The nickname most in favour in the "forecastle" for Sir John is Hell Fire Jack, yet there is nothing of the fire-eating commander or the bold buccaneer in Admiral Jellicoe's personal appearance. He was always a little boy--his mother and father's "little boy," without a doubt--and, physically, he is a little man. Nelson might have been able to give him half an inch in height. And it is worth remembering that the majority of great leaders of men have been small of stature, from Julius Cæsar to Napoleon, Domville, Sir John French or the late great little Lord Roberts. Marat was insignificant to look at, and the Kaiser, in his socks, hardly suggests the leader of the Race of Nietzsche's Great Blonde Beasts. Not only does Jellicoe lack inches, but Nature built him on the lean, light pattern, yet hard as well-tempered steel. He possesses a vast amount of vitality and reserve force. Time has given his bright, piercing eyes shrewdness and kindliness; they are the eyes of a man who, while he is willing to give all, demands all--or nothing--from those who serve. His nose is long and adventurous rather than Napoleonic. Quiet as a boy, he has less to say as a man when he is at work. But among his intimate friends he has the reputation of a brilliant conversationalist and a wit, and when Jellicoe speaks those about him listen. At sea he has not the usual flow of highly-coloured language generally associated with those who go down to the sea in ships. A small vocabulary has always sufficed him. His mouth is remarkable; the thin, lightly-compressed lips suggest determination and severity; but they turn up at the corners in a curious way, and one feels instinctively that the disciplinarian has a delicious sense of humour. Sir John has an elder brother, who is in the Church; beyond a general family likeness there seems little resemblance between the two men. It is enough that the life of each has been given to the services of his God and his Country. Jellicoe's sister, on the other hand, bears a quite remarkable likeness to the "Little Admiral." The same keen, flashing eyes, adventurous nose and firm mouth--a trifle more tender of course, but with the same delightful suggestion of fun lurking at the corners. One day, not so very long ago, Miss Jellicoe and a friend had stopped at a street corner to watch a pavement artist at work. He had just completed a picture of the Kaiser, a not too flattering one, and he was busy on the outlines of another picture. As the portrait progressed beneath his chalky fingers the man occasionally sat upright and surveyed his work and gave a sly chuckle. A minute or two later the "Little Admiral's" sister--who is as modest and retiring as her brother--started and gave a cry of embarrassment. A small boy, also watching the work of the pavement artist, had nudged her: "He's a drawing of yer picture, Miss!"