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ISBN 978-1-952423-57-4
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PIPER’S PYRO
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Epilogue
 Authors Note

Piper’s Pyro starts three days before the end of Bone’s Destiny. Around midway through the book, the
timelines merge. Naturally, stuff has been going on in Fargo while Bone was in Montana, before being
called back to Fargo regarding Destiny’s biological family. Now you’ll get all the details leading up
to the cliffhanger in Bone’s book. Happy reading loves.
 1

Piper

Three Days Ago

“What’s this? No bodyguards.” Midnight scanned the room from behind the bar, her mouth gaping and
a white dishcloth in her hand. She was the kind of bartender who said whatever came to mind. No
matter if it hurt someone or embarrassed them.
The bitch didn’t need to make me feel like a child. I had no choice but to let one of my brothers
follow me everywhere after Cobra gave the order. It sucked. Sucked massive balls.
“How does it feel to be let out of your gilded cage, little princess?”
I swallowed the last of my old fashion and lifted my chin. “It feels fucking fantastic.”
“I bet it does.” Midnight eyed me, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “What trouble do you
plan to get into now that you have some freedom?”
“I’ll have another one of these.” I raised my empty glass. “Keep them coming.”
“So you want to get wasted. Sounds thrilling.” She rolled her bright blue eyes. “Why don’t you
live a little while out of your cage?”
“You know who my brothers are. Cobra only let me come to the casino because no one gets in who
isn’t on the approved list. And I begged him.”
“Wow, that’s embarrassing.”
“Yes, you bitch, it is shameful.” Did she have to make me feel worse than I already did?
“Guess it worked. When did Cobra become soft?”
I narrowed my gaze. “Karma, I guess.” I wasn’t about to tell her I cried a little to play on my
brother’s emotions. It was demeaning and pathetic to sink so low. “Eyes are still fucking watching
me, though I can’t see them.” Cameras were all over the place. I might not have one of my brothers
breathing down my neck, but I was still guarded.
“Sucks to be you.” She placed a fresh drink in front of me.
“Not always.” I understood my family’s worry about Forrest Frat’s obsession with me. Gunner
had been tailing Forrest, but he’d lost track of him after receiving some shocking news. Of course
Cobra had refused to give me any details.
Whatever. I was free… for a couple of days anyway. I had orders not to leave Aeros Casino
without an escort, or I’d really be locked in a cage instead of the metaphorical one Midnight
mentioned.
“I wouldn’t want to be the youngest child in a family full of bikers. I don’t envy you one bit.” She
clucked her tongue and froze when a blond, tatted man sat two stools down from me. “Mercy,” she
whispered, then asked him, “What’ll you have?”
“Jameson.” He stared at Midnight while she poured his drink.
I brush my thumb against my glass, willing him to turn my way so I could get a better look.
Although his side profile made my thighs quiver and my stomach flutter, I wanted to see all of him.
From my vantage point, I studied him casually so as not to appear desperate. He had a golden tan,
white-blond hair trimmed tight on the sides and styled on the top. I bet he had a bathroom full of hair
products. His intoxicating cologne wafted in the air and circled around me teasingly.
“I haven’t seen you before.” Midnight’s voice snapped me back to the present. She set his glass on
the bar and leaned on her folded arms. The move made her plump tits nearly spill out of her tank top.
“It’s my first time.” He bobbed his head and took in the room.
“And how do you like it?”
“So far, so good.” He drank his whiskey.
“Are you here for the blackjack table or the entertainment?” I swiveled in my chair to face the
blond hottie, anything to get his attention, which had remained on Midnight.
“Both.” He took a gulp of his whiskey. “So, how’s the entertainment?” He directed his question to
Midnight.
Fuck, he was into her.
“First class.” She stepped away from the bar. “I’m off at one.” She went to help another customer,
shaking her ass like a pendulum. Even I couldn’t help but stare at her leather-clad, heart-shaped
backside.
“Then it’s a date,” he shouted at her.
She gestured thumbs up. Damn cocky bitch.
Well, good for her. I wasn’t that interested in him anyway. The Flaming Triads were performing
tomorrow night in the lounge. They were my favorite rock band, and the real reason Cobra had told
me I could stay the weekend at the casino. Their New Year’s Eve concert had been canceled, and I’d
been heartbroken.
I was in the bar hoping to run into Flint, the band’s lead singer. Meeting the crew had been my
dream, so I nearly passed out when my brothers hired the group to play at the casino. Not many girls
get a chance to hang with their favorite rock stars.
However, my intentions went beyond conversation and maybe partying. I wanted to get under the
sheets with Flint. Midnight’s question about getting into trouble had been prophetic. I had one goal, to
get in bed with Flint.
Screw the dude two stools over. It was his loss for not giving me the time of day. Not that I
planned to hook up with him. At least, I didn’t think I would.
I swooped my gaze in his direction as if observing the activity in the room. My clit pulsed, causing
me to suck in a breath.
He sipped his drink and slowly licked his bottom lip as he put the glass down. I wouldn’t mind
spreading my legs to delight in his velvety tongue. I’d let him lick me from head to toe and
everywhere in between. It could be the pre-party to being with Flint… or hoping to be with the rock
god.
Look at me acting like a hard-up, desperate whore. My family would go nuts.
Lady M would be furious.
My dad would forbid me from leaving the farm.
My brothers would torture any guy for touching me without their permission. They might even cut
his balls off.
No one would ever get my family’s blessing to be with me unless he was a biker and jumped
successfully through every hoop they put him through.
Fuck, I was destined to be alone.
Don’t be a drama queen. You’ve always gotten your way. Why let your folks and brothers
control your love life?
Damn straight.
I finished my drink and lifted the glass in the air. “Gimme another, please!” I hollered at Midnight.
She acknowledged my request with a nod.
My stomach somersaulted and my breathing grew laborious when I noticed the blond hottie’s
mouthwatering tattooed biceps and thick forearms. He clearly worked out. He might even be a gym
rat. Nothing turned me on more than a man with strong arms to hold me like vises while he fucked me
into tomorrow.
“Stop looking at me. It’s rude,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
“Excuse me?” What an asshole.
“I’m not interested. Just here for a drink.”
“Funny, that’s not what Midnight’s expecting. Did you already forget your date after her shift
ends?”
“I’ll be long gone by then.”
“Wow, you are a piece of shit.”
His head whipped around to face me. Our gazes locked and not a word left his lips.
Seconds ticked by as we stared at each other.
The air crackled with sexual tension.
His blazing brown eyes liquified my panties. “I’m not here for pussy.”
“That’s good because mine’s not on the menu.”
“Are you sure about that? I can smell what you’re offering from here.”
“Do you? Sorry for the confusion. I was hoping to signal the guy at the end of the bar.” I peered
around Mr. Cocksure and smiled at the first man who noticed me.
“Liar. I felt your eyes on me. Heard your pleas to have my cock deep inside your dripping wet,
neglected pussy.”
Filthy bastard. “Must have been the bartender’s thoughts you heard. You’re not my type.”
“Here you go, babe.” Midnight set an old fashion in front of me. “Go easy. I don’t want to carry
you up to your room.” She smiled at Mr. Cocksure. “Can I get you anything else? A quickie in the
bathroom to hold you over until I’m off.”
He kept his intense burning gaze on me. “I’m not available tonight, but I’ll take another drink.”
“Now, who’s the liar?” I shook my head with a disgusted expression. This guy was a piece of
work. Who screws with women like that? Cocksure assholes who believed they were God’s gift to
women, that was who.
“What’re you talking about?” Midnight asked in confusion.
 “He was screwing with you. Said he’d be long gone before you were off.” I wouldn’t lie to
Midnight. She was my friend and seemed to want him. Then again, she liked most men.
“Thanks for telling me, babe.” She filled the asshole’s glass and left.
“You enjoyed dashing her hopes. Why?”
I scoffed. “You’re so full of yourself. She’s my friend. I was protecting her from you.”
“You were jealous I gave her attention instead of you.”
“Oh my God.” I threw my head back and laughed. “Don’t attempt to analyze me because clearly,
you’re a narcissist who believes he’s every woman’s wet dream.” It was freaky how he had me
pegged, but I’d never admit anything.
“You want me.” He moved to the stool beside me.
“In your dreams.” A maelstrom of sensations rushed through my veins. What was he doing?
Fucking with me, obviously.
“You’re not my type either.” His statement crushed me.
“Good.”
“How does that make you feel?” His eyes lowered to my lips.
“Relieved.”
“Liar. You wouldn’t be flushed and quivering if you didn’t want me. I might be able to make an
exception for you.”
“Make an exception? How lucky for me, but I’d rather take my chances jumping out of a plane
without a parachute.” The gall of him.
“Don’t be offended. You’re not unpleasant to look at. I’ve been with uglier.”
I gaped. “Fuck off.”
“Okay.” He stood with his drink in hand. “As I said, I’m not here for pussy.” He was about to
leave when…
“Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?” the man I’d smiled at asked.
Mr. Cocksure didn’t move.
“Um… Sure.” I patted the empty stool on my left side and smiled victoriously when my opponent
growled.
Take that, Mr. Cocksure.
 2

