little plans. Yet here they were, attended by unknown ships
called in from the four quarters of the earth. How had they come
to be worth the watchfulness and devotion of so many men and
machines, this extravagant consumption of fuel and energy? Taken
one by one, they were ordinary fellows like himself. Yet here
they were. And in this massing and movement of men there was
nothing mean or common; he was sure of that. It was, from first
to last, unforeseen, almost incredible. Four years ago, when the
French were holding the Marne, the wisest men in the world had
not conceived of this as possible; they had reckoned with every
fortuity but this. "Out of these stones can my Father raise up
seed unto Abraham."

Downstairs the men began singing "Annie Laurie." Where were those
summer evenings when he used to sit dumb by the windmill,
wondering what to do with his life?

IV

The morning of the third day; Claude and the Virginian and the
Marine were up very early, standing in the bow, watching the
Anchises mount the fresh blowing hills of water, her prow, as it
rose and fell, always a dull triangle against the glitter. Their
escorts looked like dream ships, soft and iridescent as shell in
the pearl-coloured tints of the morning. Only the dark smudges of
smoke told that they were mechanical realities with stokers and
engines.

While the three stood there, a sergeant brought Claude word that
two of his men would have to report at sick-call. Corporal
Tannhauser had had such an attack of nose-bleed during the night
that the sergeant thought he might die before they got it
stopped. Tannhauser was up now, and in the breakfast line, but
the sergeant was sure he ought not to be. This Fritz Tannhauser
was the tallest man in the company, a German-American boy who,
when asked his name, usually said that his name was Dennis and
that he was of Irish descent. Even this morning he tried to joke,
and pointing to his big red face told Claude he thought he had
measles. "Only they ain't German measles, Lieutenant," he
insisted.

Medical inspection took a long while that morning. There seemed
to be an outbreak of sickness on board. When Claude brought his
two men up to the Doctor, he told them to go below and get into
bed. As they left he turned to Claude.

"Give them hot tea, and pile army blankets on them. Make them
sweat if you can." Claude remarked that the hold wasn't a very
cheerful place for sick men.

"I know that, Lieutenan