Division is bad only
when it is pushed beyond the limits of well-knit deployment. It is
theoretically wrong to place a section of the fleet in such a position that
it may be prevented from falling back on its strategical centre when it is
encountered by a superior force. Such retreats of course can never be made
certain; they will always depend in some measure on the skill and resource
of the opposing commanders, and on the chances of weather: but risks must
be taken. If we risk nothing, we shall seldom perform anything. The great
leader is the man who can measure rightly to what breadth of deployment he
can stretch his concentration. This power of bold and sure adjustment
between cohesion and reach is indeed a supreme test of that judgment which
in the conduct of war takes the place of strategical theory.

In British naval history examples of faulty division are hard to find. The
case most commonly cited is an early one. It occurred in 1666 during the
second Dutch war. Monk and Rupert were in command of the main fleet, which
from its mobilisation bases in the Thames and at Spithead had concentrated
in the Downs. There they were awaiting De Ruyter's putting to sea in a
position from which they could deal with him whether his object was an
attack on the Thames or to join hands with the French. In this position a
rumour reached them that the Toulon squadron was on its way to the Channel
to co-operate with the Dutch. Upon this false intelligence the fleet was
divided, and Rupert went back to Portsmouth to cover that position in case
it might be the French objective. De Ruyter at once put to sea with a fleet
greatly superior to Monk's division. Monk, however, taking advantage of
thick weather that had supervened, surprised him at anchor, and believing
he had a sufficient tactical advantage attacked him impetuously. Meanwhile
the real situation became known. There was no French fleet, and Rupert was
recalled. He succeeded in rejoining Monk after his action with De Ruyter
had lasted three days. In the course of it Monk had been very severely
handled and forced to retreat to the Thames, and it was generally believed
that it was only the belated arrival of Rupert that saved us from a real
disaster.

The strategy in this case is usually condemned out of hand and made to bear
the entire blame of the reverse. Monk, who as a soldier had proved himself
one of the finest strategists of the time, is held to have blundered from
sheer