Falklands, Jutland And The Bight [Illustrated Edition] by Barry Bingham

Author:Barry Bingham [Bingham, Barry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pickle Partners Publishing
Published: 2014-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER VIII — “HORNET” AND THE FIRST FLOTILLA.

WITH their usual candour their Lordships at the Admiralty informed me that not only were none of the latest M-class destroyers available at that moment, but that there was no chance of their being ready for some weeks; and then, with a delightfully human touch, they recommended a little leave, to be devoted to fox-hunting. More wholesome advice was never given, and the prospect of spending a few weeks with friends and relations in a hunting centre much patronized by Oxford undergraduates was brilliant to one who had worked off the initial stages of stiffness in a few days with the Marques de Marzala’s—I had almost written “with Senor Pablo Larios’”—sporting pack.

A week with the Heythrop passed all too happily and all too quickly; and I must own that, seated in a 40 h.p. Daimler on the way to a meet, and carelessly turning over the pages of the Morning Post, I read, not without mixed feelings, my own name followed by the apparently cryptic phrase—”To Woolwich for Hornet.” In plain English, I had been given command of the destroyer Hornet, herself attached to the parent ship Woolwich. This seemed like an end to all dreams of further exploits in the hunting field, and there was no alternative but to pack up and return to the Admiralty in quest of information.

They told me that the Hornet was a fine ocean-going destroyer of 850 tons, belonging to the 1st Flotilla based at Harwich; and further that my appointment carried with it not only the command of the ship, but also that of a division of four destroyers of which the Hornet was the leader. Seeing that the 1st Flotilla was then one of the crack flotillas, I was reminded that in dropping into such a good command I was extremely fortunate At the risk of exposing myself to the charge of ingratitude, I ventured to enquire after the progress of the forthcoming M-class destroyers now building. “In a few months,” was the reply, “all flotillas belonging to the Grand Fleet and battle-cruisers will be comprised solely of M-class boats.” But the term “few months” was employed with an elasticity unusual even in official assurances. In truth, it was a full fifteen months before I found myself in command of the Nestor.

Learning that the Hornet was then lying at Harwich, I made the two hours’ journey and arrived on board in time to take over command after lunch on Friday, February 12th, 1915.

A cursory examination showed that the Hornet was an excellent craft of her class. With an armament of two 4-in. guns, two 12-pounders, and two 21-in. torpedo tubes, she had Parsons turbines, which, although now between four and five years old, were as good as ever and gave her a speed of 27 knots. Her fuel was entirely oil, of which 170 tons were carried. It was my first experience of this fuel; and, coming fresh from. the nightmares of coal-burning ships, I

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