The Ballycotton Job E-Book

Tom Mahon

• Herausgeber: Mercier Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 319

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

A 'sensational affair.. carried out with great audacity' - New York Times. An astonishing act of piracy, the capture of the British war ship, the Upnor changed the course of Ireland's Civil War. Flawless in its planning and execution, while Winston Churchill remarked on Irish 'genius for conspiracy', a furious Michael Collins accused the British of deliberately arming his enemies. Indeed, it's highly likely that the bullet that killed him originated in the Upnor. The Ballycotton Job brings this riveting story to life, its cast of disparate characters and strands of adventure beautifully woven together. This book sees events leading up to the capture as well as the consequences of the Upnor seizure discussed in detail. Based on years of archival research, it tells a unique story of both sides, Irish and British. The book's fast-paced narrative is enlivened by dialogue and details obtained from interviews with participants. Ireland teetered on the verge of civil war, the IRA splitting into anti-Treaty and pro-Treaty stance, Michael Collins and the Provisional Government on the pro-Treaty side. Cork's Sean O'Hegarty, the local anti-Treaty IRA leader, prevented Collins' National Army from entering the city. As the British evacuated soldiers and equipment back to England, O'Hegarty came up with a brilliant plan to capture the munitions en route. Commandeering a tugboat from the Royal Navy base at Queenstown/Cobh, they sped out of the fortified harbour on a mission. Simultaneously, over eighty trucks and lorries were hijacked all across Cork, leaving citizens mystified as to what was going on. In a clever ruse, the IRA squad captured arms ship Upnor, bringing it into the small port of Ballycotton. The village, now under the control of IRA fighters, witnessed the unloading of weaponry onto waiting lorries then driven off to secret arms dumps throughout Cork. O'Hegarty's men seized eighty tons of arms, subsequently distributed to southern IRA divisions during the Civil War. This audacious act of piracy caused a sensation. A field day for the newspapers, The Irish Independent called it 'an amazing exploit'; The Times 'a clever and daring coup'.

Leseprobe

Ireland and Britain

Dedication

For Sui Lan and Tommy

MERCIER PRESS

3B Oak House, Bessboro Rd

Blackrock, Cork, Ireland.

www.mercierpress.ie

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Cover design: Sarah O’Flaherty

© Tom Mahon, 2022

ISBN 978-1-78117-443-2

ISBN 978-1-78117-444-9 E Book

This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Acknowledgments

Researching and writing this book has been a most enjoyable marathon, over the course of which I’ve visited numerous archives and historical sites. The project came together one piece at a time until I ended up uncovering far more information than I ever expected. One thing that I can attest to is that truth is indeed stranger than fiction.

I’ve endeavoured not just to tell a fascinating adventure story, but also to peel away the layers that obscure the under- lying characters, to look at the nature of violence and prejudice, to cast light on the subjectivity of views on morality and justice and to consider the difficulty of distinguishing perpetrators from victims and vice versa. Where possible I’ve given the full name of fatalities, even if their deaths are only mentioned in passing, in order to commemorate their lives and the tragedy of their deaths. Colonialism and the attitudes associated with it play an important role in this narrative and likewise I believe they were significant factors in the War of Independence that remain under-appreciated to this day.

I’m deeply indebted to countless archivists, librarians, local historians and experts. To all of those whom I’ve in- advertently failed to acknowledge, I sincerely apologise.

I’m especially grateful to two outstanding historians for sharing their knowledge, insights and time: Dr John Borgonovo of University College Cork and Prof. Peter Hoffenberg of the University of Hawaii.

I was delighted to be able to make contact with the descendants of some of the participants. It’s been a pleasure meeting Len Williams, grandson and namesake of the captain of the Warrior. I’m grateful to Len for sharing a trove of documentation and images about his grandfather, a brave and skilful tugboat captain who saved scores of lives during the First World War.

This story would never have occurred were it not for the brilliant Captain Jeremiah Collins – a true Irish patriot – and so it was terrific to hear from his great-great granddaughter Rachel Wheeler and her mother Noreen Kinney. I appreciate being able to look at their fabulous collection of photographs and newspaper clippings.

I was fortunate to correspond with Bob Long and David Kerr, two experts on historic tugboats. Len and I visited the Challenge, a restored steam tugboat in Southampton, where we spent the day with David. This was one of the highlights of my research. The Challenge is a beautiful vessel (similar to the Warrior); you can learn more about her and support her preservation at stchallenge.org. Thank you David and Bob for your great work.

