For What Its Worth - Keyes
---For Whats Its Worth - Part 5/5
June 10th 1915 c 21:30 London
It was still light, though only barely, when the wheezing motor vehicle
dropped him off by the gates.
"You need to have the engine looked at" Keyes advised as he
stepped down to the ground.
"Yes sir", the driver acknowledged, his eyes upon the naval
officer's uniform, as if trying to figure out what rank the markings on
the sleeve signified.
Keyes nodded sharply and turned to make his way into the Admiralty. Two
Royal Marines snapped to attention as he approached the door. Keyes frowned,
noticing that both were carrying rifles. Clearly they served more than
a ceremonial purpose.
"By order of the First Lord, sir" one of the men explained,
"In case of saboteurs or German spies."
In order to reassure the public, morelike, Keyes thought as he was let
in. He had noticed a lot of unease since alighting from the Kestrel, the
destroyer sent to convey him from Calais. Something had changed; people
no longer felt so secure. It was worse than before the Battle of the Marne;
this time people knew that something they had taken for granted was no
longer so. Britannia no longer ruled the waves; it merely contested them.
He nodded to another Royal Marine on duty before the ante-room. A further
precaution? Maybe there really was a security risk, though he could hardly
credit it.
As he passed into the room beyond a distinguished-looking, immaculately
dressed man in his late middle age was just exiting the First Lord's office.
Keyes recognised him at once; his picture had been in that day's Times,
part of a two-page article on Lloyd George's new Ministry of Munitions
of War.
"Lord Moulton" he greeted the man.
"Ah Commodore" the aristocratic head of the Committee on High
Explosives looked up from a sheaf of papers in his hands, "It is
bad." he said starkly, "Very bad."
"The losses" Keyes hazarded.
"The expenditure of shells !" the older man replied brusquely,
"Only the losses make it possible to restock each ship and maintain
a reserve."
"It is that bad?" Keyes was surprised, though only mildly.
The Shell Crisis, it appeared, was common knowledge to the meanest worker
riding on the train. That and the new government had been the main topic
of conversation around him on the train up from Chatham.
Before Lord Moulton could begin the detailed reply he was forming, a
man entered at a trot, ran past and entered the office beyond.
"Telegraph officer?" Keyes made an informed guess.
"The Germans are up to something" said Lord Moulton.
Whether it was spoken from knowledge or from informed intuition Keyes
did not get a chance to find out. As he made to ask an aide appeared in
the doorway to the office.
"Commodore Keyes, their Lordships will see you now."
He turned, nodded a farewell to the harassed aristocrat and entered the room beyond.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Edward Carson was sat in a stiff-backed wooden chair before his desk.
To his rear, sixty-something years old Admiral Callaghan, the new First
Sea Lord , stood behind the other of the two desks in the room, studying
the topmost of a pile of documents upon the surface.
Roger Keyes stood upon the expanse of carpet waiting. Carson, the new
First Lord of the Admiralty since the previous day (though rumours were
it had been decided on a week ago) looked him up and down, cold steel
in his eyes.
"You had a satisfactory journey, Commodore?" he asked, his
Ulster accent strong and proud.
Keyes saw no point in going into details. The delay in Paris had been
frustrating, but the visit to the British Embassy had primed him better
for this meeting than anything else could have done.
"Quite satisfactory sir" he replied.
Carson nodded stiffly,
"Good" he cut straight to the point, "Commodore, you have
been recalled to command the newly-reformed 3rd Battle Squadron. Your
flagship will be HMS Bellerophon."
"Your predecessor has been instructed to report to London"
Callaghan offered from behind the desk, still standing, still engrossed
in paperwork. "He stands relieved" Carson said more harshly,
his cold eyes glittering with purpose.
"I understand sir" Keyes assured him, "I will head for
Scapa immediately."
"Good", Carson continued to meet his eyes. "Commodore",
he said after the smallest of pauses, "It is vital that the British
Empire is able to rely on those that have our destiny in their hands."
"The Grand Fleet must NOT be defeated again." Callaghan all
but growled from behind his desk.
As admiral of the Home Fleet before the war he had expected to command
in August 1914 should the situation degenerate into war, but Churchill
and Battenberg had 'retired' him, putting in place their favoured protégé,
Jellicoe. And where had that got them? Defeat at Coronel, defeat at Dogger
Bank, and in the only fleet action of the war so far disastrous defeat
off the Danish coast - Jutland or Skaggerak, it did not matter what the
battle was called, the result was still the same.
"I will not let you down." Keyes assured them.
For an awkward moment there was silence, then the Commodore broke it
by speaking again,
"If I may ask, who will command the fleet?"
"You will find him a good superior" Carson said cryptically,
his face expressionless, "Admiral John De Robeck received instructions
to make haste for London yesterday."
"De Robeck?" Keyes was surprised, too much to let the normal
inclination to shroud his opinions prevail.
Carson almost smiled - almost, but not quite.
"Until his arrival, Admiral Burney will be in command of the fleet,
flying his flag on HMS Marlborough. Upon hi arrival Admiral De Robeck
will hoist his flag in the Benbow."
"In five days?" Keyes hazarded a guess.
"About that, yes" Callaghan answered him, looking up from behind
the desk where he stood, "We have every confidence in Admiral De
Robeck despite the . . . misfortunes at the Dardanelles."
"I too have every confidence" Keyes offered.
"Of course" Carson's eyes almost showed a certain degree of
amusement, "You should find working with him a happy proposal in
your new position."
Keyes skipped nimbly over the implied question, asking instead. "Is
there anything further, your Lordships? If I am to leave for Scapa tonight
…"
"Just one thing" Callaghan appeared to be eyeing his uniform
with distaste, at least judging by the look on his face.
"You will be needing a new uniform upon your arrival" Carson
explained.
Before Keyes could find a reply the First Sea Lord cracked a half smile
from behind the desk,
"You will receive the temporary promotion to Acting Rear Admiral
from the officer commanding at Scapa Flow."
"I see, sir" Keyes let out a breath he had not known he was
holding in, "Thank you sir"
"You had better be leaving now" Carson broke into his thoughts,
"There is a train from Kings Cross at half past ten. Be on it."
"Yes sir" Keyes saluted, taking the instruction for the dismissal
it was. As he wheeled to leave, his eyes took in the time upon the grandmother
clock above the fireplace. It was five minutes to ten ; he would have
to hurry if he was to get across the centre of London in time to catch
the train.
By Jon' N. Davies