Pyro

An inferno of hate and lust twisted my soul into a destructive tornado while I tried to contain myself
beside the gorgeous brunette who’d managed to strike a fire in me—something no woman had ever
done.
Her laughter pierced my eardrums and danced across my body tauntingly.
When she leaned toward the other dude and spoke in a low voice, I almost wrapped my massive
hand around her throat to shut her up.
Why in the fuck had I come to the bar? I should have listened to my first instinct and stayed in my
room. I hated being around a lot of people and preferred to be alone.
I shouldn’t be here.
I should leave.
Thinking…
Thinking…
No.
Why the fuck had I played hard to get with her? The second I entered the bar, I became acutely
aware of her. I should’ve turned right around and left. But no, I had stayed and flirted with the
bartender to get my jollies off messing with both women.
I hadn’t lied about ditching Midnight before her shift had ended. She would’ve been a sweet piece
of ass after I peeled those fucking leather pants off her. But the gorgeous brunette had made my skin
tingle, and a bolt of desire licked down my spine and fucked up my original plans of only having a
couple of drinks and returning to my room.
Her giggles grew louder. Was she trying to make me jealous?
Christ, I was hard as steel. My fucking cock wanted her.
I wanted her.
Why hadn’t I pounced when I had the chance? It was the goddamn chase I lived for. I almost had
her right where I wanted, pushing me away and calling me names. We were only minutes away from
slapdown, ugly, angry sex. Once I had my fill of her, I would’ve kicked her out of my room, and she’d
be nothing more than a fleeting thought.
I’d screwed the pooch this time.
Relieving myself would be degrading as fuck. I needed to sink into a warm, wet pussy. Conquer
and possess my prey for a few hours. I would’ve been good as new.
I swept my gaze over the bartender to reconsider her offer of a quickie in the bathroom. Not ideal,
but I’d get to come.
I was about to call her over when…
“Piper is a great name,” the turd in a suit said.
I repeated Piper in my head and let it play on my lips. A vortex of emotions turned the tornado
inside me into a hurricane.
“Thanks. I like it.” She drained her drink and peered over her shoulder at me. She had that drunk
glow on her pretty face. She turned back to the other guy. “What’d you say your name was again?”
“Turd,” I hissed.
She giggled and elbowed me. “Be nice.”
“I’m never nice.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You don’t like nice,” I whispered at the shell of her ear. “You want mean and brutal. Rough sex.
You want me.”
“You’re starting to sound pathetic. Have some self-respect and leave.”
“Make the turd leave.”
“Is something going on here?” the guy asked as if offended. He looked like a lawyer in his
pinstriped suit. Definitely not Piper’s type.
From the moment our eyes locked, I sensed she was wild, free-spirited, and uncontainable—an
addictive and dangerous mix for a guy like me.
“Nothing at all.” She waved her hand nonchalantly. “My friend likes to interfere in my life. It’s
annoying as hell.”
The suit didn’t appear to believe her as he considered me.
Lemme confirm his doubts.
I glided my hand around her waist and tugged her firmly against my chest. “Dance with me,” I told
her. To hit it home for the suit, I kissed her neck. My favorite Whitesnake song began as if the cosmos
was calling us to the dance floor.
Piper trembled.
“What game are you two playing?” The annoying turd tossed a few bills on the bar.
“Wait, um… Shit, I forgot your name again.” Piper pushed my hand off her. “I’m not playing any
games.”
I stood behind her and jerked my head for the suit to leave.
“I’m out of here. After telling you my name three times, you don’t even remember it.”
“Because you’re forgettable,” I growled.
“Shut. Up!” She hit my shoulder.
Not okay. I grabbed her bicep and smashed my lips to hers. Jesus Christ, she tasted better than
expensive champagne and gourmet truffles. I forced my tongue into her mouth and devoured her like a
starved animal.
“You two are made for each other.” The suit left in a huff. His statement felt like an evil hex… A
life sentence.
 Did I care?
Not while I plundered Piper’s decadent mouth. When I came to my senses, I’d probably regret
tonight for the rest of my life.
Again, did I care?
Fuck no.
Piper’s tongue twisted with mine. On the sly, she stole the air from my lungs with her voracious
hunger. Much like a desperate woman deprived of affection… Deprived of a man’s cock.
It didn’t make any sense. Piper was gorgeous. Sexy. Alluring and vivacious. Men had to have been
lined up for a chance between her legs.
The “Still of the Night” lyrics snapped me back to the present. Rather than break our lip lock, I
tugged her off the stool and dragged her to the dance floor.
I pawed at her lush ass, not giving two fucks who might be watching our dirty dancing.
She ground her pelvis against my stiffy, gasping and sighing, seemingly close to having an epic
orgasm.
I’d likely come next.
“Do you want my cock?” I asked through our kissing.
“Mhm.”
“Let’s go.” I released her, took her by the hand, and stalked out of the bar. I caught the first open
elevator and pushed number four. When I faced Piper, she threw herself at me. I stumbled against the
interior wall and hit the back of my head. “Fuck,” I hissed.
“Don’t be a baby.” She hooked her arms around my neck and pressed her full lips to mine. I lifted
her by the waist, and she locked her legs around my hips.
I’d been with dozens of women, but never one so fucking strong-willed and domineering. How
had she become this way? Had she been raised by wolves or a house full of cavemen?
The elevator dinged. The doors opened.
I carried my vixen down the hallway as we ravaged each other.
People passed us. I felt their gawking eyes and heard their whispers flitting through the air.
Piper didn’t seem to care. Neither did I.
Outside my room, I pressed my thumb to the screen on the wall to unlock the door. Aeros Casino
was the most hi-tech I’d ever been to without keycards.
Inside, I made a beeline for the bed, dropped Piper onto the mattress, and pounced. “I have two
questions.”
“What?” She unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans in a frantic, jerky manner.
“Are you free of STDs and on birth control?”
“Asshole!” She slapped me across the face.
“Bitch, what the fuck was that for?” I pinned her hands above her head. “If you don’t answer yes
to both questions, I’m kicking you out.”
“Your fire was burning out. Thought a good slap would ignite the flames.”
I cocked my head. “Seriously?”
“I’m not here to talk. I’m clean and on birth control, but you need to wear a condom, or the fuck
fest we’re about to have won’t happen.”
I blinked at the hardcore bitch. “Fine by me.”
We went at each other like a couple of feral, horny dogs. Our clothing went flying. Our shoes hit
the walls.
She removed her bra while I tugged her thong off with my teeth. I sucked on her inner ankle and
dragged my tongue against her flesh up to her thighs. Everything about this woman drove me mad.
Her sarcastic, pretty mouth.
Her lean yet curvy body.
The scent of her arousal.
I opened my mouth and dug my teeth into her meaty thigh.
“Ow, you fucker!” She clamped my head between her knees. “How dare you bite me?”
“Payback is a bitch.” I pushed apart her legs and held them down on the mattress, spread eagle.
“There’s no blood.”
She seethed, her chest rapidly rising and falling. “It hurt.”
“But admit it. You liked the sudden jolt of pain.” I lowered my gaze to her pink pussy. “You’re
dripping for me.”
“So are you going to just admire my cunt or eat me out like it’s your last meal?”
“Fuck, you’re brazen.”
“And you’re not the tough guy I thought you were.” Her insult set me on fire. “Do you need me to
explain how oral sex works? It’s simple. Lap me up like I’m your favorite flavor of ice cream. Come
on… Get licking… I mean, if you know how to use your tongue. If not…” She looked at my dick. “I
guess he’ll do if we jump to fucking.” She was cruel and relentless with her digs.
The injustice of it all was I liked how it fueled my lust for her. She was obviously depraved like
me. The suit’s words tumbled through my head, “You two are made for each other.”
I wanted to find out if he might be right.
“All right, bitch. I will make you beg for mercy, but I won’t give you any.”
“Promises, promises.” She rolled her gray eyes like she was bored.
I didn’t waste another second. I dove face first, smashing my nose against her clit and fucking her
with my tongue.
She yelped and jolted her pelvis. “Holy shit! I didn’t think you had it in you.” She held my head
and fucked my face. “That a boy. Gimme you’re best because this is the only time you’ll get to eat my
pussy.”
Her words angered me. She didn’t get to tell me what and who I could have. If I fucking wanted to
have her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I fucking would.
I spread her ass cheeks and pressed my middle finger into her tight hole.
“Whoa. Wait.” She squirmed under me. “I didn’t agree to this.”
“Can’t take the stinging heat? Don’t be a baby.”
“I can take it.” Of course she could. Nothing and no one would tell her what she could do. She
must’ve had a bunch of older brothers who picked on her and toughened her up.
“Maybe we should stop. I’m too much for you.” I reared back.
“No! Didn’t I say gimme your best?” She squeezed my head, ratcheting up her intensity. Fuck, she
turned me on.
“The next time you complain, the fuck fest is over.”
“Why are you still talking?” She pushed my head toward her pussy.
 3

