Churchill, who was preparing to take over control of the Navy for at least a month before he actually did so, had one further important task to perform before he left his post as Home Secretary. Very shortly after the Committee of Imperial Defence meeting he chaired another committee. This one had been specially formed to review and amend the existing Official Secrets Act. Until this point the Act had only really covered military installations, but under Churchill’s guidance draconian changes were made. From 1911 the Act not only covered military installations but docks, harbours and shipyards as well. The Act came into effect on 22 August 1911, only a few weeks before Churchill moved from the Home Office to the Admiralty. Its new provisions made it simple to keep what went on over the next few years a secret, and made it possible, because they came and went via civilian docks, to control what British seamen said about anything that happened while they were serving afloat.
When Churchill received his appointment to the Admiralty, Parliament was in recess, and so were the higher echelons of the Royal Navy. As far as those who generally staffed the Admiralty were concerned, this was holiday time and they were all off hunting, shooting and yachting. Churchill immediately complained that, should the call to arms come, there would be no one in place to answer it. (One assumes that Asquith was aware of the situation at the Admiralty, which explains his readiness to remove McKenna from control there.)
Clearly the situation was intolerable and would have to change. In short order the new First Lord made sweeping changes; from then onwards the Admiralty was in a state of war readiness with, for the first time in years, officers on duty 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
Churchill, after hearing what had been said at the Committee of Imperial Defence meeting, understandably had no confidence in the present First Lord, Sir Arthur Wilson, and if he had been given a free hand he would have replaced him with the recently retired Admiral Fisher as head of staff. However, Fisher had left the service under something of a cloud, so bringing him back presented difficulties. Fisher’s age, his bad temper and, above all, King George V’s dislike of the old admiral all worked against him. He had been a favourite of King Edward VII but not the new King, who, as an ex-naval man, took a personal interest in the affairs of his old service.
Nevertheless, Churchill realised that the Navy desperately needed reform and that to bring it about he would have to create a Naval War Staff. Unfortunately he hadn’t got the faintest idea how to go about doing so. All of his previous military experience had been with the Army and had little bearing on naval requirements. He needed help, and there was only one man whom he believed knew all there was to know about the Navy. While he was still at the Home Office Churchill, despite knowing full well that the King and most of the Government would oppose his doing so, had secretly contacted Jackie Fisher, who was enjoying his retirement as Baron Fisher of Kilverstone at Lucerne. Fisher, who had been First Sea Lord until his retirement in 1910, agreed to help Churchill. The politician and the sailor held a three-day meeting at Reigate at the end of October, staying up half the night talking as Fisher outlined his programme of reforms. He also gave Churchill a few pointers about managing the Navy, such as ‘Armour is vision’, Never rely on an expert’, ‘The secret of successful administration is the intelligent anticipation of agitation’, and ‘Somebody must be hung for every little thing that goes wrong’. The new chief of the Admiralty took in everything Fisher had to say. Fisher also explained that Churchill needed the right men on his naval staff. Those right men were, of course, men that Fisher either liked or could control. The Navy was officially controlled by a board of four Sea Lords under the supervision of the First Sea Lord. The First Sea Lord was responsible for war preparations and the distribution of the fleet; the Second Sea Lord was responsible for manning the ships and training the men; the Third directed naval construction; and the Fourth saw to stores and ammunition. All of the existing Sea Lords would have to be changed if the Royal Navy was to be ready to fight a war against Germany, which Fisher had long been sure would start on 21 October 1914. In a remarkable example of professional foresight he was only about seven weeks out in his prediction. Most important of all, Fisher’s recommendation was the appointment of Admiral John Jellicoe as the new First Sea Lord. If Jellicoe was in command of the home fleet on the outbreak of war, Churchill would have nothing to fear, Fisher insisted.
