The doubt which, since the Prime Minister's statement on the introduction of the Navy Estimates, has disturbed the public mind, is concerned almost exclusively with the number of modern battleships in the Royal Navy. The one object which the nation ought to have in view is victory in the next war, and the question never to be forgotten is, what is essential to victory? While it is probably true that if the disparity of numbers be too great a smaller fleet can hardly engage a larger one with any prospect of success, it is possible to exaggerate the importance both of numbers and of the size of ships.

The most decisive victories at sea which are on record were those of Tsusima, of Trafalgar, and of the Nile. At Tsusima the numbers and size of the Japanese Fleet were not such as, before the battle, to give foreign observers grounds for expecting a decisive victory by the Japanese. It was on the superior intellectual and moral qualities of the Japanese that those who expected them to win based their hopes, and this view was justified by the event. At the battle of Trafalgar the British Fleet numbered twenty-seven, the Franco-Spanish Fleet numbered thirty-three; at the battle of the Nile the numbers were equal—thirteen on each side. These figures seem to me sufficiently to prove that superior numbers are not in battle the indispensable condition of victory. They certainly prove that the numerically inferior fleet may very well win.

Writers on the art of war distinguish between tactics, the art of winning a battle, and strategy, the art of designing and conducting the whole of the operations which constitute a campaign, of bringing about battles in conditions favourable to one's own side and of making the best use of such victories as may be won for contributing to the general purpose of the war, which is dictating peace on one's own terms.

The decision of the questions, how many fleets to send out, what is to be the strength and composition of each of them, and what the objectives assigned to their several commanders is a strategical decision. It is a function of the strategist at the Board of Admiralty, but the question how to handle any one of these fleets in the presence of the enemy so as either to avoid or to bring about an action and so as to win the battle, if a battle be desirable, is a question for the admiral commanding the particular fleet.

Evidently the master art, because it dominates the whole war, is that of strategy, and for that reason it must have a seat at the Admiralty Board.

As is well known, a large number of naval officers have for several years past been troubled with doubts as to the strategical competence displayed by the Board or Boards of Admiralty since 1904. The Board of Admiralty has also been criticised for other reasons, into some of which it is not necessary to enter, but it is desirable to state precisely the considerations which tend to show that important decisions made by the Admiralty have not been based upon sound strategical principles, and are, indeed, incompatible with them.

When four or five years ago it was decided to transfer the centre of gravity of the navy, as represented by fleets in commission, from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic coasts of Europe, that was a sound decision. But when the principal fleet in commission in home waters was reduced in order to facilitate the creation of a so-called Home Fleet, made up of a number of ships stationed at different ports, and manned for the most part by nucleus crews, the Admiralty announced this measure in a very remarkable circular. The change clearly involved a reduction of the number of men at sea, and also a reduction in the number of ships which would be immediately available under war conditions. It was further evident that the chief result of this measure would be a reduction of expenditure, yet the circular boldly stated that the object of the measure was to increase the power and readiness of the navy for instant war.

In any case, the decision announced revealed an ignorance of one of the fundamental conditions of naval warfare, which differentiates it completely from operations on land. A ship in commission carries on board everything that is necessary for a fight. She can be made ready for battle in a few minutes on the order to clear for action. No other mobilisation is necessary for a fleet in commission, and if a war should break out suddenly, as wars normally always do break out, whichever side is able at once with its fleets already in commission to strike the first blow has the incalculable advantage of the initiative.

A fleet divided between several ports and not fully manned is not a fleet in commission; it is not ready, and its assembly as a fleet depends on a contingency, which there is no means of guaranteeing, that the enemy shall not be able to prevent its assembly by moving a fleet immediately to a point at sea from which it would be able to oppose by force the union of the constituent parts of the divided and unready fleet.

