ut to the gangways and filing down the dock steps,
chain linking in trial over the crane sheaves, and the bustle of
preparation on ship and shore, everything seems set for an instant
beginning--but no hammer falls as yet. There is, first, a sad freight to
be discharged; not all the crew of the ship with the wrecked engines
have gone to the pay-table. Three sombre closed wagons are waiting by
the dockside, and towards them down the long gangways from the ship, the
bodies of an engineer and some of the stokehold crew are being carried.
The weltering flood that held them has drained to the dock, and busy
hands have searched in the wreckage where they died at their post.

We have no flags to honour, no processional march to accompany our dead.
Their poor bodies, dripping and fouled, are draped in a simple coarse
shroud that hardly conceals the line of their mangled limbs. Awkwardly
the carriers stumble on the sodden planking and rest arms and knees on
the guiding hand-lines. The workmen pause on the ship and gangways and
look respectfully, if curiously, at the limp burdens as they are carried
by.

Here and there a man speaks of the dead, but the most are silent, with
lowering looks, set teeth--a sharp intake of the breath. . . . Who
knows? Perhaps the spirits of the murdered seamen may come by a payment
at the hands of the shipwright gangs. The best monument to their memory
will stand as another keel on the deep--a quick ripost to the enemy, in
his victim repaired and strengthened and returned to sea.

Lowering looks, set teeth, a hissing intake of the breath are the right
accompaniment to a blow struck hard home; the thunder of hammers and
drills, the hiss and sparkle of shearing cutters, that breaks out when
the wagons have gone, marks a start to their monument!

[Illustration: DAZZLE]

XIV

ON CAMOUFLAGE--AND SHIPS' NAMES

EARLY in the war the rappel of 'Business as usual' was as deadly at sea
as elsewhere. Arrogant and super-confident in our pride of sea-place, we
made little effort to trim and adapt our practice to rapidly altering
conditions; there were few visible signs to disquiet us, we hardly
deviated from our peaceful sea-path, and had no concern for
interference. We carried our lights ablaze, advertised our doings in
plain wireless, announced our sailings and arrivals, and even devoted
more than usual attention to keeping our ships as span in brave new
paint and glistening varnish as the hearts o