A captain’s promotions also depended very much on the appearance of the ship he was so fortunate as to command. To progress eventually to post-captain and thus to a larger ship demanded a good report at admiral’s inspections – and admirals almost without exception judged the ship by its paintwork and the shine on its brass. A very few admirals actually wanted to know if a ship could shoot its guns, and even hit things with them, but most knew that the Navy would never go to war, so gunnery was an irrelevance.
Magnus had listened more than once to his seniors explain to each other that the Navy was so big that it could never be challenged. The sole function of the Fleet was to be seen, to show the flag, to occasionally send landing parties ashore in various colonies, but never to fight a naval battle – such things were no longer to be imagined, so there was no point to wasting money and making the paintwork dirty by firing the guns. Jacky Fisher’s followers did not subscribe to this view, but Charlies B’s people held to it as orthodoxy, another reason for the split between them and the schism they were creating in the Navy. Magnus knew as well that more than half of the senior officers belonged to neither camp, regarding both admirals as troublemakers who interfered with their quiet routine of regattas and polishing the brass.
The trouble was, Magnus realised, that he now needed to prosper in the Navy; he could no longer happily drift along on the staff of whatever admiral could be persuaded to take him. He must be successful, if he was to marry his rich lady and not then be inevitably, lovingly, patronised by her. He did not wish to become Miss Blantyre’s pet, and that demanded promotion in his own world.
He could not afford to command the smartest ship on the China Station, unless perhaps he could somehow organise the appointment of a new and rich first lieutenant. He was committed to the Fishpond, a follower of Jacky Fisher, and that gave him the option of making Racoon into a ‘gunnery ship’ – one that excelled in rapid fire and accuracy with all of its weapons. That demanded drill and practice, and the enthusiastic support of his officers.
“Gun drill, Mr Mason. I understand that Racoon’s habit is to indulge in one hour a day of work with the six inch, and no more than two hours a week with the three pounders. Still less with our pair of machine guns.”
“Yes, sir. Mr Plumb considers that to be quite sufficient.”
“Does he now. Bring the records of our last live firing to my cabin, if you please, Mr Mason, and we shall discover whether he is correct in his complacency.”
Ships were ordered to conduct live firing against specified targets once a year, and to send the results to the Admiralty. Fewer than half managed to comply with that command, and there was little reason to suppose that their returns were ever inspected and commented upon. Practice rounds were often never fired and some ships simply dumped them over the side rather than allow dirty smoke to foul the topsides.
Racoon had fired on targets only a year before; the results had been recorded and were now in front of Magnus.
“A range of about three thousand yards, Mr Mason. One third, probably less, of the effective range of the six inch Quick Firer. Very nearly point-blank, in fact. Firing twelve rounds in three minutes, which is not the fastest possible by some way, one might expect a very high percentage of hits, particularly as the ship’s speed is recorded as five knots! Instead, sir, what do we discover? Seventy-two rounds fired in total, and five hits recorded, and some fourteen described as ‘near’ – Mr Plumb noting that firing against a ship, a far larger target, most of the nears would have hit. For the three pounders, the range was reduced, for some reason I cannot comprehend, to one thousand yards. Again, twelve rounds from each gun in three minutes, rather than the two which might have been appropriate, and they recorded seven hits, but ‘about thirty’ nears.”
“Yes, sir. I was not myself present on the occasion, sir, having been appointed a few days afterwards. I gather that Racoon made one of the better performances of the day. I am told that the battleship Beaufort made no hits at all with her ten inch guns or her six inch, sir.”
“God save us all! Let us bring Mr Plumb into our discussion, Mr Mason.”
Mr Plumb thought the ship had shown very well.
“All things considered, sir, we were one of the best on station. Our pulling boats showed in the top three fastest over all distances, sir. We set the sails and furled them as fast as any of the other cruisers, and quicker than any sloop. The admiral commented upon the speed with which we coaled ship, sir, and cleaned up afterwards.”
“But the gunnery was abysmally poor, Mr Plumb.”
