain. A good officer knew everything about his own department; the best officers knew everything about the ship. He made up his mind not to show failure again. He was First Lieutenant some three or four years before he had hoped was possible and there was a chance of turning the acting appointment into permanent and that could make him commander while young. There were examples on the China Station, such as David Beatty who was a commander at very early age because of his exploits on the Nile, and his own new captain, who had achieved fame in other fields. A successful performance on Obelisk and he could be captain of a first-class cruiser or old battleship before he was thirty-five, and admiral in another ten good years.

  “Yes, sir. The ship will be on line, sir. The boarding parties will be drilled and ready, sir.”

  “Very good. Word to the wise, Mr Knowles – not too hard, too soon! We both want nothing but the best for Obelisk, but she is in good order now. Not too much of a good thing.”

  That, Knowles thought, was easily said by a captain who did not have to perform the daily grind of keeping the ship and men in near-perfect condition.

  “Aye aye, sir,” he responded.

  Magnus had never been a first lieutenant, having followed the path of the privileged, and had only partial knowledge of the burden he had placed on Knowles. He consoled himself that the experience would be good for the young fellow.

  “Will you send the Engineer along to see me, Mr Knowles? Has he held his commission long, do you know?”

  “Twelve years, sir. All at sea and the past eight in Obelisk. Mr Lockhart is very experienced, sir. A most able engineer, I believe.”

  Unsaid was that he was less than suave in the wardroom, Magnus suspected. There was some animosity against engineers in most wardrooms, they being promoted from the ranks of the warrant officers, who came from the lower deck, and only permitted to mix with their social superiors in recent years.

  “We need a good engineer, I believe, Mr Knowles. One can forgive most sins in a man who will keep the screws turning.”

  Knowles took on board the unspoken message. He would ensure that Mr Lockhart felt more welcome in the company of the other officers.

  “Do sit down, Mr Lockhart. Now, sir, I am told that the Pearl class have problems with their engines, that they are in fact all due to be reboilered? The book speed is said to be nineteen knots, but I understand that few will see seventeen these days.”

  Lockhart was a short but broad man, balding and with a ragged scarlet burn scar on his cheek from mouth to right ear. He had evidently lost his balance in the engine room on a stormy day, fallen against a steam pipe, probably. It was not uncommon for engineers to carry a scar, but this was more disfiguring than many, might lead him to be shy and withdrawn in the presence of guests. Magnus made a mental note to have a word with Knowles on the topic – he might not have realised why Lockhart had difficulties in company, did not behave as an officer should in offering hospitality.

  “Aye, sir, that is so. Seventeen knots with a following wind, I would say, sir. Given good coal and a sea that is none too rough, I will promise twelve knots for ever and a day, sir. Very reliable at cruising speed, even better at an economical eight knots, sir. Five thousand miles at two hundred and fifty tons in the bunkers, sir, at cruising speed. Another five hundred miles at least at eight knots. If, however, sir, you require more than that… well, for an hour, just the one, ye understand, sir, I will promise seventeen knots, just a smidgen in excess. For four hours, I could give ye fifteen. In emergency, in action, sir, then we will do what we must, as goes wi’out saying. But, sir, if ye call for full speed for more than an hour, then the chances are high that she will blow out boiler tubes, or throw out the packing on a valve, or two. The design of the boilers and the engines is such that they do not respond well to sustained high pressures, sir. Something of an experiment, so they were – and they work well for cruising, but not for action. They would do well on a passenger liner, crossing the Atlantic in her seven days, regular as clockwork – but they are less than ideal for the Navy, sir.”

  There was a faint accent in the background of Lockhart’s voice – Scots, possibly, or Cumberland and the borders perhaps. He had evidently done his best to learn the King’s English of the officer class and had almost succeeded. It was a valiant attempt, Magnus decided, and he thought the better of the man for making the effort.

  “Is there anything to be done in the dockyard here, Mr Lockhart?”

  “Not meaningfully, sir. Never any harm in a thorough overhaul and make good, but she needs replacement rather than repair. The class was designed for colonial service, sir, for inshore work rather than chases at sea in company with the Fleet. She is good for what she’s good for, if you catch my meaning, sir.”

  “Well put, Mr Lockhart. Let me explain what I will demand of you, sir. We are to make north to Hanshan, to show the flag, and then to Wei-Hai-Wei, where we will anchor for a day or two and exercise the crew and the landing parties, all as if it were no more than a cruise. But, Mr Lockhart, I hope to be given informati
on off the cable at Wei-Hai-Wei that will send us off in pursuit of a gunrunner. She may be a slaver that has changed her trade for a few weeks – not a large ship and fast for a merchantman. That means I shall want steam at almost no notice, and we shall have to make an interception. I may call for more than you would normally wish to give me, Mr Lockhart. It is, as you will appreciate, important that the Boxers shall not receive a shipload of American repeating carbines and rifles.”

  “So be it, sir. At least it is the right time of the year, sir. The rainy season at Wei-Hai-Wei is in July and August and visibility is better now, and the seas commonly kinder.”

  “Good, I am glad that you know the station. How are we for coal?”

  “Fully bunkered, sir. Good Welsh steam coal on this occasion. A high calorific value, sir. We have had problems in the past, sir, with Australian coal. Not reliable for quality.”

  “I shall bear that in mind in the future, Mr Lockhart. What of your department? Are you happy with your people? Have you any who are due for promotion?”

  Lockhart showed a little uneasy, searching for the right words.

  “Well, sir, I have one man who is in my eye, you might say… He is not the right sort, that is the problem. He is no more than a stoker, a coal heaver, sir, but he is uncommon bright and could make more. I would wish, sir, if possible, to take him from the black gang and make him a junior oiler – the lowest of all in the engine room itself. I have a feeling that he would very soon show the capacity to learn and to work his way up to engine room artificer. From ERA, sir, then it is a course in Chatham and he can make Chief ERA, which is senior petty officer. From that, sir, he might take a commission, as I did. I started with some education – a school leaving certificate, which he does not possess - but he is literate, that I know.”

  Magnus did not approve of the concept of a gutter rat ever holding the Queen’s Commission. Equally, he was much in favour of able hands progressing as far as their abilities could carry them. The Navy could only benefit from bright young men giving all of which they were capable.