en I'd get
shoved under arrest by the skipper under suspicion of being drunk."

The drifter rounded an outlying promontory of one of the islands, and
Thorogood raised his hand. "There you are," he said, "there's our little
lot!" He indicated with a nod the Battle-fleet of Britain.

"And very nice too," said the India-rubber Man, staring in the direction
of the other's gaze. "Puts me in mind, as they say, of a picture I saw
once. 'National Insurance,' I think it was called."

A shaft of sunlight had struggled through a rift in the clouds and fell
athwart the dark waters of the harbour. In the far distance, outlined
against the sombre hills and lit by the pale sunshine, a thicket of
tripod masts rose towering above the grey hulls of the anchored
Battle-fleet.

As the drifter drew near the different classes of ships became
distinguishable. A squadron of Light Cruisers were anchored between them
and the main Fleet, with a thin haze of smoke hovering above their raking
funnels. Beyond them, line upon line, in a kind of sullen majesty, lay
the Battleships. Seen thus in peace-time, a thousand glistening points
of burnished metal, the white of the awnings, smooth surfaces of enamel,
varnish and gold-leaf would have caught the liquid sunlight and concealed
the menace of that stern array.

Now, however, stripped of awnings, with bare decks, stark as gladiators,
sombre and terrible, they conveyed a relentless significance heightened
by the desolation of their surroundings.

From the offing came the rumble of heavy gunfire.

"Don't be alarmed," said Thorogood to the India-rubber Man, who had
turned in the direction of the sound; "we haven't missed the bus!" He
looked along the lines with a swift, practised eye. "It's only some of
the Battle-cruisers out doing target practice. That's our squadron,
there." He pointed ahead. "We're the second ship in that line."

The drifter passed up a broad lane, on either side of which towered grey
steel walls, unbroken by scuttles or embrasures; above them the muzzles
of guns hooded by casemates and turrets, the mighty funnels, piled up
bridges and superstructures, frowned down like the battlements of
fortresses. Men, dwarfed by the magnitude of their environment to the
size of ants, and clad in jerseys and white working-rig, swarmed about
the decks and batteries.

"There's the Fleet Flagship," continued Thorogood, pointing. "That ship
with the drifters round her, flying t