The story of the discovery of the properties of the moss is interesting. One day in a peat moss litter works some distance from Kiel a worker met with a serious injury. There were no appliances to deal with the case at the works, but the men did the best they could. They took a quantity of the article which they manufactured, peat moss litter, and laying it on the wounds tied bandages over it. The injured man was then conveyed to Kiel, and taken to a hospital. When the doctors undid the bandages, and found the dirty-looking moss litter in the wound, they were horrified, and declared that the injured limb would have to be cut off. Very soon, however, their horror gave way to surprise, and they said, "Ah, here is something which we do not know about!" They found that, far from the poisoning which they had expected, the injury had been beautifully cleaned by the rude dressing, and had actually begun to heal. With German thoroughness, they made further experiments, and so "discovered" sphagnum moss from the surgeon's point of view.] CHAPTER II. THE LOSS OF THE "FORMIDABLE." The new year opened with a naval disaster. On 31st December eight vessels of the Channel Fleet left Sheerness for a cruise in the English Channel, and by three o'clock on the morning of 1st January were crossing the fishing-ground not far from the Start Lighthouse. The ships were steaming at a moderate speed and in a single line, the rearmost ship being the _Formidable_, a pre-Dreadnought of 15,000 tons, and a sister ship to the _Bulwark_, which had been mysteriously blown up at Sheerness in the preceding November. The sea was rough, the moon was shining brightly, and a cold, piercing wind was blowing. Soon after three o'clock the dull roar of an explosion was heard on the starboard side of the _Formidable_, and was followed shortly afterwards by another. The ship shook from stem to stern, and a cloud of black smoke and coal dust arose. She had been struck fore and aft by two torpedoes discharged by a German submarine. At once she began to list heavily to starboard; there were gaping holes in her side, and it was evident that she could not remain afloat very long. There was not the slightest sign of panic on board the doomed ship. Captain Loxley, one of the ablest of our younger sailors, was on the bridge, setting an example to his crew of cool courage and utter forgetfulness of self. The water-tight doors were closed, the men were piped to quarters, and telephone bells were set ringing all over the ship to give warning of danger. Captain Loxley might easily have called upon his consorts to come to his rescue, but he knew that the submarine which had discharged the fatal torpedoes was still lurking hard by; so he signalled to his sister ships, "Stand off; submarines about."