The 70-year-old ex-First Sea Lord also explained to Churchill the need for bigger and better battleships. The new ships should be fitted with 15-inch guns and should burn oil instead of coal, which would not only dramatically reduce the manpower needed to operate the ships but would also reduce the amount of smoke created by the ships at sea, making them harder for the enemy to find. It would also mean that they would spend less time refuelling and more time at sea, effectively increasing the numbers of available vessels.
As a frightening example of how ready Churchill was to take risks, the following takes some beating. Late in 1911 the new Admiralty supremo ordered the construction of five new, fast oil-burning battleships, Queen Elizabeth, Warspite, Barham, Valiant and Malaya. As Fisher had advised, the new ships were to carry 15-inch guns, none of which had ever before been made. Normally a prototype weapon would have been built and tested, but that would take a year, much too long to suit Churchill. True to type, the First Lord of the Admiralty was taking a tremendous gamble with the country’s safety, as the new guns might turn out to be useless, in which case so would be the ships that carried them.
To guarantee fuel for the new oil-burning ‘Queen Elizabeth’ class battleships, Churchill had earlier decided that Britain would nationalise the Anglo Persian Oil Company, which brought in oil from the huge fields of what is now Iraq. (Short-sightedness on the part of the politicians who handed control of the oil back to the Iraqis must be one of the most obvious causes of the recent war in the Middle East, which was supposedly fought to remove non-existent weapons of mass destruction from the hands of Saddam Hussein.)
When Winston Churchill had moved from the Home Office to become First Lord of the Admiralty late in September 1911, he was already aware of the disappointment that the new Cunard liners had turned out to be as far as the Navy was concerned. Although they had been built to Admiralty specifications and under Admiralty supervision, the new Cunarders were completely useless for their intended role as armed merchant cruisers. They were too big, much too expensive to run and, above all, much too fragile to tangle with an enemy warship no matter how small. (This conclusion would be powerfully reinforced during the first month of the First World War when Lusitania sank in just over 15 minutes after being struck by a single torpedo from U-9.). The Royal Navy was big and powerful enough to manage without the liners, but the Army, in the light of the Committee for Imperial Defence meeting, could not make do without reliable troopships. It was already apparent that the first of the new White Star liners was not as well built as she should have been. The Olympic, which had sailed on her first transatlantic voyage on 14 June, was already in need of extensive repairs to her hull-plating where riveted joints were failing. This defective workmanship would have its part to play in later events.
Clearly the British Government and the Army could not take the new White Star ships on trust, particularly when events at Agadir almost plunged Europe into a premature war. The vessels would have to be tested, and if that test could also for a time discourage J. P. Morgan from shipping his ancient artefacts out of Europe, so much the better. As a bonus the test envisaged would also provide an opportunity to try out the ram bows that were still being built into British warships as a matter of course, although almost all other navies had discontinued the practice.
Chapter 6
Olympic and Hawke
Everything at Southampton seemed much as usual on the morning of 20 September 1911 as Olympic prepared to depart on her fifth round trip to New York, via Cherbourg and Queenstown in Southern Ireland. Until that morning there had only been a skeleton crew aboard the ship to look after
the everyday routine work that had to be done even when the vessel was in port - jobs such as keeping a couple of boilers working to provide steam power for the ship’s electrical systems and cranes. Dockyard workers, together with members of the crew, had seen to the hard work of filling the ship’s bunkers with about 7,000 tons of coal and bringing the cargo aboard. Cargo stowage was the responsibility of the ship’s second officer, who would have prepared a plan showing exactly what cargo was stowed in what hold so as to maintain the balance of the vessel. Employees of the White Star Line would have seen that the ship was fully provided with clean linen and enough food and drink to keep a small army satisfied for the six or seven days that the ship was expected to be at sea.