Piper

His finger took my virgin hole while he sucked on my clit. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I’d never
let him see me cry.
Ironically, the pleasure-pain combination launched a powerful surge in my core like I’d never
experienced before. Though my brothers tried to keep every guy away from me, I wasn’t a virgin.
They couldn’t babysit me every second of the day.
But everyone in Fargo knew the Knight’s Legion MC ruled, so finding a local guy to go out with
hadn’t been easy, which meant I wasn’t all that experienced with sex.
“Relax your ass, Piper. It’ll be more enjoyable if you’re not so tense.” Hearing my name on his
lips made my stomach flutter and my breathing stutter.
I exhaled slowly to calm myself.
“Good girl.” He went back to licking between my folds and rubbing his nose against my clit.
I tried to fight my building orgasm. Didn’t want this to end too quickly.
When I’d arrived at the casino, I had hoped to meet one of the band members. I guess the universe
had other ideas and thought hooking up with a disgustingly hot asshole would be better. I wasn’t
complaining. So far, he was giving me the best sex I’d ever had.
And I didn’t even know his name, yet he was doing things to me I’d never consider doing with a
total stranger.
My mother would scold me for being so stupid.
My father would lock me up until I was seventy and too tired to fuck.
My brothers would paralyze him so he could never have sex again, but they had no idea how
talented he was with his tongue.
Did I care about Mr. Cocksure’s safety?
Sort of. I’d never intentionally put a person in the line of my brothers’ wrath. Yet, there I was,
bowing my back and mewling like a goddamn cat when he flattened his tongue and swiped from one
end to the other.
 “How are you so fucking sweet?” He pushed his tongue into my heat. “What do you use to clean
yourself, or do you taste this good naturally?”
“I have no idea. Stop talking!”
He chuckled from between my legs. His sexy rumble vibrated my pussy and put me over the edge.
“Oh shit! I… I… I’m coming!” My climax hit with a vengeance.
He continued to fuck both my holes while I moaned and trembled. It was like he wanted to draw
out my orgasm. It seemed to work. The pressure in me kept building and building.
My legs shook.
My pussy pulsed.
My mouth remained gaping.
Then I shattered into a bazillion pieces. I squeezed my head between my hands and gasped for air.
Time seemed to pass without notice while I floated in the atmosphere as if having an out-of-body
experience.
Suddenly, I was flipped onto my stomach, my hips raised, and he was behind me, his cock deep
inside me.
“I have never seen anything like that before,” he hissed. “You are the fucking hottest, sexiest
woman I’ve ever met.”
I didn’t know what to say. No one had ever spoken to me like that before.
He plowed into me forcefully, the tip of his dick hitting my G-spot. Another orgasm formed in an
instant.
“You’re wearing a condom, right?” I hadn’t noticed him putting one on.
“Of course. I’m not stupid.”
“Good.” It’d been a while, but I thought I could feel the latex, which was a relief. Getting pregnant
by a man I’d just met would be horrible. Doubling up the protection to prevent conception was my top
priority. No pill or shot or condom on their own was foolproof. Nothing was one hundred percent
safe except for abstinence.
He gripped my hips harder as he grunted with each thrust. “I need to hear you.” He reached his
hand around and played with my clit.
“Ooh, yes!” I pushed my ass against him.
“That’s it. Sing to me, baby.”
Sing, I did.
His speed and forcefulness increased.
The bed rocked violently. I wouldn’t be surprised if we broke it. Honestly, I’d be disappointed if
we didn’t destroy it.
The sound of our skin slapping set me off again. I squeezed his cock with all my strength and
screamed.
“Jesus Christ!” He froze and wrapped his arms around my waist to hold me in place. Profanity
bounced off the walls until his body relaxed.
I collapsed on the mattress after he pulled out of me, utterly spent.
My ears tracked his movements. He went into the bathroom, and seconds later, the toilet flushed.
Then he went to the mini fridge and brought a couple of beers to the bed. He cracked one open and set
it on the nightstand closest to me. He chugged his own.
“I don’t think I can move,” I muttered.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Yes, but in a good way.”
 “Damn. Okay.” He sat on the edge of the bed with his back toward me.
“Why are you so far away?” I frowned and tucked my knees toward my chest. Since he’d worn a
condom, there wasn’t much of a mess, mostly my wetness. I wasn’t lying to him about hurting me in a
good way. My pussy ached, but only because he had jackhammered into me. He was also thicker than
the others I’d had fun with. My butthole was another story. It stung from being stretched. I must’ve
been crazy to enjoy the intrusion.
What would having his cock in my ass feel like?
“I’m thinking you should go.”
“What?” I vaulted into a sitting position. “Why? Did I do something wrong?” Stupid girl. Never
ask a guy such questions.
He shrugged as he drank his beer.
“Well, fuck.” I bit my bottom lip, feeling insecure and like a failure. He wanted me to leave after
one time? Fine by me. He obviously didn’t know a good thing when he saw one… or fucked one.
Other than my ego being bruised, I wasn’t heartbroken. I used him like he had used me.
But I had difficulty ignoring the damn electrifying chemistry I thought we had. And his stupidly
handsome face and iron biceps. And the tattoos decorating his back and arms. Did he have ink on his
chest too? I didn’t recall.
I collected my pride and rolled off the bed.
“It’s not you. It’s me,” he said in a low tone.
Was he serious? Cliché asshole. “Just stop. Not another word.” I searched for my clothes. Did he
want to humiliate me? Maybe his hot and cold behavior was for the best. I might have actually liked
him…
“You’re a beautiful and sexy woman. But I didn’t come for—”
“The pussy. I know. You told me already.” I clasped my bra. When I couldn’t find my thong, I put
my jeans on without them, then my blouse.
“Don’t be hurt. I had a good time.”
“I’m not hurt. You gave me what I wanted. It’s all good.” I slipped one foot into my four-inch
heels, then the other, wishing he’d stop going on about it.
“Really?” He screwed up his face in confusion.
“Yes, really. Do you feel guilty or something?” I smirked to make him feel like a sensitive pussy.
What was his problem? He had every right to ask me to go. It was his room, after all.
He turned away and shook his head.
“Good. Have a nice life… Whatever your name is.” I reached for the doorknob.
“Russell. My name is Russell Cullen.”
I peered over my shoulder at him. “Cullen? Like from the Twilight movies?”
“Yes, unfortunately. Are you team Edward or Jacob?”
“Neither. I prefer to be bit by a human. Thanks for the epic orgasms.” I winked and left the room.
When the door latched, I pressed my back against it and exhaled. “What a night.” I rushed toward
the elevator before Russell regretted his decision to make me leave. I might cave to his every wish if
his tongue was involved.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. “Oh shit.”
“Where were you?” Hustler barked.
“Just taking a stroll.” I entered the metal box.
“Your hair is a mess and you look like you just had sex,” Spectre said. “Who were you with?”
“You’re not my keeper.”
 “Midnight said you left with a man.” Hustler crossed his arms over his chest. “If Cobra finds out,
he’ll make you go home.”
“Then don’t tell him.”
“Who were you with?” Spectre asked again. “Do you want us to check the cameras?”
“I can’t with you two tonight. I hate the way you treat me. Like I’m a child!”
“We’re only protecting you, sis.” Hustler put his arm around me.
“As you can see, I’m just fine.”
“I don’t like the just-fucked glow on your face,” Spectre growled. “Do you even know his name?”
“Are you implying I’m a slut?”
“If he is, I will kick his fucking ass.” Hustler stood taller to intimidate Spectre.
The elevator doors opened, and I stormed out, not interested in hearing my brother’s response. At
least I could count on Hustler to take my side. He treated me more like an equal than the others ever
had.
It was after midnight, and I was exhausted, so I went to my room with the sound of my brothers’
heavy footsteps following me. If they thought I’d invite them in, they were sorely wrong.
“Are you in for the night?” Hustler asked.
“Yes.” I swung the door open.
“Stay off the fourth floor,” Spectre told me through gritted teeth.
“When did you become such a jerk?”
“When my sister’s safety is involved, that’s all that matters. I’m not here to make friends. Now
stay off the goddamn fourth floor.”
“Or what, Silas? What will you do? I’m a grown, independent woman. Don’t mess with me and
my life, or you will be sorry.” I stabbed my finger into his steel chest.
“Okay, you two. This sibling squabble is over.” Hustler issued a slow wink. “Fair warning. We
will be monitoring the elevators and stairwells more carefully. I know you’ll be safe and smart. See
you tomorrow at the concert.” He clasped the back of Silas’s neck and dragged him away.
I shut the door and sagged against it. “What a bizarre day.”
My brothers didn’t need to worry. I wasn’t going to be seeing Russell Cullen again. Tomorrow my
biggest wish would come true meeting the Flaming Triads. I had VIP passes and a ticket to the after-
party. My brothers would be there as well, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was to meet Flint and
maybe climb the six-foot-four lead singer like a tree and show him I was his ultimate dream girl.
I inhaled deeply when I caught a whiff of a man’s cologne. Shit, my brothers probably smelled it
on me too. Mr. Cocksure had left his scent all over me and the ache between my thighs.
Why did he have to have a heart-stopping face and be a sex god in bed?
Flint was better looking.
And a rock star.
I’d bet Flint could run circles around Russell Cullen and give me an orgasm just from singing one
of his songs.
Yeah, Mr. Cocksure was already forgotten.
 4

