No doubt, said Kurt, this
was now making records across that ocean, "unless the Japanese have had
the same idea as the Germans." It was obviously beyond human possibility
that the American North Atlantic fleet could hope to meet and defeat
the German; but, on the other hand, with luck it might fight a delaying
action and inflict such damage as to greatly weaken the attack upon
the coast defences. Its duty, indeed, was not victory but devotion,
the severest task in the world. Meanwhile the submarine defences of New
York, Panama, and the other more vital points could be put in some sort
of order.

This was the naval situation, and until Wednesday in Whit week it was
the only situation the American people had realised. It was then they
heard for the first time of the real scale of the Dornhof aeronautic
park and the possibility of an attack coming upon them not only by
sea, but by the air. But it is curious that so discredited were the
newspapers of that period that a large majority of New Yorkers, for
example, did not believe the most copious and circumstantial accounts of
the German air-fleet until it was actually in sight of New York.

Kurt's talk was half soliloquy. He stood with a map on Mercator's
projection before him, swaying to the swinging of the ship and talking
of guns and tonnage, of ships and their build and powers and speed, of
strategic points, and bases of operation. A certain shyness that
reduced him to the status of a listener at the officers' table no longer
silenced him.

Bert stood by, saying very little, but watching Kurt's finger on the
map. "They've been saying things like this in the papers for a long
time," he remarked. "Fancy it coming real!"

Kurt had a detailed knowledge of the Miles Standish. "She used to be
a crack ship for gunnery--held the record. I wonder if we beat her
shooting, or how? I wish I was in it. I wonder which of our ships beat
her. Maybe she got a shell in her engines. It's a running fight! I
wonder what the Barbarossa is doing," he went on, "She's my old ship.
Not a first-rater, but good stuff. I bet she's got a shot or two home
by now if old Schneider's up to form. Just think of it! There they
are whacking away at each other, great guns going, shells exploding,
magazines bursting, ironwork flying about like straw in a gale, all
we've been dreaming of for years! I suppose we shall fly right away to
New York--just as though it wasn't anything at all. I suppose we shall
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