As this was sailing day a full crew would be required, so most of these had been signed on for the voyage during the previous couple of days. Even in those far-off days, when the British merchant fleet was by far the largest in the world, ordinary seamen and stokers were signed on for a single voyage at a time, out and back. There was no such thing as security of employment, but once a seaman had signed on for a voyage he could confidently expect to be paid for the full duration of it, barring catastrophic accidents such as the ship sinking. From early on the morning of 20 September ordinary seamen, stokers, coal trimmers, stewards and the like began to arrive and prepare the ship for sea. More boilers had to be lit and brought up to their full working pressure of 215lb per square inch. Cabins were prepared to receive their passengers. The ship’s senior officers began to arrive and check that all was in order, including the captain, Edward John Smith, Commodore of the line and the highest paid seaman afloat.
However, not all of the ordinary sailors who joined the ship that morning remained aboard throughout the preparations. It was normal practice for some of them to slip ashore for a last pint or two in the local hostelries once their particular tasks were completed, only rejoining the ship at the last possible moment. It was not uncommon for some of these men to misjudge just what was the last possible moment and miss the sailing of their ship altogether. Extra men were signed on as a matter of course to cover this eventuality.
As usual before the sailing of an immigrant ship - a ship that carried large numbers of usually third-class passengers intent on starting a new life in another country - Board of Trade inspectors arrived. They were there to check that equipment such as lifeboats and accommodation was in order before signing the necessary documentation allowing the ship to leave port. Another requirement for a liner leaving Southampton was a Trinity House pilot to guide the ship through the tricky waters of the Solent. For this voyage Captain William Bowyer was the pilot.
As the morning wore on the passengers began to arrive. Many first- and second-class came by boat train, which delivered them to the quayside right alongside the huge liner. Third-class passengers were not so well provided for and generally made their own way to the ship. No matter what class passengers were travelling, as soon as they went aboard the ship they were met by a steward and were taken or directed to their cabins or dormitories.
While the preparations were being made on and around Olympic, preparations of another sort were also well under way. HMS Hawke, one of six ‘Edgar’ class cruisers, had already put to sea from Portsmouth. The 360-foot-long 7,350-ton warship had, even by 1911, long since been outdated by more modern designs. With her backward-raked bow, seen in profile, she looked to modern eyes as if the extreme forward end of the vessel had been fitted upside down. The obsolete cruiser was armed with two 9.2-inch guns, ten 6-inch and 17 smaller ones. More up-to-date warships, ever since the appearance of HMS Dreadnought in 1906, tended to carry an all-big-gun armament, with just a few smaller weapons for self-defence. As one would expect, knowing of the Navy’s inbuilt resistance to change, an important design feature of the ‘Edgar’ class of ship was a steel beak projecting forward beneath the water, from the bow. This armoured ram was soon to prove how effective it could be.
HMS Hawke left the Royal Naval Dockyard at Portsmouth at about 7.30 that morning, ostensibly for some speed trials. Even when she was new the obsolete cruiser couldn’t quite have managed 20 knots, something that everybody with any connection with her would have been well aware of. Speed trials for a vessel whose best speed was already a matter of record seems the tiniest bit surplus to requirements but, nonetheless, that is the reason given by the Royal Navy for Hawke’s excursion.
At about 11.30 that morning Olympic cast off her moorings and moved out into Southampton Water. Her fifth voyage had begun, a voyage that would prove to be another major factor in the loss of the ship we know as Titanic.
Very slowly Olympic made her way down Southampton Water heading for the Solent, where she would turn into the eastern channel, passing the northern coast of the Isle of Wight, on her way out into the English Channel. In fact, she moved so slowly down towards the Solent that it seemed as if she was barely under way at all. It took her more than an hour and a quarter to cover about 10 miles. Modern-day car ferries cover the same stretch of water in much less time. By the time Olympic began her turn into the Solent, HMS Hawke, which had supposedly been off St Catherine’s Point on the southern tip of the Isle of Wight at the time Olympic cast off, was fast approaching her from the west, at least as fast as the old cruiser could manage. Hawke had apparently travelled more than 30 miles in the time it had taken Olympic to cover 10, and half of that 30 miles had been through the heavily congested and notoriously hazardous Needles Channel between the mainland and the Isle of Wight.