Pyro

The bright spotlight above made me sweat like a pig. I tried to not imagine hundreds of screaming
women in the lounge. The performance wasn’t supposed to be like the Flaming Triads’ usual concert
in stadiums and amphitheaters.
Tonight’s show was meant to be small and intimate. It was the only reason I had agreed to fill in
for my buddy, Vapor. We’d been best friends since grade school, and I knew the band’s songs like the
back of my hand.
My heart raced and my chest tightened. Fuck, I needed to hold it together for Vapor. He was
dealing with some heavy shit. I couldn’t let my anxiety and stage fright control me.
You promised Vapor you could play in front of a crowd.
I know!
I breathed and focused on my drum solo. Drum solo… When every pair of eyes would be on me.
Fuck!
I slammed my stick on the cymbal ending, “The Last Song,” ironically the final number in the
lineup.
“Thank you, Fargo!” Flint yelled. “And from there, I’ll give my final speech as always.” He turned
toward me. “You did awesome, man. Vapor would be pleased.” He issued a thumbs up.
I nodded, trying not to bolt to the bathroom and barf up breakfast.
“I knew you had it in you, Pyro,” Singe said, gesturing rock on with his hands. His electric guitar
hung from the strap against his body like a third limb. He was the lead guitarist and a badass doing
riffs.
Flint and Vapor were brothers. I’d known the guys most of my life growing up in California. Singe
and Flint were best friends. We’d started playing music in our garages and basements, but when talk
of forming a band had begun, I had bowed out. A dozen years ago, I’d had a feeling the guys would
become big and known by millions. I’d been right.
They were active on social media and couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized. They never
hide from the world—not like me.
Despite being all kinds of fucked up, I would do my damnedest to fill in for Vapor and the band. I
owed them more than I could ever repay for sticking with me during my dark and suicidal times.
I would never let my buddies down. It wasn’t their fault I suffered from severe anxiety,
depression, and panic attacks. Not their fault Vapor’s girlfriend was in hospice care and not expected
to live another week. I’d trade places with Suri if I could. She and Vapor were meant to be together
forever. Fucking leukemia.
Piper’s gorgeous face flashed behind my eyes. I still tasted her on my tongue. Heard her melodic
moans… And smelled her.
I’d done her a favor when I made her leave. She might not realize it, but I saved her from me.
I’d dialed into the embarrassment in her voice. Sensed her hurt. But I did what needed to be done.
I was too fucked up to be with anyone. I’d only destroy her.
“Pyro, did you hear me?” Flint barked. “I called your name twice, man.”
“What is it?”
Hustler, the manager of the casino, approached. “Tonight, a few extra special guests will be
watching, and two will attend the after-party. I’d appreciate it if everyone would take pictures with
my little sister. She’s your biggest fan.”
“That’s no problem at all. Right, Pyro?” Singe eyed me.
“But I’m only a stand-in tonight. Nobody cares about me.” I didn’t want to be dealing with fans or
attend the party. I would, but I was dreading it.
Baz cleared his throat and joined us on the stage. He was Flint’s and Vapor’s cousin and the
band’s manager. “I agree with Pyro. No one knows him, so he doesn’t need to be there.”
“Awesome.” Good old Baz. I’d have to thank him privately for having my back. We weren’t
exactly close, but we’d known each other as long as I’d known the others. He came from a wealthy
family and fronted the money to get the band going.
“I need him here,” Flint said. “I’m the leader, and I say he stays.”
“Sorry, man.” Baz shrugged.
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but what else could I say? Flint ruled, and I was only the stand-in. I came out
from behind the drums and stalked toward the stairs.
“Where you going?” Flint asked.
“To call Vapor. I need a pep talk,” I shouted back without stopping. I had half a mind to find Piper
to use her as my escape. Sex, drugs, and booze weren’t healthy methods of dealing with my shit, but
they helped.
My blood pressure was on the rise. I had heart palpitations and difficulty breathing.
The fucking concert hadn’t even started. How would I get through the night?
I entered my room, tossed my sticks onto the bed, and went to the mini-fridge. Whiskey would take
the edge off, but I’d need something stronger before getting on stage again.
I dialed Vapor as I guzzled the alcohol. He was expecting my call.
“Hey?” he answered in a whisper.
“If it’s a bad time, I can call back.”
“No, I need a break.”
“How’s she doing?”
“I don’t know. The same, I guess. She sleeps a lot. When she’s awake, she wants me to sing to her
and talk about everything we were supposed to do together. It’s fucking killing me.”
I heard a loud bang. “What was that?”
 “I kicked over a goddamn garbage can outside. I don’t know if I can do this, man.”
“Yes, you can. Not because you have to but because you love Suri.”
He sniffed. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He blew out a breath. “Tell me about you. How are you
holding up?”
“I don’t want you worrying about me.”
“Too late. How’s the anxiety?”
“About a six on my meter. The concert is several hours away.” I paced in my room, squeezing the
phone in my hand. “I know I promised not to go on a binge this weekend. I don’t think I can honor it.
I’m coming apart at the seams. It doesn’t help that I hooked up with a chick last night, and I can’t get
her out of my head.”
“She must’ve been hotter than hot. Did you get her number?”
“No. It’s better if I never see her again.”
“Christ, Russell. You deserve some happiness in your life.”
“I just need a hit. The whiskey I just downed isn’t doing shit. I won’t lose control… Only one
line.”
“Are you asking my permission to have some nose candy?”
“Just a line. I know Singe has some.”
“Fuck. You’ve been clean for seventeen months. Don’t start up again.” Of course he was keeping
track of my sobriety. “If I’d known my absence would make you relapse, I—”
“No, you needed to be with Suri. I’ll be okay.” I had to get through tonight without drugs, or I’d
end up in rehab for the fifth time.
“I say find the chick and work out your stress on her. If you can’t stop thinking about her, there
must’ve been something special about her. The right girl doesn’t come around more than once in a
lifetime. Don’t let her go… Life is too short.” The emotion in his voice gutted me. He was talking
about Suri. Months ago, he’d vowed never to love another.
“Dude, people can fall in love more than once.”
“I will never love another woman. Suri is it for me.”
“I know. I should let you get back to her.” I wasn’t sure why he was pushing me to find Piper when
he refused to ever love again. Our reasons for staying single weren’t all that different. Soon he will
have lost a loved one like me. Luckily for him, he wasn’t the cause of Suri’s death.
“Don’t ask Singe for blow. He’ll give it to you. Get drunk if you need to, or find a woman to suck
you off. Just don’t use. I don’t want to visit you in rehab after Suri dies.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed my eye with my palm. “Okay. I’ll do my best.” But I
wouldn’t promise him shit.
“Call me afterward if you want. I won’t be sleeping until…” His voice trailed.
“You can call me anytime too. I’m here for you.”
“It’s gonna be all right, Russell. Just get into the zone. Keep your eyes on the drums, and never
look up. You can do this.”
I exhaled a heavy breath. “Yeah, I got this.”
“You don’t sound convinced.” He snorted. “I believe in you. Now you need to believe in
yourself.”
“Enough. I’ll talk to you later.” I ended the call before he launched into motivational-speaker
mode.
I didn’t need or want a random woman to suck me off. I removed Piper’s panties from my pocket
and inhaled her addictive scent.
 My cock woke and strained to be released.
I unzipped my jeans and took my dick into my free hand. While smelling Piper’s thong, I wrapped
my hand around my shaft and slowly pumped it.
Her decadence resurfaced on my lips and tongue. So damn sweet and addictive.
She was beautiful and brazen with a take-charge attitude.
Stroking my cock, I rubbed precum around the crown. I ached to come inside her pussy. But she
wasn’t there, so I went into the bathroom and aimed for the toilet bowl.
I got off to the memory of Piper. It wouldn’t be enough. Never be enough. Addicts like me always
needed more, more, more. We were never satisfied, always searching for our next high.
The sooner tonight was over with, the sooner I’d return to California and could forget I ever met
Piper.
 5

