It was 6 in the evening when finally our warps were cast off, and, running alongside, we coaled for half-an-hour, in that time taking in seventy tons, and then proceeded to sea with coal still stacked high on our decks. Through Plymouth Harbour the ship slid like a grey ghost—all dead-lights down, and in total darkness save for the occasional flashes from the shaded arc-lamp which replied to the challenges of the torpedo-boat patrol and boom vessels. Once outside we met the Channel swell, and the ship, burying her nose in a huge roller, lifted a ton of green swirling water on to the fo’c’sle, where it broke into creaming cascades at the foot of the fore-turret, smothering the guns in white foam and rushing aft on either side, until, thrown back from the closed battery doors, it sluiced overboard with a baffled roar. All hands turned to and stowed the coal in the bunkers, after which the decks were washed down with hoses and we went below for much-needed baths. Then came dinner, after which we went to night-defence stations. CHAPTER V ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS AS we turned out next morning the white cliffs of Portland loomed faintly through the mist ahead, and when we were within half a mile of the Shambles lightship the seven other ships of the fourth battle squadron of the 3rd Fleet, to which we also belonged, hove in sight. We joined up in station as the third ship of the first division, and the whole squadron proceeded out to sea in single line. When we were about two miles out the Admiral signalled from his flagship: “Form divisions in line ahead. Columns disposed to port.” So the leading ship of the second division drew out of line followed by her consorts, and crept slowly upon our port quarter till the two lines were steaming parallel at a distance of five cables. At 4 o’clock we arrived off Cherbourg, and a signal was received ordering the second division to turn sixteen points and proceed down Channel to take up their patrolling positions, while the first four ships went up Channel to theirs. Thus we formed an unbroken line from the Straits of Dover to the mouth of the Channel, each ship steaming slowly in a circle of five miles radius, and keeping always within sight of the next ship on either side. That evening a beautiful August half-moon shone down on the heaving waters and the sky was studded with stars. The great arc of the Milky Way hung above us, and on the horizon the lighthouses of Cherbourg and the Channel Islands flashed their intermittent rays, at one moment throwing everything into high relief, and at the next passing on like great fingers of light across the sea before they faded to total eclipse.