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Lyttelton Times, Volume LXV, Issue 7824, 2 April 1886, Page 4

It is very evident that there is a screw very loose indeed in Defence matters at the Port of Lyttelton, and that the sooner it is tightened up the better. Were it not that serious considerations are so deeply involved, the report, which we published the other morning, of Admiral Scott’s very original little trip round the harbour, in a rusty torpedo boat, might well call up a broad grin on the face of everyone who read it. The visit of inspection was sorely needed, and if the Admiral can only give a little touch of sarcasm to the report of his visit, with which he will naturally furnish the Government, it should make exceedingly pleasant reading for those inclined to enjoy humour at the expense of the powers that be. The whole affair has its comical side. In due state the Admiral travels up from Dunedin, prepared, no doubt —as most inspecting officers on a first visit are prepared —to be agreeable all round. On Saturday morning he intimates that he will inspect the torpedo-launch that day. “ Very sorry, sir,” is the reply of the commanding officer, “ quite out of the question: impossible to get the vessel off the slip to-day; there are waves fully eighteen inches high running. Would it be equally convenient on Monday ?—weather permitting, of course.” On Monday, the trip is made. The Admiral, like the intelligent baby, soon “ begins to take notice.” Instead of reeling off her 16 or 17 knots, the boat can only manage the pace of a good passenger launch. Instead of applie-pie order and engines working like extra-fine clockwork, there is rust and dirt everywhere and jerking and grinding. There is priming, there is water blown off that runs down the deck in a red, muddy stream. In a little while the whole thing comes nearly to a standstill, and a man begins to haul salt water inboard with a bucket to fill the tank. The spar is run in and out, but it is plain that the men are by no means adepts at the work; it does not seem familiar to them. The torpedo boat takes a minute and a half to turn a complete circle.

Then begin the enquiries. The boat is housed twenty minutes’ walk from the town. The slip is so badly made, the nook in which it is placed is so exposed that, unless in a dead calm and with a splendid rise of tide, it is extremely dangerous to get her off, or extremely difficult to get her

up. She is brought out, say, four times a year, and drills in her do not help to earn capitation for the gallant Navals, so they cannot afford to waste their time in torpedo practice. There is no engineer belonging to her, and it depends upon the goodwill of the Harbour Board whether one can be secured, even when the Admiral comes up to give an eye to that first line of defence of which he is so enthusiastic an advocate. •

Now, besides being rather ridiculous, is not all this penny wise and pound foolish to the last degree F The Harbour Board offered a site for a torpedo boat shed on the western breakwater. The place was handy, convenient, and accessible at all times, and the land would have cost nothing. The offer was rejected. Why ? “ Because the site might bo shelled from down near the Heads,” quoth the authority sent down from Wellington. At first one feels inclined to cower before a military or quasi-naval opinion, delivered with such emphasis. Then the bright idea occurs—lf the torpedo boat and her crew are safe and snug under a shed when hostile vessels are actually inside the Heads and shelling the shipping, a shell or two buzzing about their ears would be just what they would deserve. If, when the enemy attacks us, we have to bury our one defensive weapon in a shell-proof casemate, what, in the name of fortune, do we want with it at all ? It had better be sold at once for what it will fetch than rust in Baker’s Bay. If it is totally impossible to launch the torpedo boat from her present slip, except in the smoothest, calmest water, would it not be wise to invite tenders at once for a gigantic placard to be painted on the scarped face of Godley Head, and running somewhat to the following effect:—“ To Russians and all others whom it may concern. Hostile parties wishing to shell the Port of Lyttelton are requested to time their visit for fine weather, otherwise they cannot be fittingly received by the local authorities. Enemies disregarding this notice are hereby warned that they do so at their own risk, peril, and inconvenience. By order. So-and-So (Defence Minister for the time being).” If, on the contrary, the torpedo boat is meant to make an impression, and, not to make oxide of iron, would it not be well for Government to employ an engineer regularly to look after her? Having imported some of the costliest machinery, it is very false economy to let it spoil from parsimonious motives. A trip about the harbour costs, we are advised, from thirty shillings to two pounds. Surely it would not overstrain the resources of the Defence Department to pass vouchers for that amount every month, or even every fortnight, if by so doing the little vessel could be kept in efficient working ‘order. As to the question of drills, that is part and parcel of what we have urged before in these columns: If the Volunteer system of this Colony is not a sham. Volunteers must be taught their trade effectually. If the Lyttelton Naval Artillery are to learn the whole of their trade, they must be put in' a position to use the launch - frequently. It is not likely they will do so, when they do not thereby earn one penny of the not very royal sum which serves a Volunteer for capitation. With regard to the question of sites for a shed, it is plain as plain can be that the one at present in use is quite unsuitable and worthless, whatever any other might be. It had better be changed at once. At the same time, it might be argued whether the boat would not be perfectly safe if always afloat, moored inside the basin. «. Other iron vessels do not require housing; is it necessary for a torpedo launch ?