ne of a whole fleet
of pleasure vessels large and small. A racing cutter stooped under the
pressure of a fresh westerly breeze, to leeward of us. We slipped close
past a little brown sailed yawl, steered by a man in white flannels.
Two laughing girls in bright red caps sat on the coachroof cabin top.
An arrogant white steam yacht, flying the ensign of the Royal Yacht
Squadron, sliced her silent way through the water behind us. Shabby
boats with stained, discoloured sails and chipped paint bore large
parties seaward. The stiff front of Netley Hospital shone white in the
sun. The conical buoy at the entrance of Hamley river bent its head
shorewards as the strong tide swept past it. From the low point beneath
Calshott Castle a flying machine rose suddenly, circled round in a wide
sweep and then sped swiftly eastwards towards Spit-head. In the
roads off Cowes we could discern many yachts at anchor. One of the
Hamburg-American lines crept cautiously up the Solent. A belated
cruiser, four-funneled, black and grim, on her way to join the Fleet,
followed the huge German steamer. The waters of the Solent tumbled
in irregular white-topped waves, tide and wind opposed to each other,
struggling for mastery.

Gorman hauled luncheon baskets from the cabin. He set Tim and me to open
them. The look of a ham which Tim thoughtlessly asked her to hold while
he unpacked the dish belonging to it, finished Mrs. Ascher. Our boat was
rolling quite appreciably. She retired to the cabin. Even the glass of
champagne with which Gorman hurriedly provided her failed to enable her
to eat. Miss Gibson fortunately was unaffected. She ate everything that
was offered to her and in the course of the afternoon finished Mrs.
Ascher's box of chocolates.

Before we stopped eating we caught our first sight of the Fleet. The
ships lay in three long, straight lines off Spithead; battleships,
cruisers, lean destroyers, submarines. A hydroplane raced past us,
flinging showers of spray and foam high on each side of her. Two naval
aeroplanes, their canoe-shaped floats plainly visible, hovered and
circled overhead. Pleasure boats were everywhere, moving in and out
among the motionless ironclads. A handsome barque-rigged yacht, some
very rich man's summer home, came slowly towards us, her sails furled,
using auxiliary steam power.

We swiftly approached the Fleet Already the vast bulk of the battleships
oppressed our spirits. We looked up from the cockpit of our da