tended by at least one of the Blue
Mountain ironclads. And I am bound to say that I never in my life saw
more dangerous craft than these little warships of King Rupert of the
Blue Mountains. As they entered the Blue Mouth each ship took her
appointed station, those which carried the signatories being close
together in an isolated group in a little bay almost surrounded by high
cliffs in the farthest recesses of the mighty harbour. King Rupert's
armoured yacht all the time lay close inshore, hard by the mouth of the
Great Tunnel which runs straight into the mountain from a wide plateau,
partly natural rock, partly built up with mighty blocks of stone. Here
it is, I am told, that the inland products are brought down to the modern
town of Plazac. Just as the clocks were chiming the half-hour before
noon this yacht glided out into the expanse of the "Mouth." Behind her
came twelve great barges, royally decked, and draped each in the colour
of the signatory nation. On each of these the ruler entered with his
guard, and was carried to Rupert's yacht, he going on the bridge, whilst
his suite remained on the lower deck. In the meantime whole fleets had
been appearing on the southern horizon; the nations were sending their
maritime quota to the christening of "Balka"! In such wonderful order as
can only be seen with squadrons of fighting ships, the mighty throng
swept into the Blue Mouth, and took up their stations in groups. The
only armament of a Great Power now missing was that of the Western King.
But there was time. Indeed, as the crowd everywhere began to look at
their watches a long line of ships began to spread up northward from the
Italian coast. They came at great speed--nearly twenty knots. It was a
really wonderful sight--fifty of the finest ships in the world; the very
latest expression of naval giants, each seemingly typical of its
class--Dreadnoughts, cruisers, destroyers. They came in a wedge, with
the King's yacht flying the Royal Standard the apex. Every ship of the
squadron bore a red ensign long enough to float from the masthead to the
water. From the armoured tower in the waterway one could see the myriad
of faces--white stars on both land and sea--for the great harbour was now
alive with ships and each and all of them alive with men.

Suddenly, without any direct cause, the white masses became
eclipsed--everyone had turned round, and was looking the other way. I
looked across the bay and up