The First Sea Lord, Admiral of the Fleet Sir Dudley Pound, had several motives for moving Cunningham from Alexandria to Washington. The fact that the United States was now a co-belligerent was to be welcomed but the American forces would now clamour for resources with more urgency and their shopping lists would be virtually endless; it was vital that the British should retain a major share of American industrial production. Secondly, America had been ushered into war most violently by the attack on Pearl Harbor (7 December 1941) and her other Pacific possessions; it was natural that the American people and their Navy would want to avenge themselves upon Japan, and leave Germany and Italy till later – an option which Britain could not countenance, for though she too had suffered greatly at Japan's hands, she knew that Germany alone possessed the strength to defeat her, while the collapse of Italy might well open a way to re-enter the European continent from the south. Finally, Admiral Ernest J. King, an enigmatic figure who seemed to the Royal Navy to embody anti-British features and appeared unlikely to be ‘a good co-operator’, became Chief of Naval Operations on 26 March. King's priorities seemed to be the rapid expansion of the U. S. Navy, the annihilation of the Japanese fleet, and the concentration of American naval effort in the Pacific. To counter this prospect, a forceful, resolute British Admiral who commanded respect in Washington for his fighting qualities and successes was required, someone who could engage the single-minded, dedicated and determined King on equal terms. No one in the Royal Navy fulfilled the criteria so completely as Cunningham.

Cunningham was most reluctant to go. He did not wish to leave his men and women in the Mediterranean in their hour of adversity. He was essentially a sea-going rather than a desk-bound admiral. He felt he lacked the qualities and interest required for astute maritime diplomacy, though he believed that he could match King's reputed toughness and bluntness [1]. Churchill was also most reluctant to let him go. He had become convinced that Admiral Sir John Tovey was too recalcitrant and too defensively-minded to continue as Commander-in-Chief of the Home Fleet and, though he had had sharp differences with Cunningham, too, he was attracted, as always, by the aura of aggressiveness about him.

Although Henry VIII had created a department of state to run the navy, the records of that body do not survive cohesively before the following century. For the sixteenth century there is no distinct archive of naval records, save that of the High Court of Admiralty. The general workings of the naval administration are spread among various classes of the Public Records, principally the State Papers (the files of the Principal Secretaries, through whom all government correspondence was channelled) and the accounts of the Exchequer. These official records are supplemented from other public collections and material in private hands.

For the first two years of Edward VI's reign the predominant naval concern was the war in Scotland. For this the evidence of the State Papers is plentiful and varied, though somewhat disjointed; we have formal instructions drafted in London [I.2, 3, 8, 50–51], but otherwise the communication is all inbound. At this date the Secretaries did not regularly keep copies of out-letters, and none of relevance survives here. The other half of the correspondence is known only from details rehearsed in reply [e.g., I.20]. Most of the papers printed in this chapter are in the artificially created class of State Papers Scotland. Ample calendared summaries have long been available, but by going back to the original documents and selecting those passages which particularly concern the navy, that aspect of the war can be seen in sharper focus. The manuscript evidence is interwoven with brief extracts from the contemporary printed account of the Pinkie campaign written by William Patten [I.11–16].

Somerset aimed to maintain English control over Scotland from a string of garrisons across the Lowlands. This proved over ambitious and a severe drain on resources, not least because it required a continuing deployment of warships. The acquisition of Broughty Craig, on the Tay estuary some way north of the main theatre, caused special problems which are well illustrated below. In the most difficult conditions a new fort had to be constructed, with sailors seconded to the effort [I.40]. The high command wanted more great ships, not only because of their ability to ride out the winter gales, but because their boats made better landing craft [I.17, 28, 36]. Damaged ships had to be sent back to Newcastle for repair, if not to Hull or London [I.39–41]. There is insight into the performance of galleys.

