t's coming out. I swear it's coming out!"

"You cheated," remarked an onlooker cruelly. "I saw you with my own
eyes."

It was then that he burst into tears. . . .

Shut off as they were from the outside world--the old tramp had no
wireless--they could only wonder, and wait, fuming with impatience.
What had happened? Had the fleets met? Had the wonderful day which
the German Navy was popularly supposed to be living for--had it
arrived? And if it had--what had been the result? They could only
lean over the stern and try and grasp the one monumental fact--war.
And what did it hold in store? . . .

Visions of forlorn hopes, visions of glory, visions of the glamour of
war rose unbidden in their minds. And then, when they had got as far
as that, the smell of that patent manure obtruded itself once again,
and the dreamers of honours to come passed sadly down the gangway to
the Levantine villain who presided over the vermouth and the gin.
Which might be taken as the text for a sermon on things as they are.
In this war it is the patent manure and the vermouth which dominate the
situation as far as the fighters, at any rate, are concerned. The
talkers may think otherwise, may prate of soul-stirring motives, and
great ideals. But for the soldiers, life is a bit too grim and
overpowering for gloss. After a spell they come for their vermouth,
for something to help nerves a trifle jangled, something to give a
contrast to stark reality, and having had it they go back again to the
patent manure; while the onlookers see visions and dream dreams. I
suppose it's a fair division of labour! . . .

VII

It was the distinguished-looking gentleman in blue who came alongside
just after they dropped anchor at the Rock, who brought the glorious
news. He ascended the gangway with great dignity, and disappeared into
some secret place with the skipper. After some delay and a slight
commotion, various flags were hoisted, and he majestically appeared
again. It seemed that the hoisting of the flags had apparently been
successful. Suspicion had been averted by this simple act; there was
no longer any danger of being made a target for enthusiastic gunners.
And, what was more to the point, the distinguished gentleman was now
free to impart his great tidings.

"The German fleet, gentlemen," he remarked genially, "has ceased to
exist."

"Who said so?" asked a doubting voice.

"It is in all the Spanish papers." The Admiral, or w