“If I receive the order to mobilise the College, all cadets will be recalled immediately whatever they may be doing. You will proceed at once to your dormitories, where you will pack your chests, and move them out of the dormitories to the nearest pathway, and stand by to load them on the carts and wagons which will convey them down to the pier. You will then fall in in terms on the quarter-deck to draw your pay. I will have lists of the ships to which cadets are appointed posted up in the gun-rooms as soon as they are made out. The Hawke and Drake terms will go to Portsmouth; the Grenville and Blakes to Chatham, and the Exmouth and St. Vincents with the ships’ company to Devonport. The Chatham batch will leave the College first, followed by the Portsmouth batch. Those going to Devonport will leave last. A year ago I promised the Admiralty to clear the College of all cadets and active service ratings in eight hours. I trust to _you_ to make this promise good.” Then with a word to the Commander he left the quarter-deck. The Commander turned to the ranks and gave the order “Stand at ease,” and then to the officer of the sixth term he said: “Carry on, please.” On the way to the dormitories and while shifting wild speculation was rife. Very little cricket was played that afternoon. Groups of excited cadets collected about the playgrounds and discussed in all their bearings the two absorbing questions—“_Would_ England declare war? SHOULD we be mobilised?” Luckily for our education only two more exams remained to be done, since we were far too excited to give them much attention. What after all were examinations compared with the possibility of such tremendous adventures as had suddenly loomed up on our horizon! At this time, as the reader will no doubt remember, portentous events followed each other in such quick succession that more excitement was crammed into a single day than into any ordinary week or even month. On the Wednesday morning when we assembled in the gun-room a rush was made for the notice board, on which had been posted the list of ships to which in the event of war we had been appointed. These were eagerly scanned, and excitement rose to fever pitch. To see one’s name in print as appointed to a real definite ship seemed to bring it all so much nearer: to materialise what up till then had seemed more like some wild and exciting dream of adventure than a sober fact. However, by Thursday morning no order to mobilise had been received and hope died down again, and by Friday, after the manner of the fox in the fable, we were all consoling one another for the unattainable by such remarks as: “After all, it will be much better fun to go on leave next Tuesday than to fight any beastly Germans.” CHAPTER III THE BEGINNING OF THE “REAL THING”