“I would beg to differ, sir. The gunnery was as efficient as any in the fleet, and far better than most, sir. One or two of these so-called modern types hit more frequently, of course, though there is little gain in so doing. Land a half a dozen six inch bricks on an enemy and the fight will be over, sir.”
“Nonsense, Mr Plumb! The bulk of German ships are armoured above the waterline, to such an extent that six inch shells will not penetrate the hull. The sole use of our main armament will be to riddle the superstructure, Mr Plumb, to depopulate the bridge and render the enemy unable to fight for lack of command. New German ships are being built without the mass of top hamper that the Navy still demands – no sails, no rigging to interfere with their guns. The Germans as well practice their gunnery on their ranges in the Baltic. Observation of their turret guns says one over, one under and the remainder all on target, their ships travelling at ten knots typically and the range as much as eight thousand yards. Their light QF guns are expected to maintain six rounds a minute unfailingly and to hit fast moving torpedo boats and their like. I appreciate we are unlikely to meet a flotilla of torpedo boats on the Yangtse, Mr Plumb – but judging by the figures for the three pounders, that is a damned good thing! There must be an improvement in our performance, Mr Plumb, or there will be a new Gunnery Officer, sir!”
Mr Plumb was inclined to sulk – he did not think that he had done so very poorly and could hardly fire live on the river, when all was said and done.
“We shall fire live at sea, as soon as can be organised. For the while, practice loading and making ready and especially in laying the guns on moving targets from a ship in motion. I want rifle practice as well, Mr Plumb. Every man, and this is to include stokers, is to be able to handle his Lee Metford, sir. The admiral informs me that policy will be to exchange Lee Metfords for Lee Enfields at the end of commission, in effect only in England. The rifles that have been sent out are for issue to Army and perhaps to Royal Marines only. A pity, but we will do well, as we always have, with the older weapon.”
“A fine rifle, the Lee Metford, sir. very accurate.”
“So I am told, Mr Plumb. The Lee Enfield is equally accurate and will be capable of quick firing at twice the rate. The figures I have seen suggest that the Army will be looking at as many as twenty aimed rounds a minute from men settled in a trench of emplacement with a rest for the rifle.”
“Half that from the shoulder in the open field, sir, but still a remarkable rate of fire. A battalion of eight hundred men will produce a massive fire, sir. Even eight thousand rounds a minute will end the role of cavalry in the field, sir. Difficult to miss a horse, sir.”
“Agreed, Mr Plumb. The new rifle will be a most effective weapon. Not our direct concern yet, sir. The guns, however, are. I look forward to receiving your proposals for training, Mr Plumb. I expect to implement them as we return from Hankow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are, of course, senior Gunnery Officer for the squadron, Mr Plumb. Gannet and Shearwater are thinly armed with two five inch and two four inch breech loaders apiece, not quick firing. Mutine is massively armed, quite possibly too much so for efficiency; though I do suspect we may be thankful for her machine guns. The destroyer Mountjoy is more of a despatch vessel, as far as we are concerned – one twelve pounder and five sixes, and her torpedoes, of course, which are eighteen inch rather than our fourteen. You will wish to oversee their effective use of
their guns, I believe.”
“Gun crews, sir, will be the problem. The smaller ships will be hard pressed to man all of their guns. A destroyer typically has a crew of fewer than seventy men.”
“Agreed, Mr Plumb. That will lead you to some interesting conclusions, I do not doubt. I look forward to reading your proposals. I would add that a significant increase in the efficiency of the squadron must lead to your promotion to a larger ship.”
Magnus saw no reason to say aloud that failure would lead to Mr Plumb’s career stagnating, at very best. As a Commissioned Gunner, Mr Plumb could never aspire to the command of any vessel, but promotion into a battleship was well possible and would have a very beneficial effect on his pay rate and particularly on his eventual pension. Magnus had inspected Mr Plumb’s file and had discovered there was a Mrs Plumb and several junior Plumbs living in Southsea, the genteel part of Portsmouth town. An increase in his emoluments must be of interest to him, might overcome his die-hard conservatism and push him into useful action.