I’d also like to thank the following.

UCD Archives – especially Seamus Helferty (retired), principal archivist Kate Manning and Selina Collard. The A-Team at Cork Archives Institute, Brian McGee archivist and Michael and Peter. Commandant Victor Lange (retired) and the staff at the Military Archives, Dublin. Mary Horgan, Gerry Desmond and John Mullins of Cork City Library. Dan Breen curator of Cork Public Museum. A special thanks to the staff at the National Archives in Kew including Michael from Dublin.

Stuart McMahon, of the website Clyde Maritime, an excellent resource for the history of shipping on the Clyde and to Colin Campbell. Terence Smith of rifleman.org.uk who sent me information about historical military ammunition. Chris White of Historical RFA (Royal Fleet Auxiliary) website, who sent me his essay on the capture of the Upnor along with important archival documents. Noreen Brennan, Michael Martin and Aidan Murphy of Met Éireann. Christine Fernon, online manager of the Australian Dictionary of Biography. Dr Lynsey Robertson of the Churchill Archives Centre.

Aidan O’Sullivan, Niall Murray and Deirdre Bourke of the Kilmurry Historical and Archaeological Association.

Local historians John Hennessey and Mike Deane shared their extensive knowledge on Cobh/Queenstown in 1922. Kieran McCarthy, author of Republican Cobh and the East Cork Volunteers, the preeminent expert on the history of the Cobh IRA. Many thanks to the sisters of Saint Benedict’s, Cobh who let me visit their priory, which was once Admiralty House; thank you for your gracious hospitality. Yvonne Allen curator at Cobh Museum. Mary O’Donovan and Stan Reynolds in Cobh. Tom O’Neill historian and author of The Battle of Clonmult. James Cronin of the beautiful Gregans Castle Hotel, where Louise Gaunt’s family was from. Fr Richard Flanagan in Ballyvaughan.

Thanks to John Stratton in Waterford and Miriam McSweeney of the Galway-Mayo Institute of Technology. My sister Anne in Heidelberg and Paul Kuramoto and Michael Flumian in Honolulu. Tommy Mahon – a poet and scholar – who edited some of the chapters. As always thanks to Mary Feehan and her team at Mercier.

The maps were created by the multi-talented Charlie Roche of MobileGIS Ltd. A geographer, researcher and cartographer Charlie has previously contributed to the stunning Atlas of the Great Irish Famine and Atlas of the Irish Revolution (both published by Cork University Press).

This book was written with fond memories of the wonderful Crofts family: Dominic and Deirdre, Helen and my mother Mary as well as Tom and Ellen. My grandfather Tom was one of the team that seized the Upnor.

Tom Mahon, Honolulu, 2022

Glossary

Anglo-Irish Treaty:Treaty negotiated between repre­sen- tatives of the British and Dáil cabinets in December 1921. It led to self-rule with the establishment of the Irish Free State.

Anti-Treaty IRA: IRA units that opposed the Treaty. Also referred to as ‘republicans’ and ‘irregulars’ (by the Free State).

Auxiliaries: The Auxiliary Division of the RIC, known as Auxies. Frequently and incorrectly referred to as Black and Tans. A heavily armed paramilitary force comprising ex-British army officers that was operationally indepen- dent of the RIC. Though prone to unauthorised reprisals, it posed a formidable threat to the IRA.

Black and Tans: Colloquial term for members of the RIC recruited from ex-soldiers in Britain. They had a repu- tation for indiscipline, drunkenness and brutality.

Brigade: A key organisational unit of the IRA, comprising a thousand or more volunteers. Cork had three brigades throughout much of the War of Independence.

Cork: The largest Irish county as well as the name of the principal city in the south. In the War of Indepen- dence, it witnessed the heaviest fighting and the most casualties. During the Civil War, it was a stronghold of the anti-Treaty IRA.

Cork No. 1 Brigade: One of the IRA’s largest and most effective units. Its area of operations included the city and a large swath of the countryside, extending from Youghal in the east to Ballyvourney in the west. Seán O’Hegarty assumed command in the autumn of 1920.

Dáil: Independent and initially clandestine Irish parliament formed in Dublin in January 1919 by members of Sinn Féin, who were originally elected to the House of Commons in London. It became the legislature for the Free State. The Dáil elected its own separatist cabinet.

Devonport: A district of Plymouth and the site of the Royal Navy dockyards, one of the navy’s largest and most important facilities.

Easter Rising: Abortive Irish insurrection in Dublin in 1916 led by the Irish Volunteers and the IRB. It was a military failure, but it spurred the reorganisation of the Volunteers and the War of Independence.

Flying Column:IRA unit composed of full-time volunteers on the run. Columns were mainly based in the countryside, and tended to be well-armed and mobile.

GHQ: General Headquarters. The secret IRA headquarters in Dublin. Nominally under the command of Risteárd Mulcahy, but in effect led by Michael Collins.

Great War: In its aftermaththe FirstWorld War was com- monly referred to as the Great War both in Britain and Ireland.

Hegarty’s Crowd: Also known as the ‘irregulars’ or the ‘active squad’. A small group of fighters within Cork No. 1 Brigade, who were members of the IRB and were per- sonally loyal to Seán O’Hegarty.They were responsible for much of the ambushes and shootings in the city.

Home Rule: A limited degree of self-government for Ireland, which was supported by moderate Irish nationalists and the Liberal Party in Great Britain.

IRA: Irish Republican Army. Force committed to fighting for an independent republic and ostensibly allegiant to the Dáil. Members often called themselves ‘volunteers’ while the British frequently called them ‘Shinners’.

IRB: Irish Republican Brotherhood, popularly known as the Fenian movement. Secretive revolutionary group that maintained considerable influence over the IRA and Sinn Féin.

Irish Civil War: Conflict between the anti-Treaty IRA and the pro-Treaty National Army from June 1922 to May 1923. Resulted in a victory of the National Army for the Free State.

Irish Free State: Self-governing state established after the Anglo-Irish Treaty; it was officially inaugurated in December 1922. Ireland (with the exception of six counties in the north-east) achieved a degree of inde- pendence equivalent to a dominion, but short of a fully sovereign republic.

Irish Volunteers: Nationalist militia formed in 1913 and together with the IRB responsible for the Easter Rising of 1916. By 1919, it became known as the IRA.

Loyalist: Person loyal to the British crown and the union of Britain and Ireland. Loyalists formed a majority in the north-east, but were in an overall minority on the island.

National Army: From early 1922 the pro-Treaty IRA began to be known as the National Army, with Michael Collins as commander-in-chief.

OC: Officer commanding.

Provisional Government: A transitional Irish adminis- tration formed by pro-Treaty members of Sinn Féin in January 1922 with Michael Collins as chairman. It lasted until the official establishment of the Free State in December 1922.

Pro-Treaty IRA:IRA units, which supported Michael Collins and the Treaty. Reorganised as the National Army.

Queenstown: The principal port in Cork harbour, it was renamed Cobh during the War of Independence, though the former name persisted for several years. Headquarters of the Royal Navy in Ireland, as well as the leading port in Ireland for transatlantic shipping.

RIC: Royal Irish Constabulary. Armed police force. Initi- ally composed of Irish constables, but having come close to collapse during the War of Independence it was reinforced with British recruits in 1920.

Sinn Féin: Irish nationalist party founded in 1905. In the aftermath of the 1916 Easter Rising, it became the leading separatist party and political partner of the IRA.

Troubles: Euphemistic term for the War of Independence.

Truce: Agreement between representatives of the Dáil cabinet and the British commander-in-chief in Ireland, Gen. Macready, resulting in an armistice on 11 July 1921 in the War of Independence.

Unionist: Synonymous with ‘loyalist’.

War of Independence: 1919 to 1921. War between the IRA and the British army and the RIC.

Key Characters

Tom Barry:Leader of the IRA’s West Cork flying column. He was a well-known, arrogant and brilliant guerrilla fighter who led the Kilmichael ambush of December 1920, which annihilated an Auxiliary patrol of eighteen officers.

Winston Churchill: As Secretary of State for War (1919 to 1921) and for the Colonies (1921 to 1922) he was the senior British cabinet minister most involved with Irish affairs.

Jeremiah Collins: Cork merchant and ship’s captain, who smuggled weapons and sheltered fugitives for the IRA. A supporter of the Free State, he regarded the anti-Treaty IRA as too extreme.

Michael Collins: Director of Intelligence of the IRA, Pre- sident of the IRB and Minister of Finance in the Dáil government. He was chief of the IRA during the War of Independence and following the Treaty became chair- man of the pro-Treaty Provisional Government and commander-in-chief of the National Army.

Admiral Sir Ernest Gaunt:Commander of the Royal Navy in Ireland and based in Queenstown.