Later official descriptions of the Home Fleet explained that it was part of the Admiralty design that this fleet should offer the first resistance to an enemy. The most careful examination of these descriptions leaves no room for doubt that the idea of the Admiralty was that one of its fleets should, in case of war, form a sort of advance-guard to the rest of the navy. But it is a fundamental truth that in naval war an advance-guard is absurd and impossible. In the operations of armies, an advance-guard is both necessary and useful. Its function is to delay the enemy's army until such time as the commander-in-chief shall have assembled his own forces, which may be, to some extent, scattered on the march. This delay is always possible on land, because the troops can make use of the ground, that is, of the positions which it affords favourable for defence, and because by means of those positions a small force can for a long time hold in check the advance of a very much larger one. But at sea there are no positions except those formed by narrow straits, estuaries, and shoals, where land and sea are more or less mixed up. The open sea is a uniform surface offering no advantage whatever to either side. There is nothing in naval warfare resembling the defence of a position on land, and the whole difference between offence and defence at sea consists in the will of one side to bring on an action and that of the other side to avoid or postpone it.

At sea a small force which endeavours by fighting to delay the movement of a large force exposes itself to destruction without any corresponding gain of time. Accordingly, at sea, there is no analogy to the action of an advance-guard, and the mere fact that such an idea should find its way into the official accounts of the Admiralty's views regarding the opening move of a possible war must discredit the strategy of the Admiralty in the judgment of all who have paid any attention to the nature of naval war.

The second requisite for victory, that is, for winning a battle against a hostile fleet, is tactical superiority, or, as Nelson put it: "The skill of our admirals and the activity and spirit of our officers and seamen." The only way to obtain this is through the perpetual practice of the admirals commanding fleets. An admiral, in order to make himself a first-rate tactician, must not merely have deeply studied and pondered the subject, but must spend as much time as possible in exercising, as a whole, the fleet which he commands, in order not only by experimental manoeuvres thoroughly to satisfy himself as to the formation and mode of attack which will be best suited to any conceivable circumstance in which he may find himself, but also to inculcate his ideas into his subordinates; to inspire them with his own knowledge, and to give them that training in working together which, in all those kinds of activities which require large numbers of men to work together, whether on the cricket field, at football, in an army, or in a navy, constitutes the advantage of a practised over a scratch team.

If the practice is to make the fleet ready for war, it must be carried out with the fleet in its war composition. All the different elements, battleships, cruisers, torpedo craft, and the rest, must be fully represented, otherwise the admiral would be practising in peace with a different instrument from that with which he would need to operate in war.

The importance of this perpetual training ought to be self-evident. It may be well to remind the reader that it has also been historically proved. The great advantage which the British possessed over the French navy in the Wars of the Revolution and the Empire was that the British fleets were always at sea, whereas the French fleets, for years blockaded in their ports, were deficient in that practice which, in the naval as in all other professions, makes perfect. One of the complaints against the present Board of Admiralty is that it has not encouraged the training and exercise of fleets as complete units.

Another point, in regard to which the recent practice of the Admiralty is regarded with very grave doubts, not only by many naval officers, but also by many of those who, without being naval officers, take a serious interest in the navy, is that of naval construction. For several years the Admiralty neglected to build torpedo craft of the quality and in the quantity necessary for the most probable contingencies of war, while, at the same time, large sums of money were spent in building armoured cruisers, vessels of a fighting power so great that an admiral would hesitate to detach them from his fleet, lest he should be needlessly weakened on the day of battle, yet not strong enough safely to replace the battleships in the fighting line. The result has been that the admirals in command of fleets have for some time been anxiously asking to be better supplied with scouts or vessels of great speed, but not of such fighting power that they could not be spared at a distance from the fleet even on the eve of an action. These two defects in the shipbuilding policy of the Admiralty make it probable that for some years past the navy has not been constructed in accord with any fully thought-out design of operations; in other words, that the great object "victory" has been forgotten by the supreme authority.