Cobra

Hearing the gavel hit the table never got old. Not when my granddad wielded the wooden object I
once thought was a hammer he’d used for killing mosquitos and flies. I’d only been four at the time.
Not long after my fifth birthday, my dad explained how banging the gavel on a hard surface got
people’s attention and made them shut up. And the most crucial part… “Only the president has the
privilege,” he’d said. “One day, you’ll be president, Abe.”
And one day, my son Ace will hold the gavel. Of course he needed to be safely born first and
spend years just being a kid before I groomed him to be president like my old man had done with me.
A throat cleared.
I darted my gaze at Hustler. “Right.” I set the gavel down. “I have a lot on my mind. Let’s get on
with it so I can go get my pregnant wife and take her to the casino.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe
she wants to go.”
“Tell me about it, brother.” Hustler shifted in his chair, appearing irritated. “Hope’s okay with
leaving Cherish with Lady M for a couple of hours. The day our baby girl was born, Hope promised
never to leave her. But seeing the Flaming Triads has changed her tune. I’m not sure how I feel about
it.”
“I feel you. Karma’s in no condition to be in a room with hundreds of people. She should be
thinking of the germs she’ll be exposed to, not which dress to wear. She tosses and turns at night and
complains about being uncomfortable, but she’ll sit in a firm booth for a couple of hours. I don’t get
it.”
“I don’t know what you all are confused about.” Stitch looked at me, then Hustler. “The Flaming
Triads are the hottest men to walk the face of the earth… According to every nurse at the hospital. I
can’t wait until the band leaves North Dakota.”
“Every nurse, aye?” Hustler arched a curious brow. “Does that include Mercy?”
Copter and Gunner chuckled. I was glad to see them smile. After getting the shock of their lives a
few days ago, I had been worried about them. Gunner had flipped out when he heard the baby sister
he’d been told had died was alive. He’d taken off and lost track of Forrest Frat.
“I don’t know.” Stitch narrowed his gaze at Hustler.
“Well, I do.” My asshole brother smiled. Hustler loved to get a rise out of people like Bone had
when he was around.
I hoped to see my wayward brother tomorrow. After church, I’d call him and do my best to
persuade him to come home. It’d been a week since our family had been shaken by the news that Bone
wasn’t Lady M’s biological son. My mom had been distraught following his swift exit. She’d rambled
about killing Bone’s mother, and my brother knew nothing about it. He needed to hear the rest of the
story so our family could heal… So Bone could heal.
“Think whatcha want. I don’t give two fucks if Mercy is panting over the rock stars.” There Stitch
went acting like nothing bothered him. He had iron walls around his heart because he was afraid to
experience love and more loss. Losing both his parents at once had destroyed him.
“Enough,” I growled. “What are we? In middle school? I don’t care if the women are fangirling
over the Flaming Triads. Mine will be going home with me. I suggest the rest of you keep yours close
too.”
Hustler and Buff nodded. Stitch sagged in his chair.
“What about Piper?” Spectre asked. “I saw her ticket to the after-party and Mercy’s.”
“Fuck,” Stitch hissed.
“I thought Reign was going to the party?” Copter asked.
“She is, with me,” Buff replied. “Mercy was just added this morning.”
“Great,” Stitch grumbled.
“I’ve given Piper my permission to enjoy the party. She’s a grown woman. I want her to have fun
after the shit with Forrest Frat.” I pointed my finger at Spectre. “Don’t be a dick. I trust her to make
wise decisions.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Hustler elbowed Spectre. “Don’t be a traitor.”
“What’s going on?” I leaned forward with my hands flat on the table.
“Nothing.” Hustler reclined in his chair.
“I wasn’t asking you. I’m asking Spectre to tell me what he knows. And don’t lie to me.” I couldn’t
handle any more deceit.
“Piper had a one-night stand with a guy she met in the Club Solo bar.” Spectre reached for the
whiskey.
I gritted my teeth. “Do we know who she was with?”
“No,” Hustler replied. “She’s fine. I assured her we wouldn’t go through the video footage.”
“That’s not your call to make.” Why hadn’t those idiots told me about Piper sooner? “I want to
know who she was with.”
“Me too.” Spectre downed his drink.
“I manage Aeros. We are not reviewing the footage.” Hustler crossed his arms over his chest,
holding his ground as always. “You’re the club’s president, that’s it. Aeros is not in your jurisdiction.
Besides, I deleted it.”
“Son of a bitch! You had no right!” I clenched my teeth, fit to be tied. Protecting Piper was our top
priority, and the fool deleted the video.
“Did you at least watch the film first?” Spectre asked.
“Nope,” Hustler replied nonchalantly. “Lady M told me not to.”
“Oh, I see. You asked Mom’s advice and not mine. That’s low.” I almost laughed. Hustler talked
big and acted like the top dog, but he had still gone to our mother for permission. Coward. It shouldn’t
surprise me. Lady M had struck the fear of God in all of us at one time or another.
“Hell, yes, I did. I’m no fool.”
“That’s debatable.” Buff shook his head. “I’ll keep an eye on Piper at the party.”
“Fine.” I was quickly over my brothers keeping Piper’s hookup from me. I had more important
things to worry about, like calling Bone. “Just don’t let her leave with anyone, and make sure she gets
to her room safely.”
“You got it, boss.” Buff nodded sharply.
“Great.” I hit the gavel on the table to end church. My brothers filed out, except for Copter and
Gunner. They knew I would be calling Bone after everyone left. “You’re not staying while I call
Bone.”
“We understand.” Copter scratched his scruffy chin. “We were just wondering what you’re going
to tell him.”
“Well, nothing about you two being Destiny’s brothers. That should only be said in person,
dontcha think?”
They nodded.
“Good.” I turned toward Gunner. “You doing all right?”
“Yes, prez. I’m really sorry I lost track of Forrest.”
“I know.”
“We’re going to search all night,” Copter told me in a determined tone. “He’s gotta be in Fargo.”
“I’m sure he is. I’ve thought about the situation a lot. He might be planning his next move now that
he’s not being tailed.” My stomach twisted. We had extra men at Aeros because of the concert, so I
wasn’t worried about the casino. Wherever Piper went, she had protection, and the farm was also
heavily guarded. “He’s unpredictable and arrogant. We need to be ready for anything.”
“Do you think he has help?” Gunner asked.
“From what Grizzly found, he’s pretty much a loner. No friends. He’s estranged from his family.
He spends a lot of time playing video games.”
“Gamers can be dangerous.” Copter went to the door. “We need to find him before he hurts
someone.”
“Agreed.” I nodded.
The Goode brothers left and closed the door behind them.
I took a minute to breathe and gather my thoughts, then dialed Bone’s number.
“It’s only been a goddamn hot second since I left, and you’re already calling.” Bone sighed. “What
do you want?”
“How are you?”
“Alive.”
“Come on. Don’t be a jerk.”
He sighed again. “I’m processing. Got a lotta shit on my mind.”
“I’m sure you do. Y’know, the best place to start is by making amends.”
“And now I’m hanging up on you. I do not want to talk about Lady M.”
“Don’t hang up,” I shouted. “I have news about Destiny.”
“What news?” His voice took on a protective edge.
“I need you to bring her to the farm.”
“Why? Is this a trick? I will disown you if you’re using her to get me alone with Lady M.”
“That’s not my style, brother. It’s yours.”
 “I suppose you’re right.” Bone paused for a second. “But you want me to talk to Lady M, don’t
you?”
“Yes. But I’m not going to force anything.” Of course I wanted to make him do the right thing, but it
wasn’t my place. “Don’t do it for her, do it for you and the rest of us. If too much time passes, you’ll
never come back home.”
“I know, but you gotta give me more information about Destiny. Why do you want us at the farm?”
“Not over the phone, Bone. It’s big and about her past.”
“Fuck. I’ve been so wrapped up in my misery that I hadn’t thought much about her.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s a nice woman, and you’re—”
“A selfish asshole. Fuck, I’m horrible with women.”
I wasn’t going to say that, but I wasn’t about to argue. My brother had a lot of scars and emotional
damage to work through. He might not be the right person for Destiny. “What’s the deal between the
two of you?”
“We’re friends, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“We take care of each other’s needs.”
“Okay, so like friends with benefits. But do you care about her?”
“Sure.”
“You gonna claim her?”
“No.”
“Then why be with her? You’re just going to confuse her or break her heart.”
“We aren’t romantically involved. No hearts are on the line.”
I laughed. “You don’t know women at all, do you?”
“Guess not. I don’t know why I brought her with me. I’m no good for her, yet she insists on being
here. She says she loves Montana. So I let her stay when I should cut her loose.”
“Well, don’t cut her loose until after you bring her to the farm. But I think you should at least
discuss it with her first. She has a right to choose who she’s with.”
“She’s not with me. We’re friends.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” I heard it in his voice. He was in deep with Destiny. Perhaps they
were good for each other. Or he’d break her heart. Or she’d break his. I rubbed my temple, feeling a
headache coming on. “When can you be here?”
“Tomorrow afternoon, if that’s early enough for you?”
“It is.”
“I don’t like being in the dark. You better not be fucking with us.”
“I’m not. I’ll see you and Destiny tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” He ended the call, and damn, was I relieved.
I didn’t do well talking about relationships, not like my old man could. I was lucky as hell to have
Karma at my side. She could figure everything out, and I never had to say a word. That was how well
she knew me. Speaking of my gorgeous wife…
I got to my feet and headed home to her and our spunky daughter. A lot of shit could go wrong
tomorrow when Bone and Destiny arrive. I needed to get in some good times with my girls in case the
shit hits the fan tomorrow. There were too many possibilities with Forrest on the loose and Bone
seeing Lady M.
I needed to be prepared for anything.
When can I get some peace and quiet around here?
 6

Piper

My heart galloped against my ribs with anticipation. I still couldn’t believe the Flaming Triads were
here and I’d get to meet them after the show. Being a biker princess definitely had its perks… Even if
my position in my family made me frustrated and angry at times.
Civilians would never understand my plight as the youngest and only girl in an MC family.
Overall, I wouldn’t change a thing.
“Piper!”
I turned to the side and saw Emilee and Dodge heading my way. I slid out of the half-circle booth
and wrapped my arms around my dearest friend. “Oh my gosh, I am so happy to see you, mama.”
“Me too! Danny made my year when he announced we were coming to the concert. Thank you, by
the way, for twisting his arm.”
“I’d do anything for you, Em.” I pulled back and returned to my spot beside Mercy. “How’s it
going, Dodge?”
“Good.” He kissed Emilee. “My eyes will never leave you,” he whispered, then left.
Emilee fanned her face. “Mr. Protective, you know.”
“I envy the love you two share.” Sort of envied. Em and Dodge were a little too sugary sweet for
me. I needed something different, but those two were chef’s kiss perfection. “How’s my little man,
Dante, and baby Demi? It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen them.”
“They’re great and keep us busy. But Danny and I love being parents. It’s crazy how our club has
exploded with babies… I love it.” She smiled sweetly.
“What can I get you, hon?” a server asked Emilee.
“A glass of Moscato, please.” Her cheeks turned pink. “Danny told me to let loose and drink all I
want tonight. At home, I refrain from drinking around the kids.”
“You’re a saint.”
“Stop.” She elbowed me. “So, what’s new with you? Any special someone in your life?” She
waggled her brows.
 “Nope. Single as always.”
“Are your brothers scaring guys away? They need to back off, or you’ll never find someone.”
“Tell me about it. Lady M gets on them about hovering. Hustler has relaxed. The others haven’t.” I
twisted my lips and raised my old fashion to my lips. “I’m cursed to be single forever.”
“Nothing wrong with being single,” Mercy said. “Why would you want to give up your
independence for a bossy, over-the-top protective man? I don’t understand that line of thinking.”
“For top-notch sex, of course.” I laughed and popped a maraschino cherry into my mouth.
“What she said.” Emilee pointed at me.
“Aren’t they suffocating? There’s more to life than sex.” Mercy shook her head.
“No, there’s not,” Emilee and I replied simultaneously. We looked at each other and giggled.
“Don’t you want children?” Emilee asked Mercy.
“Yes, someday. But I don’t need a man to have a baby.”
“Don’t listen to her. She’s being stubborn because Stitch is after her. Doctor McHottie is
relentless,” Hope shouted from Mercy’s side. They were best friends, so if anyone knew what the
goings on were with Mercy, it would be Hope.
“I thought something was going on with Stitch and Mercy.”
“No, nothing is going on.” Mercy grabbed a pretzel from the bowl on the table. “Bikers aren’t my
thing.”
The lights in the lounge flickered, and spotlights illuminated the stage.
“Oh my gosh, it’s starting!” I clapped my hands and wiggled my ass on the seat.
Flint took to the stage. My heart instantly stopped when his incredible voice filled the room.
“Hello, Fargo! I’m Flint, as you probably know, the leader of the Flaming Triads.”
I screamed with every other woman in the building. If I wasn’t blocked in by my friends, I’d be
kissing Flint’s feet on that stage. And any other body part he wanted my mouth on…
“My crew and I are ready to give you a fucking fantastic show. Are you ready for us?”
More screaming.
More clapping.
More heart-pounding excitement.
Flint pointed to his right. “You know, Singe. He’s my closest friend, right-hand man, and the best
guitarist on the planet!”
The crowd went wild.
He pointed behind him. “This guy is a new face. My brother Vapor couldn’t make it tonight for
personal reasons. He sends his apologies and promises to catch you at the next concert. But don’t
worry. Pyro is here to fill in, and you will not be disappointed. Show ’em what you got.”
The drummer went nuts on the drums.
I blinked and squinted my eyes. Was it? It couldn’t be.
“Give it up for Pyro!” Flint yelled.
Pyro stood, waved his sticks in the air, and sat back down.
“Holy fuck! It’s Russell! Mr. Cocksure!”
“Who?” the girls at the table asked in unison.
“My hookup last night!” I grabbed my drink and downed it. “He told me his name is Russell.”
The girls clapped and cheered for me.
“I’m so glad I convinced Abe to let me come.” Karma shifted her pregnant body for a better view.
“How could he lie to me?” I glared at the sexy SOB.
“He didn’t,” Emilee said. “Pyro must be his stage name.”
Another random document with
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CONTENTS
 PAGE
Introduction v

