Commodore Goodenough was so impressed by my memorandum that he had a multitude of copies printed and circulated, with the result that they were all burnt and I was damned, and I got a very good talking to by the First Sea Lord. I hadn’t the courage of those fine old boys--Bishops Latimer and Ridley--and ran away from the stake. Besides, I wanted to get on. I felt my day had not yet come. Years after, I commanded the “Inflexible,” still with masts and sails. She had every sort of wonderful contrivance in engines, electricity, etc.; but however well we did with them we were accorded no credit. The sails had as much effect upon her in a gale of wind as a fly would have on a hippopotamus in producing any movement. However, we shifted topsails in three minutes and a half and the Admiral wrote home to say the “Inflexible” was the best ship in the Fleet. Ultimately the masts and sails were taken out of her. It was not till I was Director of Naval Ordnance that wooden boarding pikes were done away with. I had a good look round, at the time, to see if there were any bows and arrows left. What my retrograde enemies perfectly detested was being called “the bow and arrow party.” When later they fought against me about speed being the first desideratum, the only way I bowled them over was by designating them as “the Snail and Tortoise party.” It was always the same lot. They wanted to put on so much armour to make themselves safe in battle that their ideal became like one of the Spithead Forts--it could hardly move, it had so much armour on. The great principle of fighting is simplicity, but the way a ship used to be built was that you put into her everybody’s fad and everybody’s gun, and she sank in the water so much through the weight of all these different fads that she became a tortoise! The greatest possible speed with the biggest practicable gun was, up to the time of aircraft, the acme of sea fighting. Now, there is only one word--“Submersible.” But to proceed with another Prediction: