Simon left, wondering just why Tyrwhitt had been so open in his plans for him. As well, what was the gain for the Commodore?
He sat in his cabin, waiting for Griffin, putting the pieces together. The viscountcy would make him a valuable follower for Tyrwhitt, useful if he had ambitions to become First Sea Lord. Additionally, he had shown well, it might be that Tyrwhitt thought he would be good for the Navy.
He heard the pipes as Griffin came aboard, rehearsed his words – short and simple.
He kept proceedings formal, did not offer drinks of any sort.
“Sit down, Griffin. I have informed the Commodore that I cannot work with you. I do not believe that you are suited for destroyers. You are an able officer with an excellent record and the Commodore will try to find you a post suitable for your talents, on a larger ship, if possible, if not, perhaps at a training establishment for minesweeping, if such exists. You are to report to the Commodore immediately, without returning to Lark. Your servant can pack your cabin for you; I will send the order. Thank you. You may go.”
Griffin stood, found his cap, saluted and left, not a word said.
Strachan presided over the honours as Griffin left the ship, raised an eyebrow to Simon.
“Gone. Too rigid for the boats, Mr Strachan. We did not see eye to eye. Are you satisfied with the arrangements we have for the depth bombs? I am still not entirely certain of those rails over the stern quarter…”
Lieutenant Commander Faulds appeared next day, late and tired from a tedious journey from Scapa Flow.
“Escaped, sir! There since August ’14 and fast reaching the end of my tether! Glad to join the Harwich Patrol, sir.”
Faulds had been in command of destroyers since mid ’13, was deeply skilled in their handling and settled in instantly to the habits Simon demanded.
The flotilla sailed into bad weather which held unbroken for a month, half a gale the least as they learned to work together. It was difficult, in many ways ideal – if they could operate efficiently in rough seas and poor visibility, they could meet almost any other problems that would come their way.
Mid-April saw them back to the yard for three weeks to make good storm damage and pick up the latest in modifications dreamed up by the Admiralty’s boffins.
“Leave for all possible bodies, Sturton. Four weeks for you, commencing tomorrow. You may telephone your lady!”
It would seem that all was planned at the Parretts, waiting only for the word. He was to arrive next day and would be told of all he was to do. For the while, he must not worry himself – they had been in contact with his uncle and all was arranged.
A week and he was standing in the parish church, full dress, Strachan at his side, First Lieutenant acting as best man as was only right in the absence of any personal friends in the country. A commendably brief ceremony, the vicar having a fine idea of what weddings were about, and then to a surprisingly large reception.
His Uncle Perceval was present as was a banker Uncle Isaacs, Jewishness set aside for the day. Lieutenant Higgins was prominent in the congregation, a well-preserved, handsome female in her forties next to him; he was to meet the formidable mater, it seemed. He spotted Brigadier Baker as well, to his pleasure, his lady at his side, wedded three weeks, he knew, while he was at sea. The remainder of the guests were unknown – a great mass of introductions to come, inevitable at a wedding.
The bride appeared and he forgot all else, standing beside her and playing his part, giving his responses in a firm voice, as was correct.
The reception was held at the Hall, long and lush, ignoring the war other than for the absence of young men and the numbers of those present who wore black bands.
His uncles gave speeches and produced suitably magnificent gifts, sparkling and golden, and joined in the toasting and feasting that followed, wartime austerity nowhere to be seen.
An orchestra made itself known and dancing commenced and the newly weds circulated.
“Alice, I must make you known to Brigadier Baker – known to me for years at Dartmouth and for a long cruise on St Vincent dreadnought before the war. He found the Navy not to be his cup of tea and proceeded to show that he should always have been a soldier!”
Richard introduced his wife.
“We had only a very quiet affair, Sturton, due to Primrose losing two cousins in the month beforehand, the family in mourning. They were both Flying Corps. Never met them, myself.”
“You have a brigade of New Army, do you not, Baker?”
“Taking them out in May. What of you, Sturton? Three stripes up now and a collection on your chest!”
Simon announced his new status, a light cruiser and a flotilla as well.
“Post Captain within a couple of years at this rate, old fellow. Unheard of before the war, for either of us.”
Their ladies agreed they were outstanding gentlemen, wondered how they would do when the war ended.
The men caught each other’s eye and shook their heads simultaneously, Primrose noticing and wondering aloud why.
“An Army of one hundred thousand, even of our best, is not going to bring the war to an end, my love. Germany has at least two millions of men at and behind the Trenches. We may - we must – make a massive breach and bring the trench war to an end, but there will be a long slow push thereafter. How would you say at sea, Sturton?”
“We are holding our own and tightening the blockade. Germany is importing nothing by sea. A slow process. The Channel is fairly much secure. The submarines are playing merry hell in the Atlantic and things are getting worse there. From the little I pick up, I would say there is a chance we will not be able to feed the country next year.”
“Two more years, Richard?”
