“Even Admiral Fisher would not go that far, Lord Eskdale. How would you protect the Channel Coast from the French, or the North Sea from the Germans?”
“Artillery at Dover, sir. Two dozen of twelve inch guns on the cliffs could close the Channel to an invader. Along the coast, batteries at every port and torpedo boats by the hundred. From the little I have read on the topic, sir, the policy after 1805 was to build Martello Towers along the coasts and back them with sloops and brigs and cutters to swoop on the invasion barges, was it not? I seem to recall that there was small fear of a French invasion after the policy was enacted.”
Jellicoe, who had read his history and had come across the same facts, shook his head gravely.
“Tut, Lord Eskdale! It is a known fact in the Navy that Bonaparte was thwarted solely and wholly by Trafalgar. All other knowledge is irrelevant. On another tack, the many invasions of Ireland were all brought to nothing by squadrons of two and three-deckers, the battleships of the day – could Ireland be defended as you suggest?”
There were fewer harbours on the west coast of Ireland, Magnus knew, and the Atlantic seas could easily destroy small ships such as torpedo boats.
“Point taken, sir. Little choice other than to station battleships at Cork and Londonderry and Belfast, unless the North Sea can be closed. It would be possible to shut Germany off from the Atlantic, but France has its Mediterranean ports. Yet blockade is no longer possible, sir, and the torpedo has ended the dominance of the big ships.”
“Off record and out of sight, I agree, Lord Eskdale. The torpedo is unstoppable, at the moment. As for submarines – they will very soon be a reality, that cannot be doubted, and they are even more a danger. Enough of this! Your Gunner must go to a battleship, or to a heavy cruiser – a promotion, in effect, to a place where he will feel far more at home. Within the day.”
Jellicoe made a note as they reached his desk.
“Ammunition?”
“I need shrapnel, sir, in far greater quantities than HE. Most of Racoon’s work must be against bandits and pirates and such, and that demands shells designed for the killing of men rather than the sinking of ships. I have only two machine guns on Racoon, sir. I would very happily exchange some of my three pounders for Maxims.”
“Again, because you expect to deal with men rather than fast small craft. Good idea, but the yard has very few of them and I am unwilling to spend money and resources on a ship so fundamentally old-fashioned, Lord Eskdale.”
Magnus could not disagree – Racoon had no business at sea in a modern navy.
“Three masts and full-rigged, sir! Unbelievable!”
“Precisely. She will not last too many more years, Lord Eskdale. She is earmarked to go home as soon as a replacement appears on station. She has power – six of six inchers cannot be sniffed at! But I would be far more inclined to use Racoon as a floating battery, tied up to one of the Bunds and protecting a treaty port, rather than as a cruising ship.”
“Agreed, sir. A steam picket boat would be useful in such case, sir. Capable of taking a landing party of a dozen or two, carrying a pair of machine guns and possibly towing a lighter with our twelve pounder and its limber. Well able to go to the aid of beleaguered missionaries or to relieve Butterfield and Swire or Jardine Matheson when their greed has raised the ire of the local Chinese.”
“Elegantly expressed, Lord Eskdale. Not perhaps sentiments that were better heard in public. The hongs and their masters are not the greatest of advertisements for the Empire, as you suggest. Is your Mr Blantyre not of the same ilk?”
Magnus shook his head ruefully.
“He is, of course, yet he is also kind-hearted in his way and possessed of some degree of tact and elegance of thought. I have never consorted with men of business, you know, sir, and was nervous of what I might discover. I have found a gentleman of some sensitivity – though not too much perhaps. He let it be clear that my becoming heir to the earldom was a very desirable thing, a clincher in fact in his decision to welcome my pretensions to his daughter and her millions. Yet he also could understand that I have some slight grief for my brother – though not, I must admit, a great deal. He said as well in passing that he found missionaries to be some of the less pleasant people he had ever come across, which is a difficulty as he is a committed Christian. He is glad, he tells me, that no muscular reverend attracted his girl’s attention.”