H. P. Willmott called his book on Britain's war in the Far East Grave of a Dozen Schemes and the title is most appropriate. Britain faced several major problems in defending – and winning back – her extensive Imperial territories in the period 1921–45. In the 1890s, it became apparent to British statesmen and naval chiefs that the extent and scattered nature of the Empire would be difficult to defend against a major foe, especially one who was much closer to Imperial territories than the ‘mother country’. Furthermore, the 1890s witnessed the rise to maritime ‘great power’ status of several new contenders – the United States, Japan and Germany – all of whom were ambitious to establish their own empires and were of doubtful friendliness. These new world powers were ranged alongside Britain's traditional colonial rivals, France and Russia (allied to each other since 1893). Despite a steady enlargement of the Royal Navy after 1889, it was recognised in Britain that the country could not hope to defend its Empire without defusing what had become a highly dangerous situation, with all the great powers, old and new, seemingly ranged against her, each with their own aims and, worse, disputes with Albion. It was necessary to solve these disputes peaceably and, if possible, to make alliances or at least tacit understandings with some of them.

In 1895, a dispute with the United States (and its client Venezuela) over territory in South America was resolved peacefully; Britain thereafter consistently appeased the United States (often to Canada's mortification). In 1902, Britain made an unprecedented move in signing a defensive alliance with Japan; if either power found itself at war with two or more countries, the other was treaty-bound to come to its partner's aid. Japan was a country of yellow-skinned people, not normally treated with respect by Europeans at that time. Moreover, she was at the beginning of her rise to ‘great power’ status and Britain was taking a real risk in going into an alliance with her. The alliance was to last 20 years and Japan fought on Britain's side in the First World War, effectively protecting the Empire's extensive Asian territories. In 1904 and 1907, settlements were made with France and Russia. They were much less binding and rather vague but they defused colonial disputes. Of the major world powers, only Germany remained immune to Britain's overtures.

The Manuscript

The manuscript of Henry Eason's diaries was written over a period of about 30 years. It consists of 13 exercise books. His handwriting is not the best copperplate, but can be read without a great deal of difficulty and, once one is familiar with it, understood without effort or interpretation. The diary has been handed down within the Eason family, being now in the possession of Commander Christopher Eason, RN, Retd, OBE – his grandson. The current intention is that it will remain with the family. It is as accurately written as one could expect for a document mostly composed by the dim light of a mess deck in the days of transition from sail to steam. The only corrections used in this transcription are to rectify obvious mistakes such as the failure on occasion to begin sentences with capitals, failure to punctuate, and similar errors. His spelling is sometimes awry, and there is an occasional lapse of grammar, but it has not been necessary to correct these. There are also differences between the common usage of some words and phrases between his day and the present. Again, these have been allowed to stand, as they are an accurate representation of the times and do not obscure meaning. The most difficult words to present accurately are words that are probably nicknames for places, some of which obscure the real place name. One such is ‘Saccharine’, which is untraceable, and could not be Shakaskraal, which is too far north for the context in which it is used. Others are probably farms, which are not marked on any of the available maps. There are also various versions of place names, for example traditionalists called one of the rivers the Tugela, and the town of that name is given the same spelling. Probably the most accurate present-day spelling is Thukela. These variations come about because of the difficulty of rendering Zulu sounds into English spelling. The usage here is predominantly that contemporary with events, but more modern alternatives are often given in brackets.

Eason's language reflects the common prejudices of his day when writing about Africans. This feature has not been bowdlerised, as it represents the usage of the time.

Cited as ‘the most important literary version of the life of Christ in English before modern times’, Nicholas Love's fifteenth-century Mirrour of the Blessed Life of Jesus Christ was a cornerstone of religious writing in English during the Middle Ages. Detailing Christ's Passion, the extract above describes his persecution before Pontius Pilate, a punishment in which clothing plays a key role. Christ's nakedness obviates his vulnerability as, stripped to be beaten, his mortified body is left unprotected from the ‘harde colde’. In ‘scorne’ of his claims to be the Son of God, the Romans dress him in a cruel parody of kingship's earthly trappings, draping him in red silk and crowning him with thorns and a reed sceptre. They invest Christ ironically with these tradi-tional symbols of kingship in brutal recognition of his lack of worth, marking their refusal to accept his divine status.

