will have its counterpart on the sea is a truth which cannot be
questioned.

Davies in his enthusiasm set no limits to its importance. The small
boat in shallow waters played a mighty _rôle_ in his vision of a
naval war, a part that would grow in importance as the war developed
and reach its height in the final stages.

'The heavy battle fleets are all very well,' he used to say, 'but if
the sides are well matched there might be nothing left of them after
a few months of war. They might destroy one another mutually, leaving
as nominal conqueror an admiral with scarcely a battleship 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