o be shipmates
with a new contrivance, to the operation of which we had no control. For
want of point in discussion, we criticized freely. We surpassed
ourselves in adjectival review; we stared in horror and amazement as
each newly bedizened vessel passed down the river. In comparison and
simile we racked memory for text to the gaudy creations. "Water running
under a bridge.". . . "Forced draught on a woolly sheep's back.". . .
"Mural decoration in a busy butcher's shop.". . . "Strike _me_ a rosy
bloody pink!" said one of the hands, "if this 'ere don't remind me o'
jaundice an' malaria an' a touch o' th' sun, an' me in a perishin' dago
'orspittel!"

While naming the new riot of colour grotesque--a monstrosity, an
outrage, myopic madness--we were ready enough to grasp at anything that
might help us in the fight at sea. We scanned our ships from all points
and angles to unveil the hidden imposition. Fervently we hoped that
there would be more in it than met our eye--that our preposterous livery
was not only an effort to make Gargantuan faces at the Boche! Only the
most splendid results could justify our bewilderment.

Out on the sea we came to a better estimate of the value of our novel
war-paint. In certain lights and positions we seemed to be steering odd
courses--it was very difficult to tell accurately the line of a vessel's
progress. The low visibility that we seamen had sought was sacrificed to
enhance a bold disruption of perspective. While our efforts at
deception, based more or less on a one-colour scheme of greys, may have
rendered our ships less visible against certain favouring backgrounds of
sea and sky, there were other weather conditions in which we would stand
out sharply revealed. Abandoning the effort to cloak a stealthy
sea-passage, our newly constituted Department of Marine Camouflage
decked us out in a bold pattern, skilfully arranged to disrupt our
perspective, and give a false impression of our line of course. With a
torpedo travelling to the limit of its run--striking anything that may
lie in its course, range is of little account. Deflection, on the other
hand, is everything in the torpedo-man's problem--the correct estimation
of a point of contact of two rapidly moving bodies. He relies for a
solution on an accurate judgment of his target's course; it became the
business of the dazzle-painters to complicate his working by a feint in
colour and design. The new camouflage has so distorted our shee