Boston, Countway Medical Library, MS 7 (Ballard MS 20), fol. 69r, s. xivex

Cambridge, Gonville and Caius College Library, MS 225/240, fol. 143r, s. xiiiex

–– MS 336/725, fols. 63v–66v, s. xv

Cambridge, St John's College Library, MS 37 (B.15), fols. 51v–53v, s. xv

Cambridge, Trinity College Library, MS O.1.57, onomancy not extant, s. xv

–– MS O.2.45, fol. 1r, s. xiii2

–– MS O.2.5, fols. 8r, 10r–11r, s. xiv

–– MS O.9.10, fol. 75v, s. xv

–– MS R.17.1, fol. 282v, c. 1160

Cambridge, University Library, MS Peterhouse 222, fol. 32r, s. xiii–xiv

Durham, University Library, MS Cosin V.iv.7, fols. 5v–10v, s. xv

London, British Library, MS Additional 10362, fols. 109r–v, 113r, s. xiv

–– MS Additional 15236, fols. 108r–v, 129v, s. xiiixiv

–– MS Additional 4698, fol. 2r, s. xvex

–– MS Arundel 292, fols. 111v–112r, s. xiii

–– MS Cotton Vespasian E. vii, fol. 23v, s. xv

–– MS Egerton 2852, fols. 111v, s. xiv2

–– MS Egerton 843, fols. 31v–32r, s. Xiii+2

–– MS Harley 1735, fols. 35v–36v, 1456–1485

–– MS Harley 2274, fol. 59v, s. xiv–xv

–– MS Harley 267, fols. 226v–227r, s. xiv1

–– MS Harley 3383, fol. 85r, s. xv

–– MS Harley 3719, fols. 175v–176v, s. xv

–– MS Harley 531, onomancy not extant, before 1474

–– MS Harley 5311, leaf I, 1406

–– MS Royal 12 E XXV, fols. 164v–165v, c. 1300

–– MS Royal 12 G IV, fol. 160r, s. xivex

–– MS Royal 17 A XXXII, fol. 2v, s. xv

–– MS Royal 7 D XXV, fol. 75r, s. xiiex

–– MS Sloane 121, fols. 120v–121v, s. xv

–– MS Sloane 1609, fols. 27v–28r, s. xiv–xv

–– MS Sloane 1620, fols. 65r–66v, 70v–71r, s. xv

–– MS Sloane 213, fols. 120r–121r, c. 1400

–– MS Sloane 3160, fols. 172v–173r, s. xv

–– MS Sloane 3229, fols. 6v–7r, s. xv

–– MS Sloane 3526, fols. 6v–7v, s. xv

–– MS Sloane 3554, fols. 12r–14r, s. xv

–– MS Sloane 521, fols. 45r–v, s. Xiv

London, Society of Antiquaries Library, MS 306, fols. 29v–30r, s. xv2

London, University College Library, MS Angl. 6, fols. 11r–v, 33v–36v, s. xvex

The archbishop Js mandate and the royal writ

[77 v] Iohannes Withers artiummagister, canonicus in ecclesiis cathedralibus Sancti Pauli Londoniensis et Sarum ac reverendissimi in Christo patris et domini Domini Christopheri, miseratione divina tituli Sanctae Praxedis sacrosanctae Romanae ecclesiae presbyteri cardinalis Eboracensis archiepiscopi, Angliae primatis et apostolicae sedis legati in remotis agentis vicarius in spiritualibus generalis ac custos spiritualitatis archiepiscopatus Eboracensis, reverendo in Christo patri et domino Domino Thomae, Deo gratia Dunelmensi episcopo, dicti reverendissimi patris suffraganeo aut eius vicario in spiritualibus generali salutem in Domino sempiternam. Breve regium nobis directum cum ea qua decuit reverentia nuper recepimus in haec verba:

