silenced, and Arabi withdrew his forces inland. But a terrible massacre took place in Alexandria; houses were pillaged and burnt. Eventually a force of bluejackets and Marines was landed from the Fleet and order was restored.

Of course Arabi and his followers retreated. It was realized a big force would be required to suppress him, and an expedition was fitted out under the command of Sir Garnet Wolseley, and Kitchener (whose extension of furlough had again expired, and who ought to have returned to England) got his chance.

So it happened that thus early in their careers the two men, Lieutenant Kitchener, R.E., and Lieutenant Jellicoe, R.N., in whose hands, jointly, now rests the safety of the British Empire and the welfare of the world, saw War for the first time and fought for the first time together.

For Jellicoe, after taking part in the bombardment of Alexandria, was fortunate enough to accompany the Naval Brigade which was landed and marched with Wolseley’s troops on Cairo, and fought at Tel-el-Kebir, where Arabi had strongly entrenched his men.

The odds against the British forces were about two to one, but early in September a decisive victory was gained by us, and Arabi’s army routed. For his share in this action Lieutenant Jellicoe was awarded the Egyptian Medal and the Khedive’s Bronze Star.

It is not recorded whether Jellicoe and Kitchener ever met on the battlefield, or, if they did, whether they ever spoke. For then, as now, both were men of few words.

“He is great,” Colonel Taylor said afterwards of Kitchener, “and he is clever.”

“He don’t waste words,” was a bluejacket’s criticism of Jellicoe, “but when he does speak, he hits the mark every time.”

Kitchener remained in Egypt—where he was fated to accomplish the first portion of his life’s work for the Empire. Jellicoe returned to England, and we next hear of him at the Royal Naval College at Greenwich, where he showed that his “mental appetite” was far from satiated. He won the £80 special prize for Gunnery Lieutenants; this was a significant moment in his career. As the world knows, British Naval Gunnery is unrivalled. It was Jellicoe who helped to place it in the enviable position it now holds.

After leaving Greenwich, Jellicoe served on H.M.S. Monarch. It was in May, 1886, while still a lieutenant on this ship, that he nearly lost his life. Sir John Jellicoe has had three very narrow escapes, and this was the first.

The Monarch, which had been lying off Gibraltar, went out for target practice. A stiff breeze was blowing and dirty weather was experienced. Soon a heavy sea got up, and presently the Monarch sighted a ship in difficulties; she turned out to be a cargo steamer from Glasgow, the Ettrickdale, and was fast on the rocks, with the waves breaking over her and threatening to knock her to pieces. The Monarch had only taken one cutter out with her, her smallest; but her Commander asked for volunteers to man it, so that an attempt should be made to rescue the crew of the shipwrecked boat.

There did not seem to be much chance of the small cutter living in such an angry sea; but this was the kind of job which appealed to Lieutenant Jellicoe, who was one of the first to volunteer, and he was given command of the crew.

With seven seamen he started on his desperate—almost hopeless—enterprise. Though the cutter was splendidly managed, she capsized before the Ettrickdale could be reached, and Jellicoe was struggling with his men in the boiling waters.

Marvellous to relate, not a life was lost. More dead than alive, they all managed to reach the shore. For this attempt at saving life Jellicoe received a medal. It was given him by the Board of Trade. But he was not allowed to keep it very long, for he lost it when, in 1887, he went down with the Victoria. Fortunately for England and her Empire, Jellicoe came up again—but his silver medal did not.

Presumably the Board of Trade must have heard of the terrible accident which cost England so many valuable lives and horrified the whole world; but the officials did not offer to replace Jellicoe’s lost medal, and when he wrote and asked if they could obligingly supply him with a duplicate, he received a formal reply that he could have one if he chose to pay for it.

Up to the present we believe that he has not “paid,” and so probably he is without the silver medal he first won for gallantry. Perhaps the Board of Trade is still debating whether it would be justified in going to the expense of providing the Admiral of the British Fleet with another.

Mrs. Jellicoe, Sir John’s mother, possesses an interesting little souvenir in the telegram which Jellicoe sent after he had been rescued, announcing that he was safe—

“Quite safe terrible affair love Jack”.

This simple message naturally brought great joy and relief to his father’s and mother’s hearts. And now the Nation confidently awaits, with Sir John Jellicoe’s family, the receipt at any moment of another telegram almost similarly worded—

“Quite safe splendid affair love Jack!”

CHAPTER IV
THE SINKING OF THE “VICTORIA”

For a short time Jellicoe served as Gunnery-Lieutenant on the Colossus, and then he was appointed Junior Staff Officer of the Excellent gunnery establishment, under the command of Lord Fisher—then Captain.

This meeting between the two men was fortunate for the Junior Officer. Fisher at once marked down Jellicoe as useful, and so, a few years later, when he was Director of Naval Ordnance at the Admiralty, it came to pass that Jellicoe joined Fisher there as his Assistant.

It was just subsequent to this appointment when Jellicoe was, we believe, serving as first lieutenant on board the Sans Pareil, that the German Emperor during the Naval Review put in an appearance with the powerful vessels of his new and comparatively small Navy. Needless to say, both the Kaiser and his officers, together with their ships, were of the greatest interest to our men.

When the Review was over numerous were the discussions and fierce the arguments which centred around William the Second and his little fleet. Everyone present from Junior to Senior had something to say, some criticism to make.

Everyone except Lieutenant John Jellicoe. He kept his mouth shut and his eyes open, and he expressed no opinion either on the Kaiser, his officers or his ships.

Jellicoe only spent about three years at the Admiralty as Fisher’s assistant, but it was quite enough for the authorities to realize that he was an efficient and clever officer—a man who knew how to organize. Captain Fisher found his services invaluable, and as an “assistant” Jellicoe served him faithfully.

Jellicoe would probably be the first to admit that during the comparatively short time he spent at the Admiralty under Fisher he accumulated a vast amount of knowledge. A friendship sprung up between the two men, born of respect. Both were enthusiasts; both loved the Service keenly. Both were ambitious—not for themselves. Neither sought