The doubt whether victory has been borne in mind is confirmed by what is known of the design of the original Dreadnought. A battleship ought to be constructed for battle, that is, for the purpose of destroying the enemy's fleet, for which purpose it will never be used alone, but in conjunction with a number of ships like itself forming the weapon of an admiral in command. A battleship requires three qualities, in the following order of importance:—

First, offensive power. A fleet exists in order to destroy the enemy, but it has no prospect of performing that function if its power of destruction is less than its enemy's. The chief weapon to-day, as in the past, is artillery. Accordingly the first requisite of a fleet, as regards its material qualities, those produced by the constructor, is the capacity to pour on to the enemy's fleet a heavier rain of projectiles than he can return.

The second quality is the power of movement. The advantage of superior speed in a fleet—for the superior speed of an individual ship is of little importance—is that so long as it is preserved it enables the admiral, within limits, to accept or decline battle according to his own judgment. This is a great strategical advantage. It may in some conditions enable an inferior fleet to postpone an action which might be disastrous until it has effected a junction with another fleet belonging to its own side.

The third quality is that the ships of a fleet should be strong enough to offer to the enemy's projectiles a sufficient resistance to make it improbable that they can be sunk before having inflicted their fair share of damage on the adversary.

There is always a difficulty in combining these qualities in a given ship, because as a ship weighs the quantity of water which she displaces, a ship of any given size has its weight given, and the designer cannot exceed that limit of weight. He must divide it between guns with their ammunition, engines with their coal, and armour. Every ton given to armour diminishes the tonnage possible for guns and engines, and, given a minimum for armour, every extra ton given to engines and coal reduces the possible weight of guns and ammunition. In the Dreadnought a very great effort was made to obtain a considerable extra speed over that of all other battleships. This extra speed was defended on the ground that it would enable a fleet of Dreadnoughts to fight a battle at long range, and with a view to such battle the Dreadnought was provided only with guns of the heaviest calibre and deprived of those guns of medium calibre with which earlier battleships were well provided. The theories thus embodied in the new class of ships were both of them doubtful, and even dangerous. In the first place, it is in the highest degree injurious to the spirit and courage of the crew to have a ship which they know will be at a disadvantage if brought into close proximity with the enemy. Their great object ought to be to get as near to the enemy as possible. The hypothesis that more damage will be done by an armament exclusively of the largest guns is in the opinion of many of the best judges likely to be refuted. There is some reason to believe that a given tonnage, if devoted to guns of medium calibre, would yield a very much greater total damage to an enemy's ship than if devoted to a smaller number of guns of heavy calibre and firing much less rapidly.

There is, moreover, a widespread belief among naval officers of the highest repute, among whom may be named the author of the "Influence of Sea Power upon History," than whom no one has thought more profoundly on the subject of naval war, that it is bad economy to concentrate in a few very large ships the power which might be more conveniently and effectively employed if distributed in a great number of ships of more moderate size.

Surely, so long as naval opinion is divided about the tactical and strategical wisdom of a new type of battleship, it is rash to continue building battleships exclusively of that type, and it would be more reasonable to make an attempt to have naval opinion sifted and clarified, and thus to have a secure basis for a shipbuilding programme, than to hurry on an enormous expenditure upon what may after all prove to have been a series of doubtful experiments.

All the questions above discussed seem to me to be more important than that of mere numbers of ships. Numbers are, however, of great importance in their proper place and for the proper reasons. The policy adopted and carried out by the British navy, at any rate during the latter half of the war against the French Empire, was based on a known superiority of force. The British fleet set out by blockading all the French fleets, that is, by taking stations near to the great French harbours and there observing those harbours, so that no French fleet should escape without being attacked. If this is to be the policy of the British navy in future it will require a preponderance of force of every kind over that of the enemy, and that preponderant force will have to be fully employed from the very first day of the war. In other words, it must be kept in commission during peace. But, in addition, it is always desirable to have a reserve of strength to meet the possibility that the opening of a war or one of its early subsequent stages may bring into action some additional unexpected adversary. There are thus two reasons that make for a fleet of great numerical strength. The first, that only great superiority renders possible the strategy known as blockade, or, as I have ventured to call it, of "shadowing" the whole of the enemy's forces. The second, that only great numerical strength renders it possible to provide a reserve against unexpected contingencies.