eship to bless
himself with. It's then that the true struggle will set in; and it's
then that anything that will float will be pressed into the service,
and anybody who can steer a boat, knows his waters, and doesn't care
the toss of a coin for his life, will have magnificent opportunities.
It cuts both ways. What small boats can do in these waters is plain
enough; but take our own case. Say we're beaten on the high seas by a
coalition. There's then a risk of starvation or invasion. It's all
rot what they talk about instant surrender. We can live on half
rations, recuperate, and build; but we must have time. Meanwhile our
coast and ports are in danger, for the millions we sink in forts and
mines won't carry us far. They're fixed--pure passive defence. What
you want is _boats_--mosquitoes with stings--swarms of
them--patrol-boats, scout-boats, torpedo-boats; intelligent
irregulars manned by local men, with a pretty free hand to play their
own game. And what a splendid game to play! There are places very
like this over there--nothing half so good, but similar--the Mersey
estuary, the Dee, the Severn, the Wash, and, best of all, the Thames,
with all the Kent, Essex, and Suffolk banks round it. But as for
defending our coasts in the way I mean--we've nothing ready--nothing
whatsoever! We don't even build or use small torpedo-boats. These
fast "destroyers" are no good for _this_ work--too long and
unmanageable, and most of them too deep. What you want is something
strong and simple, of light draught, and with only a spar-torpedo, if
it came to that. Tugs, launches, small yachts--anything would do at a
pinch, for success would depend on intelligence, not on brute force
or complicated mechanism. They'd get wiped out often, but what
matter? There'd be no lack of the right sort of men for them if the
thing was _organized._ But where are the men?

'Or, suppose we have the best of it on the high seas, and have to
attack or blockade a coast like this, which is sand from end to end.
You can't improvise people who are at home in such waters. The navy
chaps don't learn it, though, by Jove! they're the most magnificent
service in the world--in pluck, and nerve, and everything else.
They'll _try_ anything, and often do the impossible. But their boats
are deep, and they get little practice in this sort of thing.'

Davies never pushed home his argument here; but I know that it was
the passionate wish of his heart, somehow and somewhere,