PART I
NAVAL PRINCIPLES
1. The Value of Historical Study 3
2. “Theoretical” versus “Practical” Training 8
A Historical Instance 8
What is Practical? 10
3. Elements of Sea Power 16
4. Definition of Terms: Strategy, Tactics, Logistics 49
5. Fundamental Principles 50
Central Position, Interior Lines, Communications 50
Concentration 60
6. Strategic Positions 68
I. Situation 69
II. Military Strength 70
III. Resources 74
7. Strategic Lines 75
Communications 75
Importance of Sea Communications 76
8. Offensive Operations 79
9. The Value of the Defensive 87
10. Commerce-Destroying and Blockade 91
Command of the Sea Decisive 98
11. Strategic Features of the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean 100
12. Principles of Naval Administration 113
Opposing Elements 113
The British System 118
The United States System 122
13. The Military Rule of Obedience 125
14. Preparedness for Naval War 128

PART II
SEA POWER IN HISTORY
15. A Nation Exhausted by Isolation 137
 France under Louis XIV 137
16. The Growth of British Sea Power 141
England after the Peace of Utrecht, 1715 141
17. Results of the Seven Years’ War 147
18. Eighteenth Century Formalism in Naval Tactics 155
19. The New Tactics 159
Rodney and De Guichen, April 17, 1780 159
20. Sea Power in the American Revolution 164
Graves and De Grasse off the Chesapeake 164
21. The French Navy Demoralized by the Revolution 171
22. Howe’s Victory of June 1, 1794 175
23. Nelson’s Strategy at Copenhagen 184
24. England’s First Line of Defense 191
25. The Battle of Trafalgar 196
“The Nelson Touch” 200
The Battle 208
Commerce Warfare after Trafalgar 223
26. General Strategy of the War of 1812 229
Results of the Northern Campaign 235
27. Lessons of the War with Spain 241
The Possibilities of a “Fleet in Being” 241
28. The Santiago Blockade 250
29. “Fleet in Being” and “Fortress Fleet” 256
The Port Arthur Squadron in the Russo-Japanese War 256
Divided Forces 269
30. Rozhestvensky at Tsushima 276

PART III
NAVAL AND NATIONAL POLICIES
31. Expansion and Over-Sea Bases 285
The Annexation of Hawaii 285
32. Application of the Monroe Doctrine 288
Anglo-American Community of Interests 288
33. Changes in the United States and Japan 296
34. Our Interests in the Pacific 299
35. The German State and its Menace 302
The Bulwark of British Sea Power 306
36. Advantages of Insular Position 309
Great Britain and the Continental Powers 309
37. Bearing of Political Developments on Naval Policy and
Strategy 317
38. Seizure of Private Property at Sea 328
39. The Moral Aspect of War 342
40. The Practical Aspect of War 348
41. Motives for Naval Power 355
APPENDIX
Chronological Outline 359
Academic Honors 360
Published Works 361
Uncollected Essays 362
References 362
INDEX 365
 LIST OF MAPS AND PLANS

PAGE
Diagram Illustrating the Value of the Central 54
Position
Gulf of Mexico and Caribbean Sea 101
Rodney and Guichen, April 17, 1780 161
Graves and De Grasse, September 5, 1781 167
The Baltic and Its Approaches Facing page 185
North Atlantic Ocean Facing page 197
The Attack at Trafalgar 214
Scene of Naval War, Japan and Russia 278
 PART I
NAVAL PRINCIPLES
 MAHAN

ON NAVAL WARFARE

I. The Value of Historical Study[13]

The history of Sea Power is largely, though by no means solely, a

narrative of contests between nations, of mutual rivalries, of violence
frequently culminating in war. The profound influence of sea
commerce upon the wealth and strength of countries was clearly
seen long before the true principles which governed its growth and
prosperity were detected. To secure to one’s own people a
disproportionate share of such benefits, every effort was made to
exclude others, either by the peaceful legislative methods of
monopoly or prohibitory regulations, or, when these failed, by direct
violence. The clash of interests, the angry feelings roused by
conflicting attempts thus to appropriate the larger share, if not the
whole, of the advantages of commerce, and of distant unsettled
commercial regions, led to wars. On the other hand, wars arising
from other causes have been greatly modified in their conduct and
issue by the control of the sea. Therefore the history of sea power,
while embracing in its broad sweep all that tends to make a people
great upon the sea or by the sea, is largely a military history; and it is
in this aspect that it will be mainly, though not exclusively, regarded
in the following pages.
 A study of the military history of the past, such as this, is enjoined
by great military leaders as essential to correct ideas and to the
skillful conduct of war in the future. Napoleon names among the
campaigns to be studied by the aspiring soldier, those of Alexander,
Hannibal, and Cæsar, to whom gunpowder was unknown; and there
is a substantial agreement among professional writers that, while
many of the conditions of war vary from age to age with the progress
of weapons, there are certain teachings in the school of history which
remain constant, and being, therefore, of universal application, can
be elevated to the rank of general principles. For the same reason the
study of the sea history of the past will be found instructive, by its
illustration of the general principles of maritime war,
notwithstanding the great changes that have been brought about in
naval weapons by the scientific advances of the past half-century,
and by the introduction of steam as the motive power. [The pages
omitted point out lessons to be drawn from galley and sailing-ship
warfare.—Editor.]
Before hostile armies or fleets are brought into contact (a word
which perhaps better than any other indicates the dividing line
between tactics and strategy), there are a number of questions to be
decided, covering the whole plan of operations throughout the
theater of war. Among these are the proper function of the navy in
the war; its true objective; the point or points upon which it should
be concentrated; the establishment of depots of coal and supplies;
the maintenance of communications between these depots and the
home base; the military value of commerce-destroying as a decisive
or a secondary operation of war; the system upon which commerce-
destroying can be most efficiently conducted, whether by scattered
cruisers or by holding in force some vital center through which
commercial shipping must pass. All these are strategic questions,
and upon all these history has a great deal to say. There has been of
late a valuable discussion in English naval circles as to the
comparative merits of the policies of two great English admirals,
Lord Howe and Lord St. Vincent, in the disposition of the English
navy when at war with France. The question is purely strategic, and
is not of mere historical interest; it is of vital importance now, and
the principles upon which its decision rests are the same now as
then. St. Vincent’s policy saved England from invasion, and in the
hands of Nelson and his brother admirals led straight up to
Trafalgar.
It is then particularly in the field of naval strategy that the
teachings of the past have a value which is in no degree lessened.
They are there useful not only as illustrative of principles, but also as
precedents, owing to the comparative permanence of the conditions.
This is less obviously true as to tactics, when the fleets come into
collision at the point to which strategic considerations have brought
them. The unresting progress of mankind causes continual change in
the weapons; and with that must come a continual change in the
manner of fighting,—in the handling and disposition of troops or
ships on the battlefield. Hence arises a tendency on the part of many
connected with maritime matters to think that no advantage is to be
gained from the study of former experiences; that time so used is
wasted. This view, though natural, not only leaves wholly out of sight
those broad strategic considerations which lead nations to put fleets
afloat, which direct the sphere of their action, and so have modified
and will continue to modify the history of the world, but is one-sided
and narrow even as to tactics. The battles of the past succeeded or
failed according as they were fought in conformity with the
principles of war; and the seaman who carefully studies the causes of
success or failure will not only detect and gradually assimilate these
principles, but will also acquire increased aptitude in applying them
to the tactical use of the ships and weapons of his own day. He will
observe also that changes of tactics have not only taken place after
changes in weapons, which necessarily is the case, but that the
interval between such changes has been unduly long. This doubtless
arises from the fact that an improvement of weapons is due to the
energy of one or two men, while changes in tactics have to overcome
the inertia of a conservative class; but it is a great evil. It can be
remedied only by a candid recognition of each change, by careful
study of the powers and limitations of the new ship or weapon, and
by a consequent adaptation of the method of using it to the qualities
it possesses, which will constitute its tactics. History shows that it is
vain to hope that military men generally will be at the pains to do
this, but that the one who does will go into battle with a great
advantage,—a lesson in itself of no mean value.
 2. “Theoretical” versus “Practical” Training[14].