“Where do we berth in Hankow, Mr Mason?”
“At anchor in the river, sir, off the Bund, or on a pontoon, if any are free. It cannot be on the Bund because of the nature of the settlement, sir. The Foreign Concession is somewhat unusual, sir, in that it is best described as a ribbon along the river, rarely extending as much as about a furlong inland, but nearly four miles long, or will be when it is complete. Currently it is about two-thirds British, but there are extensions in hand that will include a greater presence of Italians, Germans, French and Russians in addition to the existing tiny acreages granted to Spain, Japan and the United States. Because the land grant is so narrow, there is no space for warehousing and the great bulk of goods are stored in hulks moored along the Bund – hence our need to anchor offshore.”
“Spanish, did you say, Mr Mason? I did not know they were present at all in China.”
“A mission, sir. Catholic, as goes without saying. Being Spanish, one presumes Jesuits.”
Magnus did not know why that might be so but saw no reason to object to the comment.
“No Austrian or Belgian presence there, Mr Mason?”
“Not yet at Hankow, sir. Why, I do not know, although neither is much to be seen in China at all, though the Belgians are increasing their presence. The Russians are a little stronger than might be normal. Why, again I do not know, although they are generally more to be found in the north of China than in the south in the nature of things, having the land frontier.”
“I did hear something of a railway line, from Hankow to Peking, Mr Mason?”
“That is to be a Belgian endeavour, sir. The surveying is complete, I believe, and construction is to commence soon. It is a great project, sir, the better part of seven hundred and fifty miles in length and with a bridge across the Yellow River. A day overland from Hankow to Peking when the rails are finally laid, sir. Valuable to China, sir, because of the industry in and around Hankow. There is a deal of iron around the area, and factories for the processing of agricultural goods, tobacco and cotton and tea especially.”
“Tea?”
“The Russians, sir, produce something called ‘tea bricks’, for their peasants and the Siberians.”
“How strange!”
Chapter Two
The Earl’s Other Son Series
Shanghai Dreams
“What an ugly place, Mr Mason!”
“Reminiscent of the North of England, sir. Dirt and chimneys and mills and factories and hordes of grubby little people.”
Hankow was not a handsome city – far less so than Shanghai and without the hills of Hong Kong to break its monotony. It was the home to new industry, the bulk Chinese owned and run, and sat on a dull, low-lying and immense plain, obviously subject to flooding.
“There is coal and iron ore within a few miles of Hankow, sir, and so there are blast furnaces here, the materials brought in by barge. The plain is fertile, producing tobacco and tea and an amount of various grains. There are other ores in the hills not so far distant which are brought here for refining. The town is rich, or could be, sir.”
“Why is it not?”
“Well… Actually, I suppose it is, sir, but there are so many people to share the riches between. It is China, sir!”
Magnus had already lost hope of an unbiased and clear report of anything Chinese from his lieutenants. He nodded his thanks and picked up his binoculars to inspect the town as it unfolded in front of them.
“That is the River Han joining to the starboard, I presume?”
“Yes, sir. Large and navigable for a considerable distance, even more subject to variations in its level than the Yangtse, sir. It is nothing for the water level to vary fifty feet overnight, according to the Pilot. It is a peculiar river, sir, narrower at Hankow than for much of its course, due to the water being dissipated into lakes and marshland a short distance north of Hankow. It is perhaps a furlong wide where it joins the Yangtse, but that depends on the season and the extent of the flooding.”
The Admiralty Pilot was the reference book for every navigable stretch of water in the world, or so it was believed. It was normally accurate and was kept up to date by the reports from every ship in the Navy. Every navigation specialist in the Navy relied upon the Pilot, and had an interest in maintaining its reliability.
“Flooding in the far hills, I presume, Mr Mason?”
“Exactly, sir. It may be dry here and, unknown to us, there can be torrential rain two hundred miles away. The same as for the Yangtse, of course, sir.”
