As the ships swung round, one after the other, keeping perfect station as if at manœuvres, they fired their broadsides with telling effect, which was plainly seen, at the German battleships, which responded indifferently. It was easy for those in the top to guess what Beatty’s tactics were. Evidently, Jellicoe was somewhere up in the north-west, and the whole German Fleet were walking straight into his hands. If only the light would hold, but already, although it was barely 5 P.M., the horizon was becoming misty and the outlines of the enemy ships were no longer sharply defined. To control effectively this long length of battle line, good light was absolutely essential. Still Beatty sped along, keeping station on the German cruisers at 13,000 yards, leaving their battleships to the Fifth Battle Squadron. The Germans by this time were suffering heavily, and the _Lutzow_ was seen to drop out of the line. Suddenly, ahead on the port bow, were seen the welcome signs of the Grand Fleet arriving at last. There was no longer any doubt as to what the result would be. Inevitable defeat was staring the Germans in the face. With the instinct of the born fighting sailor, Beatty seized the chance to turn the German defeat into a rout. The battle-cruisers leaped ahead at full speed and he dashed like a fury across towards the head of the German line in order to concentrate on their leading ships and crumple their formation. The manœuvre was perfectly successful. The German line bent, broke and fled, but the thick mist which had gradually been coming down robbed Jellicoe of the fruits of his victory. As the Grand Fleet deployed into line and brought their guns to bear on the enemy’s line, they found for target an occasional wraith-like hull appearing for a few seconds between the banks of smoke and fog. The battle-cruisers were in the same quandary, firing at intervals at the flashes which showed the position of the German ships. The utmost confusion apparently reigned on board them, and in the thick fog and scattered condition of both fleets, to go on with the action was impossible. Once again, as often before, the weather conditions had favoured the defeated, and both fleets mutually broke off action—the Germans to flee for their home ports, and the British to re-form for the battle at dawn. During the night, that best test of the morale of a fleet, a destroyer attack, was carried out by the British with marked success; but there was no retaliation on the part of the Germans. They had had enough and more than enough. At 10.30 P.M. a group of stiff and wearied officers left the top and made for the wardroom to get some food. The forsaken afternoon tea was still standing as it had been left on the table, and, lying about on chairs, sofas and settees, were men too wearied even to desire to eat.