ed quickly to the chart again.

For a moment he was busy with dividers and parallel-rulers; when he
raised his head his eyes were alight with a curiously restrained
excitement.

"Rather interesting," he said, and passed the paper to the Navigator
who read it in turn and grinned like a schoolboy.

"They have probably caught a raiding party in the mist, sir," he said,
and bent over the chart.

Thorogood picked up the message and pursed his lips up in a short,
soundless whistle.

"It's too much to hope that their main fleet's out," he said.

"Their main fleet's sure to be in support somewhere," replied the
Captain. "It's a question whether they realise we're all down on top
of 'em, though, and nip for home before we catch them."

A second messenger flung himself, panting, up the ladder, and handed in
a second message.

"Intercepted wireless to Flag, sir."

The Captain read it and took a breath that was like a sigh of relief.
"At last!" he said.

The Navigator turned from the chart.

"_Der Tag_, sir?" he asked interrogatively with a smile.

The Captain nodded ahead at the haze curtaining all the horizon. "If
we catch 'em," he replied.

The signal platform was awhirl with bunting; the voice of the Chief
Yeoman repeating hoists rose above the stamp of feet and the flapping
of flags in the wind.

Thorogood turned to the Navigator. "Will you take on now?" he asked in
a low voice. "If the balloon's really going up this time I'd better
get along to my battery."

As he descended the ladder the upper-deck was ringing with bugle-calls,
and the turrets' crews were already swarming round their guns. From
the hatchways leading to the lower-deck came a great roar of cheering.
Men poured up on their way to their action stations in a laughing,
rejoicing throng. Mouldy Jakes, with the ever-faithful Midshipman of
his turret at his side, was hurrying to his beloved guns, and greeted
Thorogood as he passed with a sidelong jerk of the head and the first
whole-souled smile of enjoyment a mess-mate had ever surprised on his
face. Further aft the Captain of Marines was standing on the roof of
his slowly revolving turret:

"Buck up, James," he shouted merrily. "'Johnnie, get your gun, there's
a cat in the garden'--We're going to see Life in a minute, my lad!"

He was right, but they were also destined to see Death, holding red
carnival.

Thorogood waved his arm and shouted an inarticulate reply as he ran aft
to the