I am tempted, before leaving the Hansa, to relate a story of one of their smaller naval operations, which, I must premise, is taken from a German source, so you can believe as much or as little of it as you please. But it is not a bad story in its way. Our King Edward IV had fallen out with the King of Denmark, who, in retaliation for a real or alleged piratical attack made by the traders of Lynn upon his dominions in Iceland, set to work to capture our merchantmen, using apparently the ships of his allies, the Hanse League, for the purpose. King Edward, in his turn, at once closed the Steelyard, and, according to this account, strangled many of its merchants, and demanded £20,000 compensation for his captured ships. At this time there were a couple of rather big Hanse ships lying in a Dutch harbour, the _Mariendrache_ and the _Anholt_. Hearing of the English preparations for war, Paul Beneke, who was in command, stood over to Deal under French colours to intercept the Lord Mayor of London, who was expected to land there on his way back from Paris in _La Cygne_ of Dieppe. How he discovered this we are not told. By the use of French colours Paul Beneke succeeded in kidnapping the Mayor of Deal and various other notabilities, who thought they were going on board _La Cygne_ to welcome the Lord Mayor. The two Hanseatic ships then put to sea, intercepted the real French ship and her consort _La Madeline of Cannes_, took out their distinguished passenger and whatever goods they had on board, and made for the Dutch harbour they had started from. The omniscient Beneke knew that it was being blockaded by thirteen small English ships and one much more powerful than either of his, the _St. John_, possibly the _John Evangelist of Dartmouth_. However, thanks to a fog, he got through the blockade undiscovered. Late at night he, with one other companion, pulled out to sea in a fishing-boat, and, under the pretence of being Dutch fishermen, went alongside the big _St. John_ and asked leave to make fast astern while they boiled their "beer soup" for supper. Permission was granted, and, as the "beer soup" in question was in reality molten lead, they had not much difficulty, under cover of the lofty and overhanging stern, in pouring it into the iron joints of the rudder, so that it became immovable. Then, "after supper", having thanked the obliging officer of the watch, Beneke and his confederate made their way back to their own ship. The following morning the two Germans stood out of harbour and attacked the English fleet, and, as none of its ships were big enough to put up any fight against them, with the exception of the _St. John_, and she was not under control, thanks to Beneke's strategem, they are said to have won a "glorious victory". Veracious or not, this tale has one realistic touch about it in the evident desire to win by underhand means rather than by fair fighting. But we seem to have been blown a bit out