was in no more danger of jumping the track.
Mast in line with mast, they held the course with a majestic
steadiness. Now the leading ship makes a turn of a few points. At the
same spot, as if it were marked by the grooves of tyres in a road, the
others make it. Any variation of speed between them would have
been instantly noticeable, as one forged ahead or lagged; but the
distance between bows and sterns did not change. A line of one
length would do for each interval so far as one could discern.

It was difficult to think that they were not attached to some taut,
moving cable under water. How could such apparently unwieldy
monsters, in such a slippery element as the sea, be made to obey
their masters with such fine precision?

The answer again is sheer hard work! Drills as arduous in the engine-
room as at the guns; machinery kept in tune; traditions in
manoeuvring in all weathers, which is kept up with tireless practice.

Though all seemed perfection to the lay eye, let it be repeated that
this was not so to the eyes of admirals. It never can be. Perfection is
the thing striven for. Officers dwell on faults; all are critics. Thus you
have the healthiest kind of spirit, which means that there will be no
cessation in the striving.

"Look at that!" exclaimed an officer on the destroyer. "They ought to
try another painting on her and see if they can't do better."

Ever changing that northern light. For an instant the sun's rays,
strained by a patch of peculiar cloud, playing on a Dreadnought's
side, made her colour appear molten, exaggerating her size till she
seemed as colossal to the eye as to the thought.

"But look, now!" said another officer. She was out of the patch and
seemed miles farther away to the vision, a dim shape in the sea-
haze.

"You can't have it right for every atmospheric mood of the North Sea,
I suppose!" muttered the critic. Still, it hurt his professional pride
that a battleship should show up as such a glaring target even
for a moment.

The power of the fleet was more patent in movement than at rest; for
the sea-lion was out of his lair on the hunt. Fluttering with flags at a
review at Spithead, the battleships seemed out of their element;
giants trying for a fairy's part. Display is not for them. It ill becomes
them, as does a pink ribbon on a bulldog.

Irresistibly ploughing their way they presented a picture of resolute
utility--guns and turrets and speed. No spot of bright colour wa