“No doubt they would have, Sir Richard, but there was a terrible lot of mud – it would have spoiled their brass and braid!”

  Chapter Two

  “Your contribution to the great raid on Zeebrugge was outstanding, Captain Sturton. Had the German flotilla arrived on the scene, then our victory would have been denied us. Your losses are to be regretted, but the young men died for their country, and more than that no man can desire! Your own personal bravery is also to be commended.”

  Simon stood at attention in front of the First Lord, silent and obedient. Geddes was far more a businessman than a politician, highly capable of running any organisation, totally unable to set its overarching policy. It was generally agreed that he was what the Navy needed in its highest political authority; the Sea Lords could deal with setting the aims for the Navy in wartime, but had shown incompetent at running it.

  The Admiralty had been unable to respond to the many new problems facing it during the war and Geddes was in process of turning it upside-down and bringing its administrators into the Twentieth Century. It was rumoured that he did not know who Nelson was, a source of some relief to those junior officers who were at sea and attempting to fight the war. Most importantly, he was not a part of the great feud between Jacky Fisher and Charlie B and had been able to ignore it in his appointments and general strategy.

  “The submarine menace is now at least partially controlled, Sturton, so I shall not post you to the Atlantic. Of nearly a million American soldiers a bare one hundred have died to submarines, despite the Kaiser’s vainglorious boasting that none would reach our shores. Removing Zeebrugge from the equation has further guaranteed their safety in Channel waters.”

  Again, Simon remained silent. The Channel Barrage had protected the Narrow Seas for nearly a year now. Zeebrugge had been successful but irrelevant. The big threat in the Channel was from surface ships, the large German destroyers which made frequent night attacks in their attempts to break the Barrage.

  “The major naval threat now, apart from the ongoing menace of the High Seas Fleet, is from Turkish ships in the Eastern Mediterranean. Led by Goeben and Breslau, now superficially Turkish but retaining the bulk of their German officers and men, the Turks have become an ongoing menace to our activities in the Aegean. They have raided our anchorage at Mudros and have sunk capital ships. They are suspected of planning activities in company with Austro-Hungarian vessels. There is a possibility of a concerted attack out of the Adriatic to destroy our shipping supporting the troops in Salonika.”

  That would be a disaster. Salonika was no more than a side-show, but heavy losses there must result in troops being pulled away from the Western front to replace them. From a naval viewpoint, battleships would have to be removed from the Grand Fleet at Scapa Flow, possibly weakening it to the extent that the High Seas Fleet might sally forth from Kiel again.

  “It might be the case that we would have to call upon further aid from the Japanese and American navies. That would not be desirable, as you will instantly appreciate. There is a substantial Japanese force in the Mediterranean, gaining valuable experience in submarine chasing and actually of considerable value to us. A squadron of American battleships would not be a desirable addition. The Med is not in the American sphere of influence, nor should it be.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very good. Italian forces are active in the Adriatic, naturally. They have achieved some few successes in fact, and have contributed to a lack of activity by the Austro-Hungarian forces. The French are supposedly the major power in the Mediterranean, but their Navy has shown itself of little value. In part, that is because many of their men have been utilised in naval brigades and sent to the Western Front to bolster their Army, which has not fully recovered from the blows to morale caused by the mutinies there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  That last statement seemed an utter nonsense to Simon. The collapse in French morale had created the mutinies, surely. Perhaps Geddes was one of those who believed that all was well with the world, the sole thorn in the flesh being Red conspiracies that led the foolish into opposition to the natural and proper state of affairs.

  “It is our intention, Captain Sturton, to set you in command of a small force, a major function of which will be to ensure there is no meaningful cooperation between Turkish and Austro-Hungarian forces. Based upon Malta, you will ensure that Austro-Hungarian squadrons do not exit the Adriatic and where possible do not leave their home ports. There will be other activities as well, which we need not go into here. When need arises, you will patrol the Aegean as well. You will not be expected to act as convoy escorts. You may find it desirable to shadow convoys as a distance, in order to intercept forces sent against them. For command, you are not to be part of the Mediterranean Fleet. I do not want your ships co-opted into performing tasks for them. Your orders will reach you via Senior Naval Officer, Malta, but will not come from him. You will be under direct command from the Admiralty.”

  “Yes, sir. I presume that necessary dockyard facilities, coaling and oiling, will be made available, sir?”

  “You will have access to stores at all British-controlled ports, and will have priority.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “Vice Admiral Stewart will discuss your command with you when you leave this office. The expectation is that you will sail inside the week.”

  Stewart was old in the service, sporting a white goatee and carrying a comfortable belly. He was accompanied by a rear admiral at least twenty years his junior.

  The younger man was familiar to Simon. They had met previously on service matters, not socially.

  “Earl of Calvine. We met in passing, more or less, when tidying up that Irish business, Sturton.”

  “So we did, sir. I remember now.”

  “Well dealt with. Been no more of that nonsense along the Irish coast. Cost the Germans two more submarines beyond the one you sunk, left short of fuel and forced to scuttle offshore. Their crews were captured as well, trying to get aboard a neutral heading for South America from Cork. Good work!”