Quocirca, reverende pater, auctoritate dicti reverendissimi patris nobis in hac parte specialiter commissa, tenore praesentium peremptorie vos citamus ac priorem ecclesiae vestrae cathedralis Dunelmensis et capitulum eiusdem universosque et singulos abbates, priores, alios etiam electivos, exemptos et non exemptos, archidiaconos, decanos et capitula, conventus et collegia, totumque clerum vestrarum civitatis et dioecesis per vos citari auctoritate praedicta mandamus quod vos, reverende pater, dictique abbates et priores, archidiaconi et decani personaliter, conventus vero, capitula et collegia huiusmodi per procuratores suos singulos, clerusque cuiuslibet archidiaconatus et iurisdictionis per duos sufficientes procuratores ab ipsis conventibus, capitulis, collegiis et clero sufficienter et legitime deputatos in ecclesia metropolitica Eboracensi die Lunae,

In 1150 CE, the tenets and structures of the Latin Church were far from established. So the ‘rules’ – what was and was not permitted behaviour for Christians – were anything but consistent, and were still being worked out as the Middle Ages progressed. Theologians in the universities that were growing in the twelfth century wrestled with a volume of often contradictory decisions from church councils that had taken place since the early days of Christianity, starting with Nicaea in 325 CE. Attempts were made to synthesise sprawling and inconsistent texts, and many of the edicts from such councils were clearly in response to very specific questions from the bishops in attendance. It is also important to bear in mind that, just because pious Christians were not supposed to do something, they refrained from doing so. Societies and the people within them have always been as diverse as they are today. People break the rules. Sometimes the rules vary from place to place. Sometimes nobody cares if you do something you’re not supposed to. Nevertheless, what we can broadly say is that onomantic divination was generally not approved of by medieval church authorities, but at the same time it does not seem that anybody caught in the act would have been punished particularly harshly.

Chapter 4 established that onomancies are extant in a large corpus of manuscripts produced in late medieval Britain. However, as discussed in Chapter 1, onomancy belongs in the category of divination, a practice which had been condemned since the time of the late Roman Empire. This had not always been the case: in ancient Greece and Rome the systems of divination and polytheistic religion were not at odds with one another. In fact, certain forms of divination were a key part of Greek and Roman religion. It was with the rise of monotheistic Christianity as the principal religion of the Latin West that the divinatory arts became problematic. The first part of this chapter will outline the changes in divination's status from the ancient to the medieval eras, and then discuss the main theological condemnations of divination of all kinds, from Augustine in the fourth century through to Thomas Aquinas in the thirteenth.

On 21 April 1654 the day that Oliver Cromwell signed the articles of peace ending the First Dutch War, the Commonwealth Navy ship Marigold was ordered to convoy the English fishing fleet to Iceland. The Marigold's captain, Humphrey Felstead, was further instructed to keep a journal of his voyage and send it to the Admiralty Commission on his return. This was duly done, so that his journal now survives among the State Papers of the Commonwealth. The journal is significant both for being an early survival of its type and for being one of the best contemporary sources available on the activities of the English in Iceland during the early modern period.

Both the decision of the Admiralty to send a convoy to Iceland and the timing of its decision can be explained. While few today are even aware that the English fished off Iceland at this time, it was regarded by contemporaries as one of England's most important fisheries. Indeed, in the 1630s the cod and ling fisheries off Iceland had been described as the ‘greatest fishing of the kingdom’ which, ‘exceedeth the Newfoundland & herring fishing’. And while this might have been a slight exaggeration, it was not much of one; for the Iceland fishing fleet, which came mostly from Norfolk and Suffolk, could contain as many as 160 ships of between 50 and 150 tons burden. The early seventeenth century proved, however, to be the high-water mark of this industry. The Iceland venture was hit hard by the maritime lawlessness of the Civil War and interregnum, so that when the Marigold began her convoy on 16 May 1654, she was accompanied by just 19 vessels. The Admiralty Commission might therefore have felt, with some justification, that if the remnants of the fishing fleet was not protected, an industry would be extinguished that had played a vital role in training men to sea. Moreover, if those in London ever forgot about the fishery, they were regularly reminded of its significance by Major William Burton of Great Yarmouth, who, besides being an alderman of the town on which the Iceland fishery was centred, was also an important Naval administrator for the Protectorate.

