This meeting between the two men was fortunate for the Junior Officer. Fisher at once marked down Jellicoe as useful, and so, a few years later, when he was Director of Naval Ordnance at the Admiralty, it came to pass that Jellicoe joined Fisher there as his Assistant.
It was just subsequent to this appointment when Jellicoe was, we believe, serving as first lieutenant on board the Sans Pareil, that the German Emperor during the Naval Review put in an appearance with the powerful vessels of his new and comparatively small Navy. Needless to say, both the Kaiser and his officers, together with their ships, were of the greatest interest to our men.
When the Review was over numerous were the discussions and fierce the arguments which centred around William the Second and his little fleet. Everyone present from Junior to Senior had something to say, some criticism to make.
Everyone except Lieutenant John Jellicoe. He kept his mouth shut and his eyes open, and he expressed no opinion either on the Kaiser, his officers or his ships.
Jellicoe only spent about three years at the Admiralty as Fisher’s assistant, but it was quite enough for the authorities to realize that he was an efficient and clever officer—a man who knew how to organize. Captain Fisher found his services invaluable, and as an “assistant” Jellicoe served him faithfully.
Jellicoe would probably be the first to admit that during the comparatively short time he spent at the Admiralty under Fisher he accumulated a vast amount of knowledge. A friendship sprung up between the two men, born of respect. Both were enthusiasts; both loved the Service keenly. Both were ambitious—not for themselves. Neither sought personal aggrandizement. Their ambitions were noble. It was natural that both, later on, should meet with opposition. It was inevitable that the opposition should be overcome.
A greater contrast than the two men make—the “Little Admiral” and the “Big Admiral”—it would be difficult to find. Physically, Fisher is of the bulldog breed beloved of the public. The moment he enters a room you are conscious of his presence. “Jacky” Fisher exudes vitality; it surrounds him as a perfume surrounds a pretty woman. He carries it about with him. His figure is robust; he stands with feet wide apart and firmly planted. He is very straight up and down; his face is nearly the colour of mahogany; a large mouth, almost brutal until he smiles, when it becomes a veritable cavern of humour, and aggressive eyes that nevertheless shine and almost sparkle beneath big bushy brows; his hair is silver grey; his hands are titanic and generally hang loosely by his side, suggestive, and ready for action.
Physically, the difference between the two men is the difference between a small smooth-haired terrier and one of Major Richardson’s Irish police dogs. Mentally, there is not much difference, and events have proved that both possess the same instincts.
One is the Dreadnought instinct; another, the faith that in action you must “hit quickly, hit hard, and keep on hitting.” A third instinct might be called the instinct of Silence. They have never attempted to emulate Lord Charles Beresford or Sir Edward Carson in discharging fierce literary broadsides.
Jellicoe was gazetted a Commander in 1891; after leaving the Sans Pareil he was appointed to the Victoria, then one of our largest battleships, sister ship (though of later date) to the Camperdown. It was while he was her Commander that the accident happened during manœuvres off Tripoli, on the Syrian Coast.