G.H.Q., Tuesday, 11.46 a.m."--_Star_. It is hoped now that the British _communiqués_ will be a little less bald. * * * * * THE BOAT. A STUDY IN INDIFFERENCE. One likes to think of oneself as a person of some importance, whose vital spark, even in these days when life is so cheap, ought to be guarded with solicitude. Indeed, to adapt CLOUGH'S phrase, one wants other people--and especially those whose prosperity is dependent upon us--officiously to keep us alive. This being my not unnatural attitude, you will understand what a shock I had when the owner of the boat, who would expire of starvation if his boats were not hired, treated me as he has done. The boat in question was needed for an estuary or bay in which sailing is permitted. Since we had decided to take a holiday on the shores of this water it seemed well to secure something to navigate; and as I detest rowing it had to be something with sails, petrol being too scarce. The hotel people sent me the name of a man who had sailing-boats for hire. I corresponded with him, fixed up the price (an exorbitant one), and arranged for the boat to be ready on Monday afternoon. On Monday afternoon it had not arrived. There was the sea; there was the little pier; there were plenty of rowing-boats, but my vessel was--where? After breakfast the next day there was still no boat, but word came that its owner had called and would I see him? "About the boat," he began. "Where is it?" I asked. "She's moored just round the point there," he said. "Why isn't she here?" I asked, adopting his pronoun. I had forgotten for the moment that boats belong to the now enfranchised sex. "Did you want her so soon?" he replied. "It was all arranged for her to be here yesterday afternoon," I said. "I have your letter about it." "Oh, well, she'll be here directly," he answered. "I should have preferred you to keep your word," I said stiffly. He made no reply. "Send for her at once," I said. It was now half-past ten. "I want to go out this morning;" and he agreed. The boat arrived at a little after three--an open boat with a mast. No deck; nowhere to be comfortable, as the boom swung almost level with the bulwarks. There was a foot of water in her. Her owner arrived while I was noting these things. He looked at her with pride. "She's a good boat," he said. "She used to be a lifeboat, with tanks in her to keep her buoyant, but I took them out." "I was expecting one with a deck," I said. "Deck? Who wants a deck?" he answered. "She's all right. You must keep baling, that's all. She would, be all the better for some white-lead and paint." "Why not give them to her?" I asked. He pointed to an island about a mile distant and a headland half a mile across the bay. "Keep within those two spots," he said, "and you'll be all right. It's not safe to take her beyond. There might be squalls." "Rather limited," I suggested.