  Stewart obviously had heard nothing of the Irish affair, was a little annoyed that a man of his seniority had not been kept in the know.

  “Very well, Sturton! This business in the Med. You are to have a powerful little flotilla, too big for a captain’s command, in my opinion, but that is not ours to argue. New ships and full of guns. Torpedoes, as well, not that they count for much!”

  “Yes, sir. My experience of torpedoes has been positive, sir.”

  “Luck! Had you had a big gun ship with you the results would have been better.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Still, you will have eight destroyers, all V or W, the most modern ships we have. Those will be your light force, of course. Additionally, you have two cruisers. One of these new things with five of six inch guns and a proper ship to lead you, an Edgar with a pair of nine point twos to give you real hitting power!”

  “An Edgar! Fifteen knots if we are lucky while the remainder of the flotilla will be capable of thirty. She will make a depot ship, sir. Valueless for anything else. The Broad Fourteens and Coronel showed the value of the old heavy cruisers, sir. Useless in modern war!”

  “You will have specific orders to command the cruiser, Sturton. You will lead from her bridge. A fine ship, properly used, and one that will enable you to be successful in your task.”

  “It will make the task impossible, sir. I decline the command.”

  Those words should end his naval existence, he knew.

  He intended to leave the Navy on the day peace was declared, so that made little difference to him. There was also the point that he had family connections that quite possibly made him more powerful than Stewart. He was heir to Viscount Perceval, the war having killed his two cousins, the Viscount’s sons; that gave him some immediate political clout as he would have a vote in the House of Lords eventually. Add to that, his maternal grandfather Isaacs was head of one of the most powerful merchant banks and his word had shaken governments in the past.

  He wondered if Stewart was aware of the realities, was inclined to doubt it. Stewart was not aware of very much, he suspected.

  “You what? Very well, Sturton! On your own head be it. I can only presume you feel you have risked your life too often and are not prepared to do so any further. We know what to do with the yellow flag when we see it!”

  Simon laughed.

  “How many battles have you fought in, sir? Perhaps I simply don’t recognise the gallantry medals on your breast!”

  The Earl of Calvine decided it was time to intervene.

  “That will do, Sturton! I suggest you take yourself off to my office. I will join you there in a few minutes.” He turned to Stewart. “Now, sir…”

  Simon waited no more than ten minutes, sipping an appallingly bad cup of tea made by Calvine’s own man.

  “Finest kind, sir. Like we had on the China Station.”

  The Earl came in, laughing.

  “Nasty of you, Sturton, to look for medals on that old fool’s chest. The old cruiser has been disposed of – not before time, it is truly useless! Your flotilla has been returned to its original state. One six inch cruiser; eight modern destroyers; four anti-submarine sloops equipped with the latest hydrophones and with depth-charges, a new invention. Stewart had dropped the sloops, being as they were irrelevant for fighting battleships, and had put the old cruiser in their place. The man is a complete fool!”

  Simon said nothing but wondered just how a rear admiral could be so easily dismissive of a vice.

  “I speak to Lloyd George at least once a week, Sturton. I speak to Isaacs twice.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I gather you are not seeking a career, post-war?”

  “No, sir. I could not return to cruising and polishing the brass. No wish to go across to your side of the Service, either, sir.”

  “Wise! I am doing the same, getting out. I had years on the half-pay list before the war and now want to get out entirely. Had it with the Navy, in fact. Plenty to do in civilian life, which is where I had effectively been for years. What will you do?”

  “My grandfather is arranging a seat for me, sir. A few years in the Commons prior to my eventual move to the Lords.”

  “Makes good sense. I shall probably show my nose at Westminster as well. I shall be working for the hong too. Blantyres, that is. Got some other Chinese interests besides that. Anyway, enough of that! Let’s get to the reality of your mission, shall we? You will have noticed, I trust, that the stuff you heard from Stewart makes no sense at all, though he thought it was very clever.”

  “I did wonder, sir, just what I was supposed to do with a small squadron if the Austrian dreadnoughts came out.”

  “Exactly! They won’t. The Italians are doing a good job of keeping them in harbour, using light torpedo craft, some of them rather unorthodox in nature. The Austrians are sending their submarines out still, and achieving a lot too much with them. On the surface, that will be your purpose, trying to sink them and possibly attack their bases. More importantly is the question of Austria.”

  “Difficult to sink Austria, sir. Need a large torpedo.”

  “Shut up and listen!” Calvine was not amused.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Austria-Hungary is a mess. It is comprised of dozens of dukedoms, principalities and countries. There are surrounding states that have escaped from the Empire, and which they want back. The Balkans generally have no agreed borders and are untidy in terms of language groups and religious communities. At its simplest, there are Greek Orthodox, Roman Catholics, Protestants and Moslems. There are also Albanians, who are little more than primitive tribesmen and may have their own unique religion, which they won’t tell outsiders about.”

  “Yes…”

  “When the war ends, Austria-Hungary will collapse. The two main countries will split apart. That is a given. The question remains of what will happen to the Balkan countries. We will not tolerate their remaining in subjection either to Austria or to Hungary. They will be independent, in some form. To achieve that, they must be armed.”