David Lloyd George: British Prime Minister, 1916–1922.

Gen. Sir Nevil Macready: General Officer Commanding in Chief of the British Army in Ireland.

Risteárd Mulcahy:Chief of Staff of the IRA and Collins’ principal deputy.

Seán O’Hegarty: Commander of Cork No. 1 Brigade, known for his bravery and ruthlessness. He became a prominent leader of the anti-Treaty IRA.

Dan ‘Sandow’ O’Donovan: One of O’Hegarty’s key officers.

Gen. Sir Peter Strickland: Officer Commanding the 6thDivision. In charge of the British army in southern Ireland, with his headquarters at Victoria Barracks in Cork city.

Dialogue

The vast majority of the dialogue is based on primary sources such as interviews and statements by the characters themselves. In the immediate aftermath of the operation the Royal Navy questioned the crews of the Upnor and the Warrior, while members of the IRA were later interviewed by their comrade Ernie O’Malley, made statements to the Bureau of Military History in Dublin, and or talked to newspaper journalists and historians. I have accessed all these records. For further details, see Notes and References, p. 231.

In a small number of situations, I’ve inserted dialogue based on statements, phrases and words associated with the participants in other situations. For instance in the section where Seán O’Hegarty talked about the plan to seize the Upnor to his brigade officers, I took phrases from Bureau of Military History witness statements that he used when sending volunteers out on a dangerous mission as well as observations from one of his comrades, Frank Busteed.

The only sections where there has been limited recon- struction of dialogue are as follows: O’Hegarty talking to his officers about the plan, Sandow O’Donovan and Captain Collins during the kidnapping, O’Hegarty seeing Sandow and Mick Murphy off from Cork, Sandow’s interaction with Mick Burke at the Deepwater Quay, Sandow talking to John Duhig, Duhig’s men talking to the cook, Jeremiah Collins talking to Sandow about the ship’s whistle, Sandow, Mick Murphy and Jeremiah Collins conferring about the search for the Upnor and Sandow talking to Collins on the bridge of the Warrior before entering Ballycotton.

One minor caveat is that most of the fighters – especially O’Hegarty, Sandow and Jim Gray – were well known for their use of profanities, which were usually expunged from later statements and memoirs. Florence O’Donoghue remarked on ‘O’Hegarty’s vigorous and comprehensive command of bad language and I had yet to meet anyone who could excel him when he was thoroughly roused’.

Weights and measurements

I have adhered to the metric system for weights and measure- ments, except when they’re included in a contemporary quote or used to classify weaponry, e.g. the three-pounder gun on the Upnor:

Cork Harbour and surroundings

1

Medusa’s Return

Of the many harbours and bays along the southern coast of Ireland, Cork Harbour is by far the largest and the most scenic. In fact, after Sydney Harbour, it’s the largest harbour in the world. The American consul at Queenstown also called it the most beautiful. But aside from its enormous size and natural beauty, it is of great historic and strategic importance.

In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, it was the Royal Navy’s headquarters in Ireland and a major dockyard and victualling centre for vessels setting out for all corners of the world. During the First World War, a massive fleet of up to thirty-nine American destroyers to- gether with the Royal Navy’s warships was based there; entrusted with protecting the vital transatlantic convoys from German submarines lurking in the waters off the Irish coast. In addition Cork was a major port for both merchant and passenger vessels, including those that brought two and a half million impoverished Irish to America in the one hundred years following the Great Famine (1845–49).

Queenstown (now known as Cobh) was its principal deep-water port. It lay seven kilometres opposite the narrow harbour entrance, whereas Cork city was a further thirteen kilometres up-channel to the north-west. The town was built on a steep slope overlooking the water and at the top of the hill was a colonial style mansion, with a large balcony facing out over the ocean. This was Admiralty House, the home of the resident British admiral and his family.

During the turbulent years of the War of Independence and the birth of the Irish Free State Admiral Sir Ernest Gaunt was the naval commander in Queenstown. Follow- ing the ratification of the Anglo-Irish Treaty in January 1922, his duties abruptly changed from overseeing naval operations to dismantling most of the navy’s bases in Ireland and supervising the army’s evacuation. By late March, he had been working for weeks without a break and the strain was beginning to show. Like the other senior British commanders, he was thoroughly sick of Ireland. He regarded the Treaty as a capitulation to the IRA and was looking forward to leaving the God forsaken place. Let the Irish fight it out amongst themselves, to hell with them – he thought.