“This country is too damned big, Mr Mason!”
“Too full of Chinks as well, sir.”
Magnus returned to his glasses.
“Eight ocean-going ships tied up, Mr Mason. That must be at least a three thousand tonner over there.”
“I have been told of as many as fifteen on occasion, sir, when one harvest or another is at full. Passengers as well, of course. Possible to moor a ten thousand tonner with a thirty foot draught, sir, in most seasons. Any of our cruisers can navigate as far as Hankow, sir.”
Magnus had heard that passenger steamers were occasionally pirated, mostly by gangs in search of ransoms. The existence of pirates was the main justification for the gunboat patrols, or so he had been told. Seeing the number and size of the ships he was more inclined to take the pirate menace seriously.
“Are we limited to particular pontoons here, Mr Mason? Is there a harbourmaster to allocate berths?”
“Both, sir. We will tie up off the British Concession, except in case of emergency. No shore leave for the crew in Hankow, sir. Not in normal times. The thing is, sir, that it’s not like Shanghai where there is a safe area close to the Concessions and policed by our people. The men would have to penetrate into the Chinese towns for their bars, and other places of entertainment. Not safe, sir. Officers can use the Club, a large bar and visitor’s facilities there, sir, but the men must stay aboard.”
Magnus had been told this already; now that he could see the actual ribbon of the Concessions he could understand the warning.
“They tell me we have three towns here, different names but we call them all Hankow?”
“Yes, sir. Both sides of the Yangtse and either side of the Han, like a letter T, sir. The Concessions are all on this starboard bank, east of the Han. We have no influence in the other two towns, sir. I am told that so many people work for the Concessions that they make the law in this one town – but not on the other sides of the rivers.”
“Difficult indeed. Is that one of ours I see tied up, Mr Mason?”
“One of the old gunboats, sir. There is one based on each treaty port. Mostly they remain tied up, except when they are called out to a mission or to a mine or trading station upriver. They are no more than a threat – and not much of a one at that. Twenty years old and often enough still armed with muzzle loaders and a tiny crew. I can’t see the name on that one, but it looks like a pair of seven inch muzzle loading rifles and four or maybe six smaller gu
ns, sir. More likely to rely on a landing party with rifles than their guns, sir.”
Magnus had heard of the little gunboats, now not much more than a laughing-stock on the river. They were, he was told, due to be replaced by more modern steamers, gunboats designed for the purpose.
“Not as bad as the Americans, I am told, Mr Mason.”
Mason laughed, waved a deprecating hand.
“Civil War era sidewheelers, sir. Double ended so that they can travel astern as easily as ahead, except that the paddlewheels tend to break down if they try to travel more than a hundred miles in either direction! Very foolish, sir!”
“And that is it for warships, I understand. Off record, what do we do if we are applied to for aid by French or Italians or somesuch, Mr Mason? I know that the official line is that we wait for formal application by their authorities to go through our senior officers, but what is the reality?”
Mason shrugged – he had no experience to go by, knew only the word-of-mouth tales that had been passed in the clubs and wardrooms of other ships.
“I do not know of a certainty, sir. I think it depends on local conditions, sir. From what I have been told, and not by men I necessarily trust to be other than story-tellers, it depends on just who is in trouble. A commercial place in need of help may be responded to quickly, unless it is a competitor of Jardines or one of the other great hongs. It might be the case that Jardines would have no problem with a German or American firm being burned out, in which case, we do as we are told and get there too late to be of any use. It might be a mission station under attack, and the word might be to hurry up to the rescue, or to stay well clear because they have been stirring up trouble and upsetting the natives. It all depends on the local conditions, sir. What I do know is that we make our number with the hongs and then do as we are told. No sailor with any pretensions to a career will upset Jardines or Butterfield and Swire or any of the big men, that is a certainty. Nor Blantyres, of course, sir.”
02 Shanghai Dreams (The Earl’s Other Son #2) Page 3