  “I see, sir. Polly, Commander Parrett, that is, was involved in that to some extent, I believe.”

  “He was. A little too blatantly, I am afraid. He will not be joining your command for being known. An able youngster, but too much inclined to fly the Jolly Roger and involve himself visibly. I gather that he has become heir, as well.”

  “Both brothers killed on the Somme, sir.”

  “Along with far too many others. A disaster for British arms. Haig still claims it as a victory, you know.”

  They shook their heads in unison.

  “Right, sir. Get to Malta, your people will tell me who is where and I shall run guns to them.”

  “At its simplest, yes, Sturton.”

  “Good. How will the munitions be carried, sir? Sloops are too small, as are destroyers, and the cruiser is too big to enter fishing harbours.”

  “Well thought. Local-seeming coasters, little ships, two- or three-hundred tonners. To be escorted in and out, all vessels observing anything out of the ordinary to be dealt with. Covered by anti-submarine operations.”

  “Three hundred tons says field artillery as well as rifles, does it not?”

  Calvine nodded appreciatively.

  “Well worked out. Horse artillery, the old thirteen pounders that are of no use at all in Flanders. Got hold of a good few French machineguns as well. Madsen guns in some numbers – there is a factory in England producing them. They hoped the Americans would buy them, but they chose to stick with their own manufacturers, which makes sense.”

  “Ah yes, a light gun. Met up with one off the Belgian coast a couple of years ago. Fellow in your trade playing games without informing the patrolling small craft that he was offshore doing his own stuff. Boarded him in the night and bashed him and his crew most severely. All my men saw was a small boat with a gun that was obviously not one of ours.”

  Calvine shrugged.

  “Too many amateurs in the Game in this war. No surprise if they get their fingers burnt.”

  “Indeed, sir. Where is my flotilla? How soon do I join them?”

  “Your cruiser is at Chatham. The destroyers join you off Portsmouth. The sloops will rendezvous off Ushant. You will work them up while making a fast passage to Malta. You will aim to leave Chatham on the morning tide, the day after tomorrow. You are required to attend the Palace for an investiture tomorrow morning, Sturton. Wife and child in attendance, if you please. VC – bold and fearless, etcetera, attack on a battleship. Bloody well done, man! You are specifically able to invite representatives of the Isaacs clan, including your grandfather. Lloyd George in person wishes to see them acknowledged as part of the war effort. Was I you, I would go to them now. Your wife is at the Town House, so that is no difficulty.”

  Simon left, amazed, to an extent annoyed – the dead boys in the little destroyers deserved more recognition. They had died flogging themselves into battle in outdated, underpowered, ancient wrecks; they had been the heroes. Mentioning them, however, would raise the question of why they had been sent out to battle, and that would never do: it might uncover incompetence.

  Isaacs senior was at his desk, as he was every day despite being in his eighties.

  “Buckingham Palace for tomorrow? You to be awarded a Victoria Cross and I am specifically invited to attend. Go I must! There is more to the invitation than simply to bring the family to your side, Captain Sturton. You will know that I have made some contributions to the Zionist cause?”

  Simon did not, had no knowledge of Zionism, apart from Balfour, the politician, having made a Declaration, which he had not read.

  “Suffice it to say, by putting me in the same room as His Majesty, Mr Lloyd George is making his support for the cause overt. It will be known and commented upon in the embassies, and will be reported to their governments. I shall bring some of your uncles as well, with their wives. An excellent thing! While I think of it, Simon, my respect for your bravery – it is not merely political posturing, this medal! My car will take you to your house – taxis are increasingly difficult to find, I am told.”

  Everything had its political implications, Simon realised, when one had once entered the world of public affairs. He was to become a Member, and that meant he had left privacy behind.

  “The Palace for the morning, my lady!”

  His wife nodded gravely, she had been officially informed earlier in the day.

  “I have the clothing for the occasion, Simon. It has seemed probable that we might be called to attend a levee or some such since you became known, so I have spent vast sums of money on the proper attire. I have a new frock for our son!”

  “He is to come with us, by order. There must be a performance for the newspapers. My surviving grandfather will also be present, again, by order. I do not know if contact has been made with your parents or if Polly is to hand. I have not been informed.”

  “A Cross brings you into parity with Richard Baker, does it not?”

  Simon wrinkled his nose, displeased with the comparison.

  “He won his award for simple personal bravery, putting his own neck on the block, time after time. Mine is for hazarding my ship and myself in order to drive away a battleship that would have destroyed the Zeebrugge expedition. The two are not comparable, in my opinion. He is a warrior.”

  She was not sure she understood the distinction, saw it was important to him.

  “Is the Viscount to attend, Simon?”

  “I hope so. I have not had the opportunity to speak to him yet. I received sailing orders as well, this morning. For the day after tomorrow to go out to the Adriatic, commanding one of the six inch cruisers and with a flotilla of destroyers and sloops, mainly to keep down the Austrian submarines, which have been very active in the Med.”

 

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