There was, however, one small flaw in the rules, and as soon as they were in possession of the plan of campaign the experts of the lower deck put their horny thumbs on it—thus: ‘Look ’ere. Their Admiral ’as to go out from Blacksod to some rendezvous known only to ’isself. Ain’t that so?’ ‘We’ve ’eard all that.’ This from an impertinent, new to War. ‘Leavin’ a cruiser be’ind ’im—_Blake_ most likely, or _Blenheim_—to bring ’im word of the outbreak of ’ostilities. Ain’t that so?’ ‘Get _on_. What are you drivin’ at?’ ‘You’ll see. When that cruiser overtakes ’im ’e ’as to navigate back to Blacksod from ’is precious rendezvous to get ’ome again before we intercepts the beggar.’ ‘Well?’ ‘Now I put it to you. What’s to prevent ’im rendezvousin’ out _slow_ in order to be overtook by that cruiser; an’ rendezvousin’ back quick to Black-sod, before we intercepts ’im? I don’t see that _’is_ steamin’ rate is anywhere laid down. You mark my word, ’e’ll take precious good care to be overtook by that cruiser of ’is. We won’t catch ’im. There’s an ’ole in the rules an’ ’e’ll slip through. _I_ know ’im if you don’t!’ The voice went on to describe ‘’im,’ the Admiral of our enemy—as a wily person, who would make the Admiralty sit up. And truly, it came out in the end that the other Admiral had done almost exactly what his foc’sle friends expected. He went to his rendezvous slowly, was overtaken by his cruiser about a hundred miles from the rendezvous, turned back again to Blacksod, and having won the game of ‘Pussy wants a corner,’ played about in front of the Bay till we descended on him. Then he was affable, as he could afford to be, explained the situation, and I presume smiled. There was a ‘hole in the rules,’ and he sailed all his Fleet through it. We, of the Northern Squadron, found Lough Swilly in full possession of a Sou’-west gale, and an assortment of dingy colliers lying where they could most annoy the anchoring Fleet. A collier came alongside with donkey-engines that would not lift more than half their proper load; she had no bags, no shovels, and her crazy derrick-boom could not be topped up enough to let the load clear our bulwarks. So we supplied our own bags and shovels, rearranged the boom, put two of our own men on the rickety donkey-engines, and fell to work in that howling wind and wet. COALING: A PREPARATION FOR WAR