Such is one of the definitions given in the “Century Dictionary” for the word “romance,” and as in the following pages there will be much of “the heroic, the marvellous and the mysterious,” there is every justification for using the term in connection with under-water warfare. Some months since the writer was standing on the pier at Kyle of Loch Alsh, a tiny village in South-west Rosshire, waiting for the boat going south to Oban. The sky was leaden, and ever and again a squall swept over from Skye and blotted out the landscape for a time. Presently a little shiver of excitement ran through the group of tourists, fisher folk, and idlers gathered at the pier head. All eyes were directed up Loch Alsh, and for a few minutes it was difficult to discover what it was that was attracting so much attention. Gradually there came into sight the first of a little flotilla of torpedo boats, making their way, in single column, line ahead, to the open sea. Each was painted black from bow to stern, each bore a number in place of a name, and each crept along like a snake, surprised at finding itself observed, and anxious to escape from the haunts of men. One by one they passed by, gathering speed as they went, and in a little while the last had disappeared into the mist and the rain and nothing remained to show that they had passed save a few white patches of foam scattered over the sullen waters. What were the thoughts uppermost in the minds of those who watched these tiny engines of destruction? Were they not of the next occasion on which Great Britain shall require her navy to assume the offensive and “to take arms” against the foe that dares to threaten her proud supremacy? Were they not of the fate of the crews of these vessels in the next great battle on the seas, and of the part they will be destined to play when the “Real Thing” comes?