The Naval Dockyard at Portsmouth lies a little to the east of Southampton Water, and Olympic would pass the entrance on her way out into the English Channel. Hawke was on her way home and initially travelling considerably faster then the liner. On clearing the sandbanks at the mouth of Southampton Water Olympic made a sweeping turn to port and began to pick up speed.
According to the received, official version of events, the cruiser attempted to overtake the accelerating liner on her starboard side. This placed the warship between Olympic and the Isle of Wight. As the Hawke, which was initially travelling faster than the liner, reached a point somewhere about abreast of the White Star ship’s second funnel, the liner matched then surpassed her speed. By this time Hawke, trapped between Olympic and the land, was running out of sea room. Commander Blunt, on the Hawke, then decided to abandon his attempt to overtake and instead turned out into more open water by passing close under the liner’s stern. As the smaller ship came closer to Olympic she was caught up in the suction effect, caused by the passage of the huge White Star vessel’s hull moving through the water, and was drawn inexorably into her side. By way of explanation for the accident, Commander Blunt later said that his helmsman had turned the ship’s wheel the wrong way and before the mistake could be rectified the helm had jammed, which hardly supports the suction effect theory. Again according to Commander Blunt, immediately after the accident Hawke’s helm freed itself and was once more operating normally. The story is, of course, nonsense. Hawke’s steering gear, specifically designed so as not to jam, was operated by hydraulics, which cannot jam unless the pressure within the system fails. This can only happen if a pipe bursts, a seal fails, or the pump ceases to operate. If the system does not lose hydraulic pressure, mechanical failure of the steering gear will inevitably result because of the tremendous forces applied by the hydraulics. In any event the cruiser’s steering would have been useless until it had been properly repaired. It would certainly not be operating normally immediately after the collision, as Blunt claimed.
Hawke’s bow was badly distorted and torn in the collision and the iron ram that formed part of it had been completely torn off, or so the Navy claimed. However, although somewhat mauled, Hawke was able to make her way slowly into dock at Portsmouth, unaided.
Olympic had not fared so well. She had a huge hole in her side. Two of her aft compartments were flooded. She was down by the stern, and her starboard main and centrally mounted turbine engines were out of commission. She was goin
g nowhere very quickly in the immediate future.
Olympic, although badly damaged, was in no danger of sinking, so she was brought to a standstill and the anchor was dropped. While a quick assessment of the damage was made, Captain Smith cut off all passenger communication with the outside world. Nobody was allowed to send wireless messages or to leave the ship. With his vessel now drawing rather more water than she had previously, Smith was obliged to wait until the following day and a favourable tide before Olympic could return to Southampton for a more detailed inspection. However, it was immediately apparent that the liner was too badly injured to continue her journey to America.
In the evening the Southampton & Isle of Wight Company’s passenger steamer Duchess of York took off about 100 of Olympic’s passengers who wanted to go to London, and took them to Southampton. Mr Phillip C. Curry of the White Star Line was among them. He said that the rest of the passengers were quite happy about remaining aboard the damaged liner.
The following day Olympic, assisted by tugs, managed to make her way back to Southampton and the Harland & Wolff repair yard, where a proper assessment of the injury could be made, and the crew released. The visible damage to the ship above the waterline was impressive but was as nothing compared to that below. Hawke’s armoured bow, which had struck the liner about 85 feet from her stern, had smashed a huge hourglass-shaped hole more then 25 feet high and 10 feet wide. The ram had penetrated far enough into Olympic to bend her starboard propeller shaft and fracture the crankshaft of the engine. The cruiser had also damaged all three blades of the starboard propeller, as she had disinterred her bow from the liner’s vitals. For some reason never given, the collision had made the turbine engine, situated on Olympic’s centre line immediately above her keel, inoperable as well.
The Great Titanic Conspiracy Page 7