“A set of contradictions, in fact. While I think of it, we have a cricket match coming off the day after tomorrow – your mention of muscular reverends reminded me – do you bowl?”
“No, sir. Nor do I bat, and I cannot catch a ball for love or money. The game has passed me by, sir. I had heard you were a notable player but I am afraid that this is one of the several ways in which I fall short of your standard.”
“A pity – a noble game and has formed much of the British character, I believe.”
Magnus looked wise and nodded gravely – if Captain Jellicoe believed that cricket was a great character former, then who was he to disagree?
“Indeed, sir, I visited a music hall while I was in Portsmouth and heard one of the performers there exhorting the men present to grab their balls and have a jolly time – I presume it was cricket he was referring to.”
“Shall we consider ammunition in more detail, Lord Eskdale?”
Magnus gained the impression that Jellicoe was not amused. A pity!
Chapter Four
The Earl’s Other Son Series
Shanghai Dreams
“Do we expect further German interest in Hanshan, sir?”
Admiral Seymour was dismissive – the Germans had Tsingtao; Hanshan had been no more than a distraction, a blind to convince the British to look in the wrong direction.
“No. You are visiting solely because they are not to be found there now. Your warlord friend, Ping Wu, must be feeling a fraction isolated just at the moment. He will have discovered that he is no longer important to either country and cannot continue to play off one against the other, so now is the moment to turn up in his harbour and smile sweetly, before he has made contact with the French or the Americans, or, far less likely, Russia. He will not talk to the Japanese, not with the history between their two countries.”
“I see, sir. In fact, to make him feel wanted, and to tell him that we do not forget our friends, even if they are not immediately important to us.”
Jellicoe answered.
“Exactly so, Lord Eskdale. We thought we needed him, have discovered we do not, but will not break our implied word. We let it be known that we would protect him, in exchange for his support for us; our protection must remain real, though his support is less significant.”
Magnus was pleased that he need not feel guilty, could offer an honest hand to be shaken, in effect. He had been considering Hanshan and its needs, had a suggestion of his own.
“Would it be possible, sir, to offer him a pair of the old five inch breech loaders we have in the dockyard? Easy to emplace as pivot guns and giving him a real defence against any fleet of junks that might appear in a case of conflict with another warlord.”
Seymour and Jellicoe thought for a moment and then agreed.
“Good idea. Valueless against us if we decided to take him over, one broadside from any cruiser would finish them. Useful to him in his circumstances, they would make mincemeat of any wooden ship. Make the offer by all means and inform him that we will train up some of his men if he so desires. The five inchers are bigger than anything his army has at the moment. He might find a gunnery petty officer to come in handy, and we would have a permanent presence in his city.”
Magnus expressed his pleasure, would be delighted to carry out the admiral’s policy.
“On the topic of gunnery, my lord. Your man Plumb is suited to a battleship, I believe. He can come back to Centurion and be replaced by a young lieutenant who is not my cup of tea at all. He is, of all things, a Gunnery Specialist! As far as I am concerned, an officer is a sailor, except h
e’s one of these jumped up stokers they insist on foisting on the wardroom these days. I expect every sailor to be able to fire his guns if the need arises, and every gunner to be able to sail his ship! This Lieutenant Brownrigg, however, seems to think that gunnery is something special; went to some damned course at Mud Island – Jellicoe knows all about that, as you will know.”
Magnus said nothing. He knew that the training school that had been created in Portsmouth Harbour on its own artificial island was a favourite of Fisher’s, and that Percy Scott and Jellicoe had both played a major part in its creation and initial success. Charlie B’s people – the followers of Admiral Beresford – were deeply suspicious of the whole concept of distant gunnery, seeming to believe that what had been good enough for Nelson was good enough for them and everybody else. Any comment he made must offend either the admiral or his flag captain; they seemed to have worked out a truce between them and Magnus was not about to offer a bone of contention.
“Yes, sir. Brownrigg, you say, sir? Good name.”