Thursday, 30 March 1922

It is said that how you startyour morning sets the tone for the rest of the day and for Gaunt Thursday 30 March got off to a promising start, with no disruption to his well established routine. At eight o’clock, a little after sunrise, he quietly slipped out of bed so as not to disturb his wife, Lady Louise, muttering to himself that the house was miserably cold and draughty.

Having put on his uniform, neatly laid out by his valet the night before, he gingerly descended the narrow staircase to the dining room. Because of a war wound, he walked with a limp and had learned to be careful on the stairs.

Downstairs he glanced out the window. In front of him stretched the broad expanse of the harbour – the sea was dark and calm – there were several vessels at anchor and in the distance he could make out Roches Point lighthouse at the harbour mouth.

The fifty-seven year old looked weary and rumpled, his shoulders slumped and his uniform fitted loosely around his short stature. He wore a navy-blue officer’s working uniform; the jacket had two rows of gilded brass buttons, a handkerchief folded into the breast pocket and no epaulettes. On the cuffs were three golden bands, one with a distinctive loop, which signified his rank of vice admiral. With his greying beard and goatee, he bore a striking resemblance to King George V whom he deeply admired.

Ernest no longer had the chiselled profile of his youth; his face had softened and his once fierce eyes had mellowed. There was a time when his glance could instil fear in his subordinates, but nowadays he was more a source of sym- pathy or even ridicule.

On taking his seat he ate alone: scrambled eggs, bacon (crispy) and kippers along with toast and a pot of tea. It was time for the morning papers. He scoured the Times, looking for news about the navy and Ireland and in particular any update on his bête noir the First Sea Lord, Admiral Sir David Beatty along with his enabler Winston Churchill, the Secretary of State for the Colonies. How he loathed the pair.

The paper carried a curious article titled ‘Cork Kidnap- ping Case’: ‘Practically every motor lorry in Cork was com- mandeered yesterday, it is believed by the Republicans, and driven from the city to an unknown destination. The drivers of the lorries were compelled to accompany the cars. Captain Collins, of the Harbour Commission, a prominent Cork coal merchant, who is a supporter of the Treaty was kidnapped outside a bank in Cork and taken away in a motor car’. But Ernest had become accustomed to the endemic lawlessness and he likely took little if any notice.

Next, he started on the Cork Constitution, the local loyalist paper. On first glance, it was the usual news. Michael Collins was in London holding talks with Winston Churchill. At the anti-Treaty IRA convention held over the weekend in Dublin Tom Barry had called for a military dictatorship. There were reports of numerous shootings and robberies, which ever since the ratification of the Treaty were steadily increasing in frequency. The IRA destroyed the printing presses of the pro-Treaty Freeman’s Journal newspaper in Dublin. In the north, two police constables were shot dead and another wounded. Closer to home there was an attempted robbery of the Hibernian Bank in Cork.

But there were two brief stories that Gaunt would sub- sequently learn were interconnected. On page four was a paragraph titled: ‘Lorries taken, an amazing proceeding.’ Like the Times it mentioned that lorries throughout the city were commandeered and driven ‘to unknown rural districts.’ However, it was not until he reached the bottom of page six that Gaunt’s interest was finally piqued:

HMS Medusa

About midday on Tuesday the naval store ship Medusa, which has been sold for breaking-up purposes, left Cork Harbour in tow of a tug for a cross-Channel port. Yesterday, about 10:30 a.m. she was seen entering the harbour again in tow of the same tug, which brought her up past Cobh [sic] to her former moorings in Monkstown Bay. The tug Warrior, which was engaged in the towage, then came alongside the Deepwater Quay. A number of men went on board and she immediately put to sea at great speed.

Whether Gaunt himself realised the full implication of this piece or whether he needed the advice of his senior naval officer Captain Hugh Sommervilleit’s impossible to know. The captain, who came from a prominent local Anglo-Irish family, would have been familiar with the comings and goings in Queenstown. Maybe he saw a group of gunmen rush through the streets the previous day, heard a commotion, or more likely he had obtained a snippet of information from a shop keeper or dock worker. But whatever the precise sequ- ence of events, by 10:00 Gaunt knew something terribly serious was afoot.

It was now evident that the IRA had seized the Warrior. But of much greater concern to Gaunt was the safety of the Upnor and its precious cargo of over a hundred tons (100,000 kilograms)of munitions. The Upnor had left Queenstown a few hours before the tugboat, bound for Plymouth.

