Who but those whose duty it is to perform the arduous task of protecting our troop-ships can understand and appreciate what it means to live the life of the sailor on those comfortless-looking destroyers. Night after night, week after week, throughout the years, tearing frantically up and down, seeking a hidden foe; daring the treacherous mines; safeguarding their trust with apparent disregard for their own safety. The men who perform such duties are hidden heroes; and the safe transportation of our fighting millions across the seas is a silent tribute of their bravery. This work goes on, and will go on until the end of the war, and the men who perform this great task do so with the knowledge that only failure can bring their names before the public. I met many old friends on board, and several new ones. But one man in particular attracted my attention, for his appearance seemed so strangely out of place with the surroundings. Standing near the companionway, and looking upon the scene with a bored expression, was a young man in the thirties, in a brand-new uniform, with a single star on his shoulder-strap, which proclaimed him to the world as a second lieutenant. He was rather tubby in appearance, with a round, chubby face, which was screwed up in a frantic effort to retain within its grasp a monocle, through which he viewed his fellow beings in mute astonishment; and what is more, he wore new kid gloves. It was Septimus D'Arcy, dressed in immaculate neatness, radiating the atmosphere of Bond Street; indifferent to everybody, yet with a horrified look of discomfort at finding himself in such unusual surroundings. I had hardly turned from the strange scene when Collins caught hold of my arm. "Come over here; I want to introduce you to a friend of mine, who, I believe, is coming out to be attached to us," he said. We walked along the deck, and, to my embarrassment, a few moments later I found myself shaking the limp paw of Septimus D'Arcy, glove and all. I am not quite sure that Septimus, on my introduction, did anything more than open his mouth, while I raised and lowered his right forearm. Septimus would have spoken, I am quite sure, as the movement of his mouth indicated that such was his intention; although the expression, or rather lack of expression, on his face, bore no proof that his remarks, if uttered, would be very interesting. In fact, Septimus needed encouragement. "We are having a very pleasant crossing," I ventured. "Ye-s," he drawled, "but a demned overcrowded one--what?" "I suppose so, but troop-ships are always overcrowded." "I say, though, where does one sleep?" I rather suspected that what Septimus really wanted to know was whether there was such a thing to be had as a private cabin, where he could disrobe his tubby figure in seclusion. "There seems to be two places to sleep," I replied; "either in the boiler-room or on deck." "On deck! Rather uncomfortable--what?"