Officers on watch in the British Navy wear brown kid gloves turned down at the wrist. There were hours last week when officers of the Atlantic Fleet amplified this costume with big-hammered Webley service revolvers bulging their hip pockets.
The fleet was anchored in Cromarty Firth, a curving 20-mi. arm of the sea bound in by grey Scotch mountains, ready to sail for autumn battle practice in the North Sea. Early in the week the 12,000 sailors of the fleet learned full details of the pay cuts imposed by the Admiralty Board in accordance with the economy plans of the National Government (TIME, Sept. 21). Because the Cabinet had given no instructions how the pay cuts were made but merely told the Admiralty the total amounts to be saved, the fleet heard last week that midshipmen and junior officers would scarcely be docked at all while ordinary seamen and the lower ratings were to receive a basic pay cut of 25%. Hardest hit were veterans who had enlisted prior to 1925, when an earlier reduction from Wartime pay went into effect with the understanding that sailors who had enlisted prior to that date would continue to draw pay at the original rate.
It was the port watch's afternoon for shore leave. Jolly-boats went in to the little town of Invergordon where the Navy has a large recreation hut and British brewers have a number of very large pubs. Soon officers in their wardrooms on the ship heard disquieting news. A group of Irish sailors from the mighty Rodney were raising a ruckus in the Navy canteen, damning the pay cuts, threatening mutiny, singing "The Red Flag"!
Word was flashed to London. Next day when the starboard watch went ashore there were more mass meetings. There was no more talk of Communism; one Communist agitator that suddenly appeared was beaten up and kicked out of town. But the men meant business. In the morning the acting Commander-in-Chief Rear Admiral Wilfred Tomkinson signalled the battleship Valiant to hoist anchor and lead the line out to sea.
From ship to ship the message passed, from the Rodney to the Nelson, the Hood, the Repulse, the York, Dorsetshire, Norfolk, Warspite and Malaya. All eyes were on the Valiant. Would she obey orders? If she did it seemed certain that the rest of the fleet would follow. But on the Valiant boatswains piped themselves blue in the face. The crew remained below decks. Officers had an anxious huddle on the quarterdeck. Conscious that the eyes of Britain were on them, they attempted to hoist anchor themselves. Forward they found two pickets of thick-necked sailors standing guard over the winches. The sailors were respectful.
"Beg pardon, sir, but it's no go," said the spokesman. "If you get one anchor up, we'll drop the other."
The officers retired in good order. As soon as it was seen that the Valiant could not sail, sailors swarmed like bees over the turrets of all the ships, waving and cheering. Rear Admiral Tomkinson promptly cancelled all shore leave, and the greatest naval mutiny in 134 years was under way.