With this presumed necessity, attention had not been paid to developing a system of maintenance and refit adapted to the need of a fleet performing what Hawke undertook. In this, of course, there cannot be assigned to him the individuality of merit that may belong to a conception, and does belong to the man who initiates and assumes, as he did, the responsibility for a novel and hazardous course of action. Many agents had to contribute to the forwarding of supplies and repairs; but, while singleness of credit cannot be assumed, priority is justly due to him upon whose shoulders fell not only all blame, in case his enterprise failed, but the fundamental difficulty of so timing the reliefs of the vessels under his command, so arranging the order of rotation in their going and coming as to keep each, as well as the whole body, in a constant condition of highest attainable efficiency—in numbers, in speed, and in health—for meeting the enemy, whose time of exit could not be foreknown. Naturally, too, the man on whom all this fell, and who to the nation would personify success or failure, as the event might be,—terms which to him would mean honor or ruin,—that man, when professionally so competent as Hawke, would be most fruitful in orders and in suggestions to attain the desired end. In this sense there can be no doubt that he was foremost, and his correspondence bears evidence of his preoccupation with the subject.
Into particulars it is scarcely necessary to go. Administrative details are interesting only to specialists. But one quality absolutely essential, and in which most men fail, he manifested in high degree. He feared no responsibility, either towards the enemy, or towards the home authorities. Superior and inferior alike heard plainly from him in case of defects; still more plainly in case of neglect. “It is a matter of indifference to me whether I fight the enemy, should they come out, with an equal number, one ship more, or one ship less.” “I depend not on intelligence from the French ports; what I see I believe, and regulate my conduct accordingly;” a saying which recalls one of Farragut’s,—“The officers say I don’t believe anything. I certainly believe very little that comes in the shape of reports. They keep everybody stirred up. I mean to be whipped or to whip my enemy, and not to be scared to death.” Agitation, to a very considerable degree, was the condition of Hawke’s superiors; to say the least, anxiety strained to the point of approaching panic. But Hawke could have adopted truly as his own Farragut’s other words, “I have full confidence in myself and in my judgment,”—that is, of course, in professional matters; and he spoke reassuringly out of the firmness of his self-reliance. “Their Lordships will pardon me for observing that from the present disposition of the squadron I think there is little room for alarm while the weather continues tolerable.” Again, a few days later, “Their Lordships may rest assured there is little foundation for the present alarms. While the wind is fair for the enemy’s coming out, it is also favorable for our keeping them in; and while we are obliged to keep off they cannot stir.” This was in October, when the weather was already wild and the days shortening.