“Good family, Eskdale. He should fit into your wardroom with no difficulty. Can’t imagine why he took up with this gunnery nonsense, considering his background. Still, if he must have a hobby, it’s better than chasing skirt or little boys…”
Admiral Seymour thought for a second and decided he had just comprehensively insulted Magnus and his family; he had the grace to redden.
“Well, enough said about that, my lord! Hanshan, as I said, and then you run up to Tsingtao. No more than a couple of days, or three perhaps, in either place before you return to Hong Kong. Get some gunnery in at sea as you go. Report to me on your opinion of what’s going on in Tsingtao – just how big they expect their base to become – room only for a cruiser squadron or for a battle fleet to swing at anchor. Jellicoe will discuss that with you before you sail. Dine with me tomorrow night. Show you to society in Hong Kong, let them know that you remain in good odour out here. The word will spread, and it will do you some good – and it will emphasize that I judge my officers on their current service record and don’t give a damn who does what to who in Mayfair!”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your sentiments, sir, and agree with them, though I would say that I do care about what my family does in the gutters of Soho. Difficult to forget and harder yet to forgive.”
Admiral Seymour was impressed, increasingly convinced that Magnus had reformed and was bitter that his brother should have betrayed his endeavours.
“That was well expressed, young man! Put it behind you though. You may have sowed your wild oats, as we know, but you did so as a gentleman, and you have become a man rather than a heedless boy, or so I think! The failings of others, no matter how close to you they may be, are not yours. Go forward, sir. There is small gain to looking back. That is the route to bitterness and the Navy has enough of that already. Captain Jellicoe will wish to personally introduce Lieutenant Brownrigg to you, he tells me.”
Magnus saluted and left the presence, relaxing as he trailed Jellicoe to his office.
“I had not realised just how much my brother had upset me, sir.”
“It was obvious to me, but I am that bit older than you, have seen more of the world, even if I am not as worldly as you, my lord. Admiral Seymour is right in that you must not become embittered – it would be easy to condemn your unfortunate brother as the source of every evil that ever beset you. Now, Lieutenant Brownrigg is our immediate concern. A good officer, and competent as a gunner – did well on his course. One of us in the Fishpond, of course. May be a little loud in his opinions on occasion and is still, as one might say, rather young in his ways. I understand that the hospitality in Hanshan is known to be rather generous, in certain aspects. I would imagine that it might do the young fellow a mite of good…”
Magnus smiled and said that he could not imagine what the flag captain was suggesting.
“I will, however, ensure that Lieutenant Brownrigg goes ashore, sir, and not merely to discuss his guns. He will be given the opportunity to fire his own cannon, one might say.”
“That, sir, I did not hear, or understand!”
Jellicoe sent his messenger to bring Brownrigg to his office.
“He is waiting our convenience, of course, Eskdale. He knows that he is to be posted out of Centurion but does not know what his fate might be – probably fears he may be bound for Barfleur, the other battleship on station, ten inch like Centurion, and a tiddly ship, as the jacks say – all brass and bugles.”
“Racoon is smart, sir, but is a working ship. I am sure we have a bugle aboard, and there might have been a Marine to play it, while they were still aboard, but it ain’t my idea of how to run a navy.”
“There is a place for everything, my lord, but everything must be in its place.”
Magnus thought about that before offering tentative agreement.
“Brownrigg – family name of one of the Midlands houses, ain’t it?”
“Leicestershire, I think – nephew to a Marquess, I believe. The boy has an income, I know. Lets him dress smartly but hasn’t gone to his head – he knows how to work.”
Magnus exchanged salutes as the young man entered the office, summed him up quickly. Shortish, open-faced but not especially handsome, brown haired and eyed, very well turned out – expensive cloth and well cut.
“Captain Lord Eskdale has command of Racoon, your new ship, Mr Brownrigg. He needs a gunnery officer, he tells me.”
Jellicoe nodded to Magnus.
“Six inch guns that have never been exercised at any range, Mr Brownrigg. Crews who know how to polish them and not much else. Three pounders are no better. The ship’s complement is too low to enable all guns to be exercised jointly. I will want you to work out a wartime manning for the guns and to greatly improve their accuracy. We have a light twelve pounder and a limber which must be exercised as well – I confidently expect to use that gun ashore in the near future – there is word of turbulence inland and we shall be on the Shanghai station.”