The archbishop’s mandate for the convocation

Robertas, permissione divina Eboracensis archiepiscopus, Angliae primas et metropolitanus, auctoritate illustrissmi in Christo principis et domini nostri Domini Edwardi sexti, Dei gratia Angliae, Franciae et Hiberniae regis, fidei defensoris et in terra Ecclesiae Anglicanae et Hibernicae supremi capitis legitime fulcitus, reverendo in Christo patri confratri nostro Domino Roberto, eadem gratia Carliolensi episcopo eiusve vicario in spiritualibus generali salutem, et fraternam in Domino caritatem. Breve domini nostri regis supradicti nobis directum cum ea qua decuit reverentia nuper recepimus in haec verba:

Quocirca reverende confrater, tenore praesentium peremptorie vos citamus ac decanum ecclesiae cathedralis Carliolensis et capitulum eiusdem, universosque et singulos collegiorum magistros, praepositos et gardianos ac alios electivos, exemptos et non exemptos, qui ab antiquo vocari, citari seu moneri solebant per vos in virtute oboedientiae citari volumus et mandamus quod vos, reverende confrater, dictique decani, archidiaconi, magistri, praepositi, gardiani ac alii electivi personaliter, capitulum vero ecclesiae Carliolensis huiusmodi per procuratorem suum sufficientem, clerusque Carliolensis dioecesis per duos sufficientes procuratores legitime deputatos in ecclesia nostra metropolitica Eboracensi quinto die Novembris proximo futuro post datum praesentium [5 November 1547] inter horas octavam et nonam ante meridiem eiusdem diei, cum continuatione et prorogatione dierum tune sequentium si opus fuerit, et locorum, coram nobis aut nostris locum tenentibus, commissariis sive commissario, pluribus aut uno, in ea parte deputatis aut deputandis, compareatis et compareat quilibet eorundem,

This is the final volume of a set of five. The first volume, Anglo-American Naval Relations, 1917–1919, was published in 1991, and the second, Anglo-American Naval Relations, 1919–1939, in 2010. Other publications (including three volumes for the Navy Records Society) have precluded the completion of the series. Mr Robin Brodhurst, author of a biography of Admiral of the Fleet Sir Dudley Pound, is editing two volumes corresponding to Pound's time as First Sea Lord (June 1939– October 1943), one covering the years 1939–1941 and the second dealing with the period 1941–1943. The account in this volume begins with Admiral of the Fleet Sir Andrew Cunningham's assumption of the First Sea Lordship on 5 October 1943 and concludes with the formal surrender of Japan on 2 September 1945. This volume is entitled Anglo–American-Canadian Naval Relations, 1943–1945, for the very good reason that, by the end of the war, the Royal Canadian Navy was the third largest in the world, after its two great partners, and Canadian naval and air forces played a major role in anti-submarine warfare in the Atlantic, and rendered important service also in other theatres.

The period covered by this volume was the time in which victory was forged and the three major Allies enjoyed an almost unbroken series of maritime triumphs. In Part I , the relationships of the senior commanders, their services and their countries is discussed. Part II deals with the last stage of the fight against the U-boats, a war which by 1943 had spread to most of the world's seas. Part III deals with the Western Allies’ eventual return to north-west Europe. In Part IV, the final operations in the Mediterranean, including the landings in Southern France and at Anzio in Italy, are covered. Part V recounts the participation of the British Pacific Fleet in the concluding operations against Japan.

I have drawn on the Admiralty, Premiership and Chiefs of Staff Sub-Committee papers at the National Archives, Kew, London. The National Maritime Museum at Greenwich, London, has permitted access to the papers of Admiral of the Fleet Lord Fraser, C-in-C of the British Pacific Fleet. The Churchill Archives Centre at Churchill College, Cam-bridge, has allowed access to the papers of Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsay, the Allied Naval C-in-C for the invasion of north-west Europe.