In the Fleet under my command, the drills and exercises were particularly onerous; for it was a rule never to go to sea or to steam from port to port without practising some exercise or tactical problem. For every pound's worth of coal burnt, a pound's worth of training. Officers and men delighted in these exercises; and all (including the commander-in-chief) learned something from them.
In July, 1903, the Channel Fleet assembled at Spithead to welcome the United States Squadron, consisting of the Kearsage, flag of Admiral Cotton, Chicago, San Francisco and Machias. The American officers were entertained to lunch by the Pilgrims' Society, and it fell to me to propose the United States Navy, Admiral Cotton responding. H.R.H. the Prince of Wales accepted an invitation to breakfast on board the American flagship.
In August took place the combined manoeuvres of the Channel, Home and Mediterranean Fleets; at their conclusion, the Fleets met in Lagos Bay for tactical exercises; 25 battleships, 42 cruisers, and gunboats and destroyers under the supreme command of Admiral Sir Compton E. Domville, G.C.V.O., K.C.B.
Colonel Robert M. Thompson was a welcome guest of mine at this time, and subsequently in all the ships in which I flew my flag. Colonel Thompson afterwards published some observations upon the manoeuvres in the Evening Post, U.S.A., from the point of view of an American officer who began his career in the United States Navy.
"When the three Fleets participating in those manceuvres were combined, there were 72 battleships and cruisers, with nearly 40,000 men, all under the command of one admiral; probably the strongest Fleet ever brought together in the history of the world. This enormous assemblage of vessels was handled without a single break. When the entire 72 ran to anchor in eight lines, had there been a straight-edge placed in front of them it would not have shown a ship, it seems to me, a foot out of position. They made a 'flying moor,' and when you consider that in point of time, at the speed the ships were going, they were only one minute apart, every seaman will appreciate how wonderfully they must have been handled."
Colonel Thompson very kindly presented a challenge shield for the best gun in the flagship of the Channel Fleet (afterwards Atlantic Fleet), to be inscribed with the names of the crew of the best gun at the annual gunlayers' competition; and at the same time generously placed in trust a sum of money the interest of which, amounting to £10 a year, was to be presented to the winning gun's crew. The record for the Cæsar while my flag was flown in that vessel was 18 hits out of 21 rounds in two minutes.
In September, 1903, the Fleet visited Scarborough; in pursuance of the principle that to afford the public opportunities for seeing the Fleet and for making acquaintance with the ships, arouses and maintains a healthy interest in the Service. Upon this occasion, I invited my old constituents at York to visit the Fleet. They came in thousands; but sad to say, the weather was so bad that they could not leave the shore.
When the Fleet was visiting Ireland, a certain worthy character, very well known in Kingstown, Dublin, whose chosen occupation is—or was—selling newspapers, came to me, as his countryman, on board the Majestic, to his intense excitement.
"Glory to God, Lord Char-less," he screamed, "is that yourself in the gold hat!" And he shrieked like a macaw, so that the men began to crowd on deck to see what was the matter. I had to tell him to pipe down, or they would turn the fire-engine on him.
The story of the accident to the Prince George and its repair serves to illustrate the emergencies of sea life. The Channel Fleet was engaged in manoeuvres without lights off Cape Finisterre, on the night of 17th October, 1903. Two midshipmen of the Prince George were relaxing their minds after the strain of the day's work with a hand at cards, when the game was interrupted by the entrance into the gun-room of the stem of the Hannibal, before which apparition the young gentlemen incontinently fled.