It would have been bracing enough if there had been a cheery open fire, or at least a glowing little sheet-iron stove, to thaw and dry out at, as there is on most patrol craft, and even on many trawlers. But in the particular type to which M.L. ---- belonged (the units of which are said to have been built in fulfilment of a rush order given one winter on the assumption that the War would be over before the next) there was no refinements and few comforts. Heating is not included among the latter: the only stove in the boat being in the galley, where the drying of wet togs in restricted quarters is responsible for a queer but strangely familiar taste to the pea-soup and Irish stew which you never quite account for until you discover the line of grease on the corner of the tail of your oilskin or the toe of your sea-boot. The diminutive electric heaters are true to the first part of their name rather than the last: that is to say, while they are undeniably electric, it is equally certain that they do not heat. There _is_ a certain amount of warmth in them, as I discovered the time I scorched my blankets by taking one to bed with me; but that is of use only when you can confine it and apply locally, which is rarely practicable in a small craft at sea, even when you have the time for it. It will be readily understood, therefore, why on a M.L., at sea in really wintry weather, the only alternative to sitting up and being slowly but surely chilled to the marrow is to doff wet togs as soon as you come off watch, don dry ones, bolt your dinner, and turn in. This is just what we had to do on M.L. ---- that night; for, besides the really intense cold, a sea which came through the sky-light of the little dining-cabin early in the afternoon had drenched cushions and curtains, with enough left over to form an inch or two of swashing swirl upon the deck. Poor 'Arry, with the effects of the "call o' the sea" still showing in his hollow eyes and pasty cheeks, was not in shape to do much either in the way of "slicking up" or "snugging down"; while the extent of his culinary effort was limited to a kedgeree of half-boiled rice and pale canned salmon, and a platter of eggs fried "straight up," according to D----'s order, with the yolks glaring fish-eyedly at you from a smooth, waxy expanse of congealed grease. D----, who was still somewhat "introspective" himself, turned down the "straightups" straightaway, bent a look that was more grieved than angry on the forlorn 'Arry, and then, rising shiveringly, started edging along over the sodden divan toward his cabin door. "As principal medical officer of this ship," he said through chattering teeth, "I prescribe the only treatment ever found to be efficacious in such circumstances as the present--bunk, blankets, and hot toddy."