Captain Jellicoe added his own knowledge.
“The admiral is arranging for a small tug and lighter to be available against need – you may well find yourself taking charge of a landing party, Mr Brownrigg.”
“Oh, jolly good, sir! Spiffing fun!”
Magnus blinked; he might have expected that vocabulary of the youngest of his midshipmen, and he would have discouraged it there. The boy was much overdue to become a man.
“Possibly, Mr Brownrigg. I shall expect a serious-minded approach to your duties, sir – we do not have ‘fun’ aboard Racoon. It is even more the case that an officer in charge of a landing party of my men shall be very thorough in his approach to his duty.”
“Well, yes, sir, I did not mean to imply otherwise.”
“Nor you should, Mr Brownrigg. Racoon expects to sail in two days. There will be some changes in the magazines – HE to go ashore and shrapnel to replace the rounds landed. You will make sure that all is on top line, of course. We shall be making port in Hanshan and then calling at Tsingtao before we return to Hong Kong. That will give you opportunities to fire your guns at sea.”
“Live practice on the Yangtse is not to be recommended I would imagine, sir. I shall enter into my duties immediately.”
Brownrigg left and Magnus turned to Jellicoe, half flippantly.
“Pompous, priggish, immature and not of the brightest – all the makings of a thoroughly reliable naval officer, sir.”
“But not one to grace the highest ranks, perhaps, Lord Eskdale.”
“I would not know about that, sir. Nor, I suspect, am I likely to.”
“Not under my command and in a battleship, certainly, my lord, but there are other useful functions that can carry post captain’s rank. You should give some thought to using your uncommon abilities in the less visible parts of the service – which does not mean submarines, by the way. You have met Captain Hawkins, have you not? He wishes to discuss Tsingtao with you.”
Magnus made his way to
the offices at the rear that housed Captain Hawkins and his intelligencers, wondering whether he should show understanding of the very broad hint he had just received. Spying was no occupation for a gentleman, which was why so many gentlemen indulged in the pursuit. It would offer an interest, which sitting in Shanghai, tied up to the Bund, might not.
Did he want a battleship of his very own, one day? All of the battleship captains he had met, men at the pinnacle of the sea-going profession, had been dour, serious fellows, conscious of their own virtue and of the wonders of the Empire whose protection they were. Did he want to metamorphose into something like that? Was his caterpillar to turn into that sort of butterfly? He grinned and entered the offices.
A Leading Seaman Writer stood as he entered.
“Sir?”
“Commander Lord Eskdale, captain of Racoon, to speak to Captain Hawkins.”
In the admiral’s own offices it was something of a courtesy to refer to himself by rank rather than position, he thought.
The clerk put his head through a door at the rear, evidently received assent.
“Please to come through, my lord.”
Very polite and precise, Magnus thought. Typical of the intelligence community, perhaps.
“Come in, Lord Eskdale. Got a telegram here confirming that the body found in the Thames is certainly, in law, that of your brother. If he turns up in a few years he will have trouble resuming his identity, that is for sure. Be a Titchborne Claimant case all over again, if he comes to the surface.”
“You seem to have some doubts, Captain Hawkins.”
“Part of the trade, Lord Eskdale. When it is very convenient to have a body, and one is provided, then in the nature of things, I am dubious. In fact, there is no evidence at all to suggest that the corpse in question is not that of your brother. Naked? He was found on the shore, where the current had pushed him – the mudlarks would have searched his clothing for valuables and would have pawned anything that might ever be wearable. Signet rings, anything like that, would have been taken before the police heard of a body. Face unrecognisable? The Thames is the busiest waterway on Earth, so they say. Screw propellers to most ships and paddle-wheel tugs by the thousand, literally, in twenty-four hours. The only real question is ‘did he fall or was he pushed’. And that is unanswerable, I do not doubt.”
02 Shanghai Dreams (The Earl’s Other Son #2) Page 8
