f a
fleet that mere censorship of letters cannot balk. There were at least
half a dozen mothers in the _foyer_ of the big, garish hotel on the
sea-front. Some were tete-a-tete with their sons in snug, upholstered
corners, learning aspects of naval warfare that no historian will ever
record. Others presided over heavily laden tea-tables at which their
sons and their sons' more intimate friends were dealing with eggs and
buttered toast, marmalade, watercress, plum-cake, and toasted scones in
a manner which convinced their half-alarmed relatives that famine must
have stalked the British Navy ever since the War started.

"We shall never have time," said one mother, "to hear all you have to
tell, dear."

"There's really nothing very much to tell you about, mother. Can I
order some more jam? And Jaggers could scoff some more eggs, couldn't
you, Jag? Waiter, two more poached eggs and some more strawberry jam.
You see, dear, we haven't done anything exciting yet. That's all been
the luck of the battle-cruisers and destroyers. They've had a topping
rag--three of our term have been wounded already. But we aren't
allowed to gas about what we're going to do--why, that waiter might be
a German spy, for all we know."

"Didn't know the Admiral confided his plans for the future to
Midshipmen," commented an amused father, who had run down from the War
Office for the day.

"He doesn't _confide_ them," admitted another, "but my chest is in the
flat outside his steward's cabin, and, of course, _he_ hears an awful
lot."

"But, Georgie, tell us about your life. Do you get enough sleep?"
queried his mother.

"Rather," replied her son, whose horizon three months before had been
bounded by the playing fields of Dartmouth College, where the
dormitories are maintained at an even temperature by costly and
hygienic methods. "We're in four watches, you know--we get one night
in in four. At sea we sleep at our guns. I've got one of the
six-inch, and we get up quite a good fug in our casemate at night.
Jaggers dosses in the after-control. It's a bit breezy up there, isn't
it, Old Bird?"

The Old Bird signified that the rigours of Arctic exploration were as
nothing to what he had undergone.

"And your swimming-jacket--the one Aunt Jessie sent you? The outfitter
said it was quite comfortable to wear. I hope you always do wear it at
sea, in case--in case you should ever need it."

Her son chuckled. "The pneumatic one? Well,