A Historical Instance

There have long been two conflicting opinions as to the best way to
fit naval officers, and indeed all men called to active pursuits, for the
discharge of their duties. The one, of the so-called practical man,
would find in early beginning and constant remaining afloat all that
is requisite; the other will find the best result in study, in elaborate
mental preparation. I have no hesitation in avowing that personally I
think that the United States Navy is erring on the latter side; but, be
that as it may, there seems little doubt that the mental activity which
exists so widely is not directed toward the management of ships in
battle, to the planning of naval campaigns, to the study of strategic
and tactical problems, nor even to the secondary matters connected
with the maintenance of warlike operations at sea.[15] Now we have
had the results of the two opinions as to the training of naval officers
pretty well tested by the experience of two great maritime nations,
France and England, each of which, not so much by formulated
purpose as by national bias, committed itself unduly to the one or the
other. The results were manifested in our War of Independence,
which gave rise to the only well-contested, widespread maritime war
between nearly equal forces that modern history records. There
remains in my own mind no doubt, after reading the naval history on
both sides, that the English brought to this struggle much superior
seamanship, learned by the constant practice of shipboard; while the
French officers, most of whom had been debarred from similar
experience by the decadence of their navy in the middle of the
century, had devoted themselves to the careful study of their
profession. In short, what are commonly called the practical and the
theoretical man were pitted against each other, and the result
showed how mischievous is any plan which neglects either theory or
practice, or which ignores the fact that correct theoretical ideas are
essential to successful practical work. The practical seamanship and
experience of the English were continually foiled by the want of
correct tactical conceptions on the part of their own chiefs, and the
superior science of the French, acquired mainly by study. It is true
that the latter were guided by a false policy on the part of their
government and a false professional tradition. The navy, by its
mobility, is pre-eminently fitted for offensive war, and the French
deliberately and constantly subordinated it to defensive action. But,
though the system was faulty, they had a system; they had ideas; they
had plans familiar to their officers, while the English usually had
none—and a poor system is better than none at all....

What is Practical?

It was said to me by some one: “If you want to attract officers to

the College, give them something that will help them pass their next
examination.” But the test of war, when it comes, will be found a
more searching trial of what is in a man than the verdict of several
amiable gentlemen, disposed to give the benefit of every doubt. Then
you will encounter men straining every faculty and every means to
injure you. Shall we then, who prepare so anxiously for an
examination, view as a “practical” proceeding, worthy of “practical”
men, the postponing to the very moment of imperative action the
consideration of how to act, how to do our fighting, either in the
broader domain of strategy, or in the more limited field of tactics,
whether of the single ship or of the fleet? Navies exist for war; and
the question presses for an answer: “Is this neglect to master the
experience of the past, to elicit, formulate, and absorb its principles,
is it practical?” Is it “practical” to wait till the squall strikes you
before shortening sail? If the object and aim of the College is to
promote such study, to facilitate such results, to foster and
disseminate such ideas, can it be reproached that its purpose is not
“practical,” even though at first its methods be tentative and its
results imperfect?
The word “practical” has suffered and been debased by a
misapprehension of that other word “theoretical,” to which it is
accurately and logically opposed. Theory is properly defined as a
scheme of things which terminates in speculation, or contemplation,
without a view to practice. The idea was amusingly expressed in the
toast, said to have been drunk at a meeting of mathematicians,
“Eternal perdition to the man who would degrade pure mathematics
by applying it to any useful purpose.” The word “theoretical,”
therefore, is applied rightly and legitimately only to mental processes
that end in themselves, that have no result in action; but by a
natural, yet most unfortunate, confusion of thought, it has come to
be applied to all mental processes whatsoever, whether fruitful or
not, and has transferred its stigma to them, while “practical” has
walked off with all the honors of a utilitarian age.
If therefore the line of thought, study and reflection, which the
War College seeks to promote, is really liable to the reproach that it
leads to no useful end, can result in no effective action, it falls justly
under the condemnation of being not “practical.” But it must be said
frankly and fearlessly that the man who is prepared to apply this
stigma to the line of the College effort must also be prepared to class
as not “practical” men like Napoleon, like his distinguished
opponent, the Austrian Archduke Charles, and like Jomini, the
profuse writer on military art and military history, whose works, if
somewhat supplanted by newer digests, have lost little or none of
their prestige as a profound study and exposition of the principles of
warfare.
Jomini was not merely a military theorist, who saw war from the
outside; he was a distinguished and thoughtful soldier, in the prime
of life during the Napoleonic wars, and of a contemporary reputation
such that, when he deserted the cause of the emperor, he was taken
at once into a high position as a confidential adviser of the allied
sovereigns. Yet what does he say of strategy? Strategy is to him the
queen of military sciences; it underlies the fortunes of every
campaign. As in a building, which, however fair and beautiful the
superstructure, is radically marred and imperfect if the foundation
be insecure—so, if the strategy be wrong, the skill of the general on
the battlefield, the valor of the soldier, the brilliancy of victory,
however otherwise decisive, fail of their effect. Yet how does he
define strategy, the effects of which, if thus far-reaching, must surely
be esteemed “practical”? “Strategy,” he said, “is the art of making war
upon the map. It precedes the operations of the campaign, the clash
of arms on the field. It is done in the cabinet, it is the work of the
student, with his dividers in his hand and his information lying
beside him.” In other words, it originates in a mental process, but it
does not end there; therefore it is practical.
 Most of us have heard an anecdote of the great Napoleon, which is
nevertheless so apt to my purpose that I must risk the repetition.
Having had no time to verify my reference, I must quote from
memory, but of substantial accuracy I am sure. A few weeks before
one of his early and most decisive campaigns, his secretary,
Bourrienne, entered the office and found the First Consul, as he then
was, stretched on the floor with a large map before him. Pricked over
the map, in what to Bourrienne was confusion, were a number of red
and black pins. After a short silence the secretary, who was an old
friend of school days, asked him what it all meant. The Consul
laughed goodnaturedly, called him a fool, and said: “This set of pins
represents the Austrians and this the French. On such a day I shall
leave Paris. My troops will then be in such positions. On a certain
day,” naming it, “I shall be here,” pointing, “and my troops will have
moved there. At such a time I shall cross the mountains, a few days
later my army will be here, the Austrians will have done thus and so;
and at a certain date I will beat them here,” placing a pin. Bourrienne
said nothing, perhaps he may have thought the matter not
“practical;” but a few weeks later, after the battle (Marengo, I think)
had been fought, he was seated with the general in his military
traveling carriage. The programme had been carried out, and he
recalled the incident to Bonaparte’s mind. The latter himself smiled
at the singular accuracy of his predictions in the particular instance.
In the light of such an incident, the question I would like to pose
will receive of course but one answer. Was the work on which the
general was engaged in his private office, this work of a student, was
it “practical”? Or can it by any reasonable method be so divorced
from what followed, that the word “practical” only applies farther on.
Did he only begin to be practical when he got into his carriage to
drive from the Tuileries, or did the practical begin when he joined
the army, or when the first gun of the campaign was fired? Or, on the
other hand, if he had passed that time, given to studying the
campaign, in arranging for a new development of the material of war,
and so had gone with his plans undeveloped, would he not have done
a thing very far from “practical”?
But we must push our inquiry a little farther back to get the full
significance of Bourrienne’s story. Whence came the facility and
precision with which Bonaparte planned the great campaign of
Marengo? Partly, unquestionably, from a native genius rarely
paralleled; partly, but not by any means wholly. Hear his own
prescription: “If any man will be a great general, let him study.”
Study what? “Study history. Study the campaigns of the great
generals—Alexander, Hannibal, Cæsar” (who never smelt
gunpowder, nor dreamed of ironclads) “as well as those of Turenne,
Frederick, and myself, Napoleon.” Had Bonaparte entered his
cabinet to plan the campaign of Marengo, with no other preparation
than his genius, without the mental equipment and the ripened
experience that came from knowledge of the past, acquired by study,
he would have come unprepared. Were, then, his previous study and
reflection, for which the time of action had not come, were they not
“practical,” because they did not result in immediate action? Would
they even have been “not practical” if the time for action had never
come to him?
As the wise man said, “There is a time for everything under the
sun,” and the time for one thing cannot be used as the time for
another. That there is time for action, all concede; few consider duly
that there is also a time for preparation. To use the time of
preparation for preparation is practical, whatever the method; to
postpone preparation to the time for action is not practical. Our new
navy is preparing now; it can scarcely be said, as regards its material,
to be yet ready. The day of grace is still with us—or with those who
shall be the future captains and admirals. There is time yet for study;
there is time to imbibe the experience of the past, to become imbued,
steeped, in the eternal principles of war, by the study of its history
and of the maxims of its masters. But the time of preparation will
pass; some day the time of action will come. Can an admiral then sit
down and re-enforce his intellectual grasp of the problem before him
by a study of history, which is simply a study of past experience? Not
so; the time of action is upon him, and he must trust to his horse
sense.
 3. Elements of Sea Power[16]

