Veterans of the Dardanelles--“The range of them”--The Falkland affair--The “double bluff” on von Spee--The intercepted British wireless--Sturdee’s trap--Story book of strategy--The Germans go down with their colours flying--Only a disordered wardroom-- The chaplain’s anecdote--All a lark for the midshipman-- Souvenirs of action. What Englishman, let alone an American, knows the names of even all the British Dreadnoughts? With a few exceptions, the units of the Grand Fleet seem anonymous. The _Warspite_ was quite unknown to the fame which her sister ship the _Queen Elizabeth_ had won. For “_Lizzie_” was back in the fold from the Dardanelles; and so was the _Inflexible_, flagship of the battle of the Falkland Islands. Of all the ships which Sir John Jellicoe had sent away on special missions, the _Inflexible_ had had the grandest Odyssey. She, too, had been at the Dardanelles. The _Queen Elizabeth_ was disappointing so far as wounds went. She had been so much in the public eye that one expected to find her badly battered, and she had suffered little, indeed, for the amount of sport she had had in tossing her fifteen-inch shells across the Gallipoli peninsula into the Turkish batteries and the amount of risk she had run from Turkish mines. Some of these monster shells contained only eleven thousand shrapnel bullets. A strange business for a fifteen-inch naval gun to be firing shrapnel. A year ago no one could have imagined that one day the most powerful British ship, built with the single thought of overwhelming an enemy’s Dreadnought, would ever be trying to force the Dardanelles. The trouble was that she could not fire an army corps ashore along with her shells to take possession of any batteries she put out of action. She had some grand target practice; she escaped the mines; she kept out of reach of the German shells, and returned to report to Sir John with just enough scars to give zest to the recollection of her extraordinary adventure. All the fleet was relieved to see her back in her proper place. It is not the business of super-Dreadnoughts to be steaming around mine-fields, but to be surrounded by destroyers and light cruisers and submarines safeguarding her giant guns which are depressed and elevated as easily as if they were drum-sticks. One had an abrasion, a tracery of dents. “That was from a Turkish shell,” said an officer. “And you are standing where a shell hit.” One looked down to see an irregular outline of fresh planking. “An accident when we did not happen to be out of their reach. We had the range of them,” he added.