Unable to get any word of the Upnor’s whereabouts Gaunt ordered the destroyer HMS Strenuous and the sloop HMS Heather to ‘raise steam for full speed’ and search for her. His colleague Admiral Sir Montague Browning in Plymouth dispatched two destroyers to assist. To paraphrase Oscar Wilde: to lose one ship may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose two looks like carelessness.

Gaunt was making history by becoming the first ad- miral to learn about an enemy attack directed against him from his morning newspaper. He knew something was terribly wrong, but he was unable to make sense of what exactly was unfolding. He was unsure whether the forces of the Provisional Government under Michael Collins or the anti-Treaty IRA were to blame. How could the IRA contemplate such an operation since it was well known that they had no sea going expertise or capability? Did they think they could get away with challenging the mighty Royal Navy?

Not too far away in Ballycotton, Seán O’Hegarty, the IRA commander in Cork city, had a clearer view of what was happening. Victory would put him in a position of unassailable strength, whereas defeat – with the loss of his best fighters – would cripple his brigade.

But we’re jumping ahead of ourselves. How did this all come to be?

2

Tremble and Obey

In December 1903, Ernest Gaunt commanded the torpedo cruiser HMS Mohawk on a patrol off the coast of Somalia. Beyond the turquoise waters of the Gulf of Aden, he could see the narrow strip of semi-desert scrubland, crossed by dry sandy river beds and in the background loomed the rugged Karkaar Mountains. Settlements dotted the coast, where the villagers eked out a living raising scrawny cattle and goats, fishing and trading. To the fury of the inhabitants, Britain had recently seized the western portion of Somalia as a protectorate and its Italian ally had done likewise in the east.

Gaunt came ashore at the Italian base of Bandar Qassim (now Bosaso) where he was told that two days earlier, Lieut Charles Grabau had been killed at the village of Durbo. Grabau had been shot after he threatened to bombard the village and kidnap its chiefs for refusing to fly the Italian flag.

On hearing the news, the thirty-eight year old Com- mander Gaunt was determined to avenge the Italian’s death. Moreover, he relished the thought of a fight, ‘[I] wanted to see what it would be like to be under fire and whether [I] would be frightened.’

Deliberately neglecting to telegraph the admiralty in London for further instructions, he hastily set sail and anchoring off Durbo that evening, he waited until daybreak before coming ashore accompanied by sixty armed marines and sailors. With his men covering from the beach, he walked half way to the village to parlay with the two chiefs. Meanwhile a strong force of Somalis dug in and aimed their rifles at the intruders.

Gaunt, declared ‘I am the captain of a British man-of-war and we are allies of Italy’, before demanding that the chiefs return with him to be handed over to the Italians and that the villagers surrender one hundred rifles. After the pair rebuffed him saying that they needed a delay of six days to consult with their sultan, Gaunt issued an ultimatum and returned to the beach to wait.

According to a – probably exaggerated – British report the Somalis now numbered 400 fighters. Gaunt drew his men into a line with marines to the right and sailors on the left and he stood in the centre beside a large wheeled Maxim machine gun. The Maxim, capable of firing three hundred rounds a minute, was the colonial pacifier par excellence.

After a short interval, the Mohawk fired a warning shot and when the Somalis failed to surrender it commenced a barrage with its three-pounder (47 mm calibre)guns; the shells effortlessly wrecking homes, food stores and pos- sessions. Then with a bugle call the English advanced. Gaunt led – revolver in one hand, sword in the other – fearless and resolute. However, within minutes a bullet shattered his thigh bone and he collapsed, critically wounded.

His second in command, Lieut Frank Powell, pressed the attack. After half an hour, the villagers had fled and Powell ‘ordered the men to burn and destroy as much of the village as possible’. Finally, the warship covered the British withdrawal by maintaining a heavy bombardment of what remained of Durbo.

Powell estimated that between this skirmish and the earlier fight with the Italians eighty-seven Somalis died, though in all probability the casualties – including women and children – were higher; the sole English fatality was a marine who died, having been shot in the head. It was, in the words of the Evening Telegraph, ‘a little British fight.’

Ernest was brought to hospital in Aden and although initially not expected to live he obstinately refused to allow the doctors to amputate his leg, which would have ended his naval career. But as he steadily recovered, he became the hero he had always desperately wanted to be. Italian sailors visited to serenade him with operatic tunes and later on his way back to England he stopped off in Rome where King Victor Emmanuel III awarded him the silver Medaglia al Valore di Marina (navy valour medal) for ‘gallant conduct’. Newspapers throughout England and in his native Australia wrote of his bravery and within a month he was promoted to captain ‘for service in the attack on Durbo.’