The first and most obvious light in which the sea presents itself from
the political and social point of view is that of a great highway; or
better, perhaps, of a wide common, over which men may pass in all
directions, but on which some well-worn paths show that controlling
reasons have led them to choose certain lines of travel rather than
others. These lines of travel are called trade routes; and the reasons
which have determined them are to be sought in the history of the
world.
Notwithstanding all the familiar and unfamiliar dangers of the sea,
both travel and traffic by water have always been easier and cheaper
than by land. The commercial greatness of Holland was due not only
to her shipping at sea, but also to the numerous tranquil water-ways
which gave such cheap and easy access to her own interior and to
that of Germany. This advantage of carriage by water over that by
land was yet more marked in a period when roads were few and very
bad, wars frequent and society unsettled, as was the case two
hundred years ago. Sea traffic then went in peril of robbers, but was
nevertheless safer and quicker than that by land. A Dutch writer of
that time, estimating the chances of his country in a war with
England, notices among other things that the water-ways of England
failed to penetrate the country sufficiently; therefore, the roads being
bad, goods from one part of the kingdom to the other must go by sea,
and be exposed to capture by the way. As regards purely internal
trade, this danger has generally disappeared at the present day. In
most civilized countries, now, the destruction or disappearance of
the coasting-trade would only be an inconvenience, although water
transit is still the cheaper. Nevertheless, as late as the wars of the
French Republic and the First Empire, those who are familiar with
the history of the period, and the light naval literature that has grown
up around it, know how constant is the mention of convoys stealing
from point to point along the French coast, although the sea
swarmed with English cruisers and there were good inland roads.
Under modern conditions, however, home trade is but a part of the
business of a country bordering on the sea. Foreign necessaries or
luxuries must be brought to its ports, either in its own or in foreign
ships, which will return, bearing in exchange the products of the
country, whether they be the fruits of the earth or the works of men’s
hands; and it is the wish of every nation that this shipping business
should be done by its own vessels. The ships that thus sail to and fro
must have secure ports to which to return, and must, as far as
possible, be followed by the protection of their country throughout
the voyage.
This protection in time of war must be extended by armed
shipping. The necessity of a navy, in the restricted sense of the word,
springs, therefore, from the existence of a peaceful shipping, and
disappears with it,[17] except in the case of a nation which has
aggressive tendencies, and keeps up a navy merely as a branch of the
military establishment. As the United States has at present no
aggressive purposes, and as its merchant service has disappeared,
the dwindling of the armed fleet and general lack of interest in it are
strictly logical consequences. When for any reason sea trade is again
found to pay, a large enough shipping interest will reappear to
compel the revival of the war fleet. It is possible that when a canal
route through the Central-American Isthmus is seen to be a near
certainty, the aggressive impulse may be strong enough to lead to the
same result. This is doubtful, however, because a peaceful, gain-
loving nation is not far-sighted, and far-sightedness is needed for
adequate military preparation, especially in these days.
As a nation, with its unarmed and armed shipping, launches forth
from its own shores, the need is soon felt of points upon which the
ships can rely for peaceful trading, for refuge and supplies. In the
present day friendly, though foreign, ports are to be found all over
the world; and their shelter is enough while peace prevails. It was not
always so, nor does peace always endure, though the United States
have been favored by so long a continuance of it. In earlier times the
merchant seaman, seeking for trade in new and unexplored regions,
made his gains at risk of life and liberty from suspicious or hostile
nations, and was under great delays in collecting a full and profitable
freight. He therefore intuitively sought at the far end of his trade
route one or more stations, to be given to him by force or favor,
where he could fix himself or his agents in reasonable security, where
his ships could lie in safety, and where the merchantable products of
the land could be continually collecting, awaiting the arrival of the
home fleet, which should carry them to the mother-country. As there
was immense gain, as well as much risk, in these early voyages, such
establishments naturally multiplied and grew until they became
colonies; whose ultimate development and success depended upon
the genius and policy of the nation from which they sprang, and form
a very great part of the history, and particularly of the sea history, of
the world. All colonies had not the simple and natural birth and
growth above described. Many were more formal, and purely
political, in their conception and founding, the act of the rulers of the
people rather than of private individuals; but the trading-station
with its after expansion, the work simply of the adventurer seeking
gain, was in its reasons and essence the same as the elaborately
organized and chartered colony. In both cases the mother-country
had won a foothold in a foreign land, seeking a new outlet for what it
had to sell, a new sphere for its shipping, more employment for its
people, more comfort and wealth for itself.
The needs of commerce, however, were not all provided for when
safety had been secured at the far end of the road. The voyages were
long and dangerous, the seas often beset with enemies. In the most
active days of colonizing there prevailed on the sea a lawlessness the
very memory of which is now almost lost, and the days of settled
peace between maritime nations were few and far between. Thus
arose the demand for stations along the road, like the Cape of Good
Hope, St. Helena, and Mauritius, not primarily for trade, but for
defense and war; the demand for the possession of posts like
Gibraltar, Malta, Louisburg, at the entrance of the Gulf of St.
Lawrence,—posts whose value was chiefly strategic, though not
necessarily wholly so. Colonies and colonial posts were sometimes
commercial, sometimes military in their character; and it was
exceptional that the same position was equally important in both
points of view, as New York was.
In these three things—production, with the necessity of
exchanging products, shipping, whereby the exchange is carried on,
and colonies, which facilitate and enlarge the operations of shipping
and tend to protect it by multiplying points of safety—is to be found
the key to much of the history, as well as of the policy, of nations
bordering upon the sea. The policy has varied both with the spirit of
the age and with the character and clear-sightedness of the rulers;
but the history of the seaboard nations has been less determined by
the shrewdness and foresight of governments than by conditions of
position, extent, configuration, number and character of their
people,—by what are called, in a word, natural conditions. It must
however be admitted, and will be seen, that the wise or unwise action
of individual men has at certain periods had a great modifying
influence upon the growth of sea power in the broad sense, which
includes not only the military strength afloat, that rules the sea or
any part of it by force of arms, but also the peaceful commerce and
shipping from which alone a military fleet naturally and healthfully
springs, and on which it securely rests.
The principal conditions affecting the sea power of nations may be
enumerated as follows: I. Geographical Position. II. Physical
Conformation, including, as connected therewith, natural
productions and climate. III. Extent of Territory. IV. Number of
Population. V. Character of the People. VI. Character of the
Government, including therein the national institutions.

I. Geographical Position.—It may be pointed out, in the first place,

that if a nation be so situated that it is neither forced to defend itself
by land nor induced to seek extension of its territory by way of the
land, it has, by the very unity of its aim directed upon the sea, an
advantage as compared with a people one of whose boundaries is
continental. This has been a great advantage to England over both
France and Holland as a sea power. The strength of the latter was
early exhausted by the necessity of keeping up a large army and
carrying on expensive wars to preserve her independence; while the
policy of France was constantly diverted, sometimes wisely and
sometimes most foolishly, from the sea to projects of continental
extension. These military efforts expended wealth; whereas a wiser
and consistent use of her geographical position would have added to
it.
The geographical position may be such as of itself to promote a
concentration, or to necessitate a dispersion, of the naval forces.
Here again the British Islands have an advantage over France. The
position of the latter, touching the Mediterranean as well as the
ocean, while it has its advantages, is on the whole a source of military
weakness at sea. The eastern and western French fleets have only
been able to unite after passing through the Straits of Gibraltar, in
attempting which they have often risked and sometimes suffered
loss. The position of the United States upon the two oceans would be
either a source of great weakness or a cause of enormous expense,
had it a large sea commerce on both coasts.[18]
England, by her immense colonial empire, has sacrificed much of
this advantage of concentration of force around her own shores; but
the sacrifice was wisely made, for the gain was greater than the loss,
as the event proved. With the growth of her colonial system her war
fleets also grew, but her merchant shipping and wealth grew yet
faster. Still, in the wars of the American Revolution, and of the
French Republic and Empire, to use the strong expression of a
French author, “England, despite the immense development of her
navy, seemed ever, in the midst of riches, to feel all the
embarrassment of poverty.” The might of England was sufficient to
keep alive the heart and the members; whereas the equally extensive
colonial empire of Spain, through her maritime weakness, but
offered so many points for insult and injury.
The geographical position of a country may not only favor the
concentration of its forces, but give the further strategic advantage of
a central position and a good base for hostile operations against its
probable enemies. This again is the case with England; on the one
hand she faces Holland and the northern powers, on the other
France and the Atlantic. When threatened with a coalition between
France and the naval powers of the North Sea and the Baltic, as she
at times was, her fleets in the Downs and in the Channel, and even
that off Brest, occupied interior positions, and thus were readily able
to interpose their united force against either one of the enemies
which should seek to pass through the Channel to effect a junction
with its ally. On either side, also, Nature gave her better ports and a
safer coast to approach. Formerly this was a very serious element in
the passage through the Channel; but of late, steam and the
improvement of her harbors have lessened the disadvantage under
which France once labored. In the days of sailing-ships, the English
fleet operated against Brest, making its base at Torbay and
Plymouth. The plan was simply this: in easterly or moderate weather
the blockading fleet kept its position without difficulty; but in
westerly gales, when too severe, they bore up for English ports,
knowing that the French fleet could not get out till the wind shifted,
which equally served to bring them back to their station.
The advantage of geographical nearness to an enemy, or to the
object of attack, is nowhere more apparent than in that form of
warfare which has lately received the name of commerce-destroying,
which the French call guerre de course. This operation of war, being
directed against peaceful merchant vessels which are usually
defenseless, calls for ships of small military force. Such ships, having
little power to defend themselves, need a refuge or point of support
near at hand; which will be found either in certain parts of the sea
controlled by the fighting ships of their country, or in friendly
harbors. The latter give the strongest support, because they are
always in the same place, and the approaches to them are more
familiar to the commerce-destroyer than to his enemy. The nearness
of France to England has thus greatly facilitated her guerre de course
directed against the latter. Having ports on the North Sea, on the
Channel, and on the Atlantic, her cruisers started from points near
the focus of English trade, both coming and going. The distance of
these ports from each other, disadvantageous for regular military
combinations, is an advantage for this irregular secondary operation;
for the essence of the one is concentration of effort, whereas for
commerce-destroying diffusion of effort is the rule. Commerce
destroyers scatter, that they may see and seize more prey. These
truths receive illustration from the history of the great French
privateers, whose bases and scenes of action were largely on the
Channel and North Sea, or else were found in distant colonial
regions, where islands like Guadeloupe and Martinique afforded
similar near refuge. The necessity of renewing coal makes the cruiser
of the present day even more dependent than of old on his port.
Public opinion in the United States has great faith in war directed
against an enemy’s commerce; but it must be remembered that the
Republic has no ports very near the great centers of trade abroad.
Her geographical position is therefore singularly disadvantageous for
carrying on successful commerce-destroying, unless she find bases in
the ports of an ally.
If, in addition to facility for offense, Nature has so placed a country
that it has easy access to the high sea itself, while at the same time it
controls one of the great thoroughfares of the world’s traffic, it is