day after day, and week after week, and where--if disaster
comes--all may perish together?

But on this bright winter morning, as we pass under and round the ships,
and the Admiral points out what a landswoman can understand, in the
equipment and the power of these famous monsters with their pointing guns,
there was for the moment no thought of the perils of the Navy, but only of
the glory of it. And afterwards in the Admiral's pleasant drawing-room on
board the Flag-ship, with its gathering of naval officers, Admirals,
Captains, Commanders, how good the talk was! Not a shade of boasting--no
mere abuse of Germany--rather a quiet regret for the days when German and
English naval men were friends throughout the harbours of the world. "Von
Spee was a very good fellow--I knew him well--and his two sons who went
down with him," says an Admiral gently. "I was at Kiel the month before
the war. I _know_ that many of their men must loathe the work they are set
to do." "The point is," says a younger man, broad--shouldered, with the
strong face of a leader, "that they are always fouling the seas, and we
are always cleaning them up. Let the neutrals understand that! It is not
we who strew the open waters with mines for the slaughter of any passing
ship, and then call it 'maintaining the freedom of the seas.' And as to
their general strategy, their Higher Command--" he throws back his head
with a quiet laugh--and I listen to a rapid sketch of what the Germans
_might_ have done, have never done, and what it is now much too late to
do, which I will not repeat.

Type after type comes back to me:--the courteous Flag-Lieutenant, who is
always looking after his Admiral, whether in these brief harbour rests, or
in the clash and darkness of the high seas--the Lieutenant-Commanders
whose destroyers are the watch-dogs, the ceaseless protectors, no less
than the eyes and ears of the Fleet--the Flag-Captain, who takes me
through the great ship, with his vigilant, spare face, and his
understanding, kindly talk about his men; many of whom on this Thursday
afternoon--the quasi half-holiday of the Fleet when in harbour--are
snatching an hour's sleep when and where they can. That sleep-abstinence
of the Navy--sleep, controlled, measured out, reduced to a bare minimum,
among thousands of men, that we on shore may sleep our fill--look at the
signs of it, in the eyes both of these officers, and of the sailors
crowding the "liberty" boats, which are jus