“If we break the German will to fight, only one. I have my doubts about that.”
It was hard to maintain the smiles demanded of the day. Alice, who had remained silent, commented once they had moved on that she had never seen a VC before; the Brigadier seemed a pleasant man despite his eminence.
“Very much so. I like his wife – though not as much as my own!”
She laughed and held his arm the tighter.
“She seems far more clever than me, Simon.”
“I expect she may be. Very blue, in the old term. She seems happy.”
“How could she not be? She is obviously in love with him and he is everything one could ask for in a soldier. I prefer seamen!”
“Then let me introduce you to Lieutenant Higgins. I have told you of him.”
“Is that a warning, Simon?”
Higgins was at his best in society, had been trained for years, Simon suspected. He introduced his mother, very correctly.
“A pleasure, Mrs Higgins.”
“Entirely mine, Commander, and Mrs Commander! I have wished to meet you ever since you first showed yourself such a friend as well as captain to my good son!”
“Mr Higgins has the makings of a fine officer, ma’am.”
Alice smiled and said nothing, thinking that the young man had two arms and two legs and a head, all the makings any officer could wish for.
“To be decorated twice at your heels and promoted quickly to lieutenant, Commander, is all that his mother, any mother, might wish for. I am sure we shall see much of each other in Town when this war is finally over, sir.”
They smiled and passed onto the next set waiting for them, came eventually to a lieutenant commander leaning heavily on a walking stick as he stood to greet them.
“Well done, young Sturton! And congratulations to you, ma’am!”
“Captain Smallwood! You are looking better than I had ever hoped for, sir.”
“Not ‘sir’ – you outrank me now, Sturton. Back on my feet, more or less. I shall be working with the Commodore at Harwich from next month. I do not doubt I shall see more of you then.”
A minute or two and then to the Commodore in person, able just to find time for the wedding of his protégé and delighted to make Alice’s acquaintance.
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“Was that Brigadier Baker, the VC, I saw you with just now, Sturton?”
Simon explained the circumstance and caught Richard’s eye, made, left the distinguished pair in conversation.
“How many more, Alice?”
“Almost completed the round, Simon. Your Uncle Isaacs remains, together with his lady. I shall speak to them then retire to change.”
The good wishes of the clan were offered and gratefully accepted.
“If you should be in London in the next week or two, your Grandfather wishes to have a word, Simon. I believe he is planning! He sends his congratulations for your new ship, by the way.”
Simon wondered just how much influence the old man had brought to bear.
A week of honeymoon, the Navy forgotten, the couple happy in each other although Alice was hesitant in joining in their activity of a night – she had been sheltered and was a quiet girl, Simon told himself. They spent a few days at the Perceval manor in Kent, finding the house to be relatively new, large and not especially interesting and the park ploughed and down to wheat for the duration of the war.
“We can restore the paddocks when it is all over. The stables buildings are still there and there will be a place for ponies.”
The reference to children, veiled though it was, was unwelcome to Alice. She was not at all sure that she looked forward to pregnancy, inevitable though it might be. Not to worry! She welcomed her husband’s advances, as her mother had told her she must, and tried to show enthusiastic though she was not entirely certain how…
A week in London was more entertaining to her – she was a country girl, hardly knew Town and wished to make up for that lack. She shopped, despite being told that the stores were empty, and bought a wardrobe appropriate for a married lady and much enjoyed that part of her new existence.
Simon was taken to meet various lesser political figures, men whose faces rarely appeared in the newspapers but who played a significant role behind the scenes. They were the kingmakers, he was told, the gentlemen whose yea or nay determined just who should rise, or fall, at Westminster.
His Uncle Perceval was open in his explanations, accepting that as a Naval officer Simon would have little idea of how things actually worked.
“We are going to place you in the Conservative interest, Simon. Your Grandfather Isaacs agrees that they are the coming party. The Liberals head the government now but will inevitably find themselves taking the blame for the war and falling into opposition within a few years. Doesn’t matter a great deal, in fact, but it will be as well for you to be a member of a government. You have to remember that the Conservatives fall naturally into two sets, one of politicians, the other of natural backbenchers – youths of monied parents and the right schools and almost no ability who have to be found something to do. The braying, foxhunting mass can be ignored; they exist to lounge on the benches and troop through the lobbies at order and keep their mouths shut otherwise. You are to be one of the politically awake Tories, which is why we are making the introductions now, well before you can actually take a seat.”
It seemed rather ruthless to Simon. He wondered what part democracy played.
“A lot and almost nothing, simultaneously. You must win general elections. Having done so, you can ignore the masses for the next three or four years, provided all seems to go well. Power still resides in Westminster and Whitehall, provided it is exercised discreetly. This new Labour Party may change a little in the way things work. Not too much – it will become part of us if it grows important. You have the advantage that you are my heir. You will inherit a seat in the Lords sooner or later. It means that you can never become Prime Minister – that now seems clear – but it also gives you a vast deal of influence for the whole of your life, if you wish to use it.”
