publicity of hundreds of other details. When there is apparently nothing to find out, curiosity is disarmed, and of half a dozen conflicting reports any one may be true or false. If a fleet puts to sea in war time, it is the simplest thing in the world to conceal the actual destination and allow everyone to mention the goal that he happens to believe in. In a multiplicity of destinations the right one may be given, but there will be nothing to indicate that it is correct. Similarly, the policy—till recently pursued by the British Admiralty and the American Navy Board—of allowing everything in the dockyards (with reservations) to be public property was an essentially sound idea. Ideal secrecy is not to be decried or disputed, for it is the duty of every fleet to neglect nothing that may contribute to victory: the deleterious secrecy is that which is apparent rather than real, and effective only with those who are not possible enemies.
The advantages to be gained from secrecy of the ideal sort in certain cases are too obvious to need dwelling on and the fact that they are not mentioned here in detail is not to be construed as an ignoring of their existence. But unnecessary and superfluous secrecy whether on small issues, such as that which by labelling certain works 'strictly confidential' prevents naval officers from studying the subjects dealt with, from such as this to larger issues as exemplified by the theatrical secrecy employed by the Japanese in their war with Russia are to be condemned. The gain