Almost two years later having declined a pension because of his injuries, he returned to active service, taking command of the cruiser Cambrian.

Ernest Frederick Augustus Gaunt was born in 1865, in what was then the Australian colony of Victoria. His father William, who was successively a goldfield magistrate, judge and barrister, was a strict parent and a firm believer in dis- cipline. Once issuing a proclamation to the Chinese gold miners under his wardship: ‘W. H. Gaunt, your protector – tremble and obey.’ In contrast, Ernest’s mother Elizabeth was a ‘delightfully vague’ free spirit.

Ernest grew up in Ballarat – one of the wealthiest of the gold rush towns – where his family lived on the edge of town beside the Dark Swamp. There he, his four brothers and two sisters enjoyed the freedom and adventure of playing in the bush. His younger brother Guy remembered: ‘life was full of incident for us. We had as many ponies as we wished to ride, the excitement of cattle-mustering and orchards full of gaily plumaged parrots … we could shoot possums and flying squirrels.’

William and Elizabeth brought up their children in the Anglican religion instilling in them the values of fear of God, hard work, honesty and love of Queen and country. But despite the outward appearance of respectability and probity, family life was unsettled. William, who was fired from his judgeship, was a gambler who managed to alternatively win and lose large fortunes with the result that the family’s finances were usually precarious. Whereas Elizabeth was an emotionally unstable alcoholic.

After a year at boarding school in Melbourne, the twelve year old Ernest was sent to England to enrol in the Royal Navy cadet school, HMS Britannia at Dartmouth. In those days, the navy felt it was essential to recruit and mould its future officers at a tender age. Therefore this slight and socially awkward boy found himself alone in the world and thousands of miles from home, but the navy became his calling and he went on to whole heartedly embrace his new life.

According to him: ‘No other life can be compared to that of the Royal Navy; the traditions, the atmosphere, the necessary day and night ever-watchfulness and the aloofness set it apart from similarity with any other body of disciplined men’. And paraphrasing a pronouncement from the reign of Charles II he liked to say, that it was the navy ‘on which, under the good Providence of God, that the wealth, strength and safety of the Empire chiefly depend’.

Though of average academic ability, with determination and hard work, he steadily moved up the ranks, becoming a skilled and accomplished sailor with an aptitude for leadership. Admiral Seymour wrote: ‘he is zealous, diligent and has much sound common sense and good judgement. A reliable man.’

By the late 1890s, he was a lieutenant stationed in China when he fell in love with an Irish beauty Louise Geraldine Martyn (or ‘Gerry’ as she was known to her friends). Louise was from an old Anglo-Norman Catholic family and grew up at Gregans Castle in the remote and beautiful Burren of County Clare. But even though her family were well respected, they were of modest means – just like the Gaunts – and she had travelled to Hong Kong seeking a husband. She was part of what was known as ‘the fishing fleet’ – an annual migration of young ladies from Britain to the colonies in search of an eligible bachelor. And Ernest fitted the description.

Gaunt was smitten and was intent on marrying her; though when proposing he explained that the navy would always come first, she second and any children third. Somehow this was insufficient to deter Louise. However there was one final hiccup when she insisted on getting married in a Catholic church and on raising their children in her religion, to which a furious Gaunt reacted by almost ‘sending his bride back to her [Irish] bog.’ But he relented and the wedding went ahead in 1899 in Hong Kong.

Ernest and Louise were a study in contrasts. He was self- controlled, disciplined, logical and at times given to a brooding depression. She was passionate, charismatic, volatile and vain. He was a sober Protestant; she was a devout Catholic who believed in saints and miracles. Though tempestuous at times, it proved to be a long and successful marriage and the couple went on to have three children: John, Sheila and Yvonne.

Louise frequently accompanied her husband as he moved from station to station – partially because she enjoyed the prestige of being an officer’s wife and in part to prevent him from straying.

In China Ernest, though having no legal training, spent a stint as a colonial judge, where he acquired a reputation for ‘simple and swift justice’ and later in Constantinople he distinguished himself with his astute diplomacy.

But it was Ernest’s command of HMS Cambrian that proved his mettle. In October 1905 having provisioned the ship at Queenstown he and his crew of 315 sailed out of Cork bound for Australia. Among the supplies and equipment on board were four trusty Maxim guns.