He began slowly to realise that the gentlemen he met in obscure offices and of an evening at dinner were to an extent forced to entertain him. He would be part of the background, at minimum, for the next half century, assuming he survived the war, and could not be fobbed off to lounge with the ignorant idlers of the backbenches. Like it or not, he was there and was a link to the City and all of its financial power; he was to be the face and voice of the Isaacs clan, acceptable publicly because he was Gentile not Jew. That also made him valuable to the clan – a link that they had previously lacked.
The sole question was whether he would choose obvious eminence, a place in government as a minister, or a less visible role as an advisor, a voice of wisdom to be consulted before precipitate action might be taken. Was he in fact to be the Admiral or the senior flag captain, the man who actually read the words from the Admiralty and made clear what the aims of any action must be?
The Admiral posed for the photographers these days, while the flag captain reported to Their Lordships, commonly enjoyed a greater degree of true responsibility.
He returned to Harwich and to the house on the outskirts they had rented where Alice would create a home for him to return to when possible.
Tyrwhitt greeted him and sent him off to sea.
“Increasing activity around Heligoland and the islands there, Sturton. All of our patrols are to pay particular attention to the north of our area. The Dover Patrol is being beefed up from Portsmouth and Plymouth temporarily and is to take over some of our work on the Belgian coast for a few weeks. You are to see what may be seen and keep an eye out for minelayers especially.”
“Why, sir? A peculiar place to lay fields, I would have thought. Not much chance of our venturing towards the Friesian Islands.”
“Word is – from those people who claim to know such things – that the latest plan is for the High Seas Fleet to sail and make a demonstration of their presence in the North Sea and then retire, drawing the Grand Fleet out from Scapa Flow and Queensferry and bringing them onto the new-laid minefields. As they pull away, possibly towing some of our battleships, certainly in some disorder, they will cross a line of submarines. Assuming the submarines to achieve some success, flotillas of destroyers in night actions to follow.”
It was a recipe for disaster.
“We could lose a dozen battleships in the space of a day and a night, and never bring the High Seas Fleet to action, sir.”
“We could. Jellicoe, I am told, believes it to be a strong possibility. Beatty does not. Beatty believes his battlecruisers are fast enough to avoid submarines and destroyers alike. Provided the minefields are spotted, and can be avoided, then he can get on the heels of the High Seas Fleet with his big guns and turn the tables.”
“That is crazy, sir! Battlecruisers are almost unarmoured. They are to chase cruisers and scout for the fleet. They have no place in the line of battle and must never come in range of battleships.”
“I know that, Sturton. So do you. Beatty wants to win the battle and to Hell with any nautical sense! Glory first and foremost, and the damned newspapers support him and pressure the government to give him free rein! You must do what you can the thwart the Germans and Beatty alike, Sturton!”
Chapter Fourteen
“A round of golf in the morning, Adams?”
The nine-hole golf course was one of the few relaxations available to officers at Scapa Flow. It was not elegant and the sheep provided a mobile hazard but it was better than hour after hour sat in the wardroom talking to the same people about the same things, day after day after day. Christopher was happy to accept.
“Getting up a boxing tournament again, they tell me, Proctor.”
Boxing – the Manly Art - was one of the few sports available to officers and men alike. Proctor had fought as a middleweight at Dartmouth, showing well there.
“Not for me this time, Adams! That damned stoker, Ferguson, has been posted up to Iron Duke – being champion he has a berth on the flagship! He will be competing and he is far better than me. I have met him twice in this last five years and been well thumped each time. A third lesson is not necessary. They say he will turn professional after the war. I shall be happy to watch his fig
hts!”
Christopher laughed. Boxing had never appealed to him; he did not consider himself classically handsome but had no wish to see his nose rearranged by a skilful fist.
“Your lady would not approve of you entering the ring, I must imagine, Adams. Just a month until you wed, is it not?”
“End of June, Proctor. You have received your invitation, have you not?”
“I have, dear boy, but I can never remember dates. I shall certainly be present, the Kaiser permitting.”
“I doubt it will happen this year, Proctor. The Big Smash, that is. I don’t think the High Seas Fleet will stir out of its comfortable moorings this summer. They must be content to sit in a harbour with a railway line direct to the fleshpots of Berlin and with hotels and clubs and restaurants to hand onshore, laughing as they think of us stuck up here in the wilds, in the middle of nowhere. Seems to me they are winning hands down so far, this war!”
“Won’t be when they come out, Adams. Eventually they must fall under our guns and that will be an end to it.”
Proctor was a turret officer, in charge of one of Black Prince’s main battery guns and convinced that he would fire the shell that would destroy a German battlecruiser when the great meeting of the fleets eventuated.
“Armour-piercing into the magazine at three thousand yards, dear boy! An end to all their troubling.”
Quite how Black Prince was to come so close was left out of his calculations, it seemed.
The Death of Hope Page 26