Here are the flags of the nations of the world, but by far the most numerous are the Stars and Stripes. The red flag of the English merchantman is much in evidence, and so are the crosses of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, and the Tri-Color of France. From a big freighter flies the single star of Cuba. The red sun of Japan and the green and yellow ensign of Brazil snap smartly in the breeze. A few of the freighters are painted a leaden gray, but for the most part they are gay with camouflage. The spattered effects of the earlier days are now replaced by broad bands of flat colors. Black, white, blue, and gray are the favorites, slanting to the bow or stern and carried across life-rafts, boats, superstructures, and funnels. Some appear to be sinking by the head, others at a distance seem to be several vessels. It is a fancy dress carnival, a kaleidoscope of color. One and all they are of heavy and ugly lines. On forward and after decks the masts seem designed only to lift the cargo booms and spread the wireless. The oil-burners are even more unshiplike, for a single small funnel is substituted for the balanced stacks of coal-burning steamers. Fore and aft on the gun-decks the long tubes of the guns point out over bow and stern. Yankee gun crews, baggy blue trousers slapping in the breeze, stand beside them and watch us pass. Blue-clad officers peer down at us from the bridges. Aloft, hoists of gay signal flags, red, yellow, white, and blue, flutter like confetti in the air. From signal bridges bluejackets are sending semaphore signals with red and yellow flags. A big American ocean-going tug churns through the fleet. On our right is a French mine-layer, long rows of mines along her deck. Fast motor-boats slide in and out among the vessels. Above, like dragonflies, three seaplanes soar. The outward-bound convoy of empty freighters is ready. Bursts of steam from bows indicate that anchor engines are lifting the big mud-hooks from the harbor’s floor. One by one the ships steam slowly out of port; converted yachts and small French destroyers on either side. Out where the entrance broadens to the open sea, a big kite balloon tugs at the small steamer far beneath it and seems to drag it by a slender cord of steel. [Illustration: THE HOME OF THE AMERICAN NAVAL OFFICERS’ CLUB IN BREST]