For the next two years, Gaunt embarked on a series of marathon voyages. From Cork, he sailed to Sydney by way of the Suez Canal and the Indian Ocean. From Australia, he traversed the Pacific stopping off in New Zealand, Honolulu and onto Acapulco, Mexico. Then he voyaged down the west coast of Latin America until he reached Chile, along the way meeting with the presidents of Honduras, Guatemala, Panama and Nicaragua. When he hosted President Zelaya of Nicaragua for lunch, the president even brought on board his fifty-four member band. As always Gaunt saw things from a colonial perspective and in Colombia he was struck by the ‘sloth and indolence’ of the locals. After Chile, he visited some of the most isolated islands in the world – Easter Island, Pitcairn and Tahiti – before returning to base at Sydney.

In 1907, the Cambrian left on a four month patrol of Melanesia. There had recently been outbreaks of violence in the two island groups of the New Hebrides and the Solomon Islands with missionaries and traders being attacked in retaliation for the behaviour of European settlers and the aggressive policies of the Australian authorities. Whereas in Latin America Ernest was entrusted with ‘showing the flag’ – demonstrating the power and reach of the Royal Navy – on his voyage to Melanesia his role was to enforce law and order according to English dictates and norms.

Whenever he received reports of unrest Gaunt sent parties ashore, armed with rifles and a Maxim gun, to attack and burn villages and crops. He was however frustrated that the locals would not fight according to British rules, complaining: ‘The natives are arrant cowards, the thick bush enables them to fire rifles from within a few feet of a man, while they themselves are unseen by him, and they will “snipe” a small party when they will not venture to attack a large one.’ And after several patrols were ambushed in the New Hebrides, resulting in the death of one of his sailors, he abandoned the tactic.

When he moved on to Malaita in the Solomons – home to ‘cannibals of the most depraved sort’ – he resorted to bombarding the villages from the safety of the Cambrian. In the process causing considerable destruction such that the missionary Florence Young later ‘found the natives to be in a state of terror’.

However, these attacks were of dubious value. The Sydney Morning Herald dismissed them as ‘absolutely useless’ and the Australian paper the Sunday Times rebuked Gaunt in a satirical poem:

Let other nations belittle or scoff,

The Boss picked the Briton to manage the show.

With banner and bottle – with Bible and drum,

With bullet and powder and fire and sword,

With clashing of steel and the leaden rain’s hum,

With blood and with ruin he fights for the Lord!

But it’s only for civilization.

Returning to Australia after the Solomons Gaunt’s tour of duty was finally over. In all he had sailed 103,000 kilometres – two and a half times the earth’s circumference – in one of the epic voyages of the Edwardian era, leading the Manchester Courier to write that the achievement was ‘without parallel’ in modern naval history. He had accomplished this without ever running aground or endangering his ship, while sailing poorly charted and treacherous seas; he was without doubt a first rate captain.

Gaunt was awarded the navy’s most prestigious command – captaincy of a mighty battleship – and in quick succession, he captained HMS Majestic, Queen and Superb. In 1913, he was appointed naval aide-de-camp to King George V, who took a deep interest in the navy and the pair developed a warm rapport. Thereafter Gaunt became a regular visitor to Buckingham Palace.

In the summer of 1914 with the outbreak of the First World War Ernest was overjoyed to be promoted to rear- admiral and assigned to the Grand Fleet based in Scotland. The fleet, comprising twenty-two battleships and fourteen swift battle-cruisers, was the greatest naval force ever assembled and was led by his old friend and mentor Admiral John Jellicoe. Jellicoe embodied all the traits that Ernest most admired – thoroughly professional, iron self-control and possessing a sharp and analytical mind. He was a moderniser but also a staunch believer in the navy’s traditions. Ernest regarded him as the greatest admiral ever, ‘far superior to Nelson, Drake and all the others.’

Jellicoe’s arch nemesis was Admiral David Beatty com- mander of the fleet’s battle-cruisers. Beatty was smart, im- petuous, nonchalant and flamboyant. But he was politically astute and he aligned himself with another disrupter, Winston Churchill. Gaunt ‘worshipped’ Jellicoe, but he ‘loathed’ Beatty and Churchill.

For most of the war the Grand Fleet kept the Germans confined to their North Sea base at Wilhelmshaven. However, on 31 May 1916 Admiral Richard Scheer decided to break out. On learning that Scheer had mobilised,