In the matter of clothes the sailors showed a marked disinclination to wear anything provided for them. They were supplied with khaki, as white would be far too conspicuous; but, being ashore, and feeling, I suppose, something of a sense of relaxed discipline, it was almost impossible to get them to wear the clothes served out. Consequently you saw the strangest collection of garments being worn in the beach-parties' camp. An order to wear the clothes provided would produce a return to regulation dress for a day, or possibly two, after which most of the men would again be wearing the kit which suited their particular tastes. It was found hopeless to try and enforce the rule. After all, in a case of this kind, and under the peculiar circumstances, it is perhaps better to indulge a man's fancy as long as it does not affect the work in hand and keeps him cheerful and happy. A naval officer, whose duties lay on shore, told me this story one day which I think is good enough to relate. He was outside his dug-out one afternoon and chanced to see two men passing in strange raiment. The combination of gait and the fact that both were wearing navy flannels told him at once that they were blue-jackets. Anxious to know what their special mission might be, he stopped and questioned them. "Where are you going?" "Motor-lighter K—, sir." "Do you belong there?" "Yes, sir." "Then what are you doing here?" "Well, sir," (hesitating) "we've just been up to the trenches." "Were you sent there with orders?" "Er—no, sir." "How long have you been up there?" "'Ow long, sir?" (then to companion) "When was it we went up, Bill?" (indistinct murmurs from diffident comrade—then to Captain) "I should say about four days, sir." Finally the Captain ordered them down to a picket-boat in which he was about to visit the flagship, and they were put in the midshipman's charge under arrest. On the way out the Captain heard the two adventurers discussing their detention with some bitterness, always ending with the same refrain, which was repeated several times, thus: "Fine thing, this—under arrest. Well I'm ——! And they treat yer like a gentleman in the trenches—treat yer like a gentleman, I say." It is difficult to imagine the point of view of men leaving the trenches with regret. I believe I am right in saying that at the original landing at Helles many blue-jackets in charge of the landing-parties, whose boats had been sunk by the terrible fire, though they themselves escaped uninjured, joined with the soldiers in the advance on bare feet and with boat-hooks for weapons.