Captain Jellicoe, as all the world knows, completely recovered and has, we believe, lived to fight the battle of his life, the battle of the world. Nevertheless the doctors told him at the time that he would never regain the use of his left arm. It would have been rather remarkable if this false prophecy had come true; it could scarcely have made any difference to his career--for Jellicoe was _the_ man and he was bound to reach his present position no matter the obstacles in his way--but the loss of his arm would have added yet another remarkable point of resemblance to the hero of Trafalgar. And it may not be out of place here to give a story, which is almost a creed with many sailors and their folk in the South of England: the story so beautifully told by Alfred Noyes in his poem "The Admiral's Ghost." This is what the simple Devonshire sea folk will tell you when Jellicoe's name is mentioned--if you have gained their confidence. They do not talk about it to strangers; it has become a faith with them and is sacred. When Drake was dying on board his ship in Nombre Dios Bay his thoughts turned of course to England, the country he loved, had fought and died for. He yearned to be back on the red cliffs of Devon; he wanted to sail once again through Plymouth Sound and to be laid at rest in the dear home waters that washed his native shores. He was dying far from the beloved land. There were battles yet to be fought, victories to be won for England. She might want him again and he would not be there to answer her call. So he told his men to take back his drum and to hang it upon the sea wall, and if ever England was in danger and called, the sailors were to strike upon his drum and he would rise from the far seas and come back and fight for her. When England was threatened two hundred years after Drake's death his drum was heard one stormy night by the fisher folk. And there are those who will swear that a strange shadow shape was seen hovering about the old sea wall for many a night. Then Nelson came to England's rescue and saved her in her hour of need. But let Alfred Noyes tell the tale in his inspiring verse: "D'you guess who Nelson was? You may laugh, but it's true as true! There was more in that pore little chawed-up chap Than ever his best friend knew. "The foe was creepin' close, In the dark, to our white-cliffed isle; They were ready to leap at England's throat, When--O, you may smile, you may smile; "But--ask of the Devonshire men; For they heard in the dead of night The roll of a drum, and they saw him pass On a ship all shining white. "He stretched out his dead cold face And he sailed in the grand old way! The fishes had taken an eye and an arm, But he swept Trafalgar's Bay. "Nelson--was Francis Drake! O, what matters the uniform, Or the patch on your eye or your pinned-up sleeve, If your soul's like a North Sea storm?"