For the most part the bluejackets were young men of good physique. They lacked the bronzed appearance of seamen who have braved the breezes of the five oceans. Many of them were pale, not with apprehension, but with a consciousness that they had before them a stern task that would tax their energies and courage, for they were going under fire for the first time. Presently one of the bluejackets strolled up to the spot where Kenneth and his chum were standing. "Est-ce--est-ce que vous--oh, hang it! what's the French for----" he began. "Try English, old man; it will be a jolly sight easier for you," said Kenneth, laughing. "Why, you're British, and in Belgian get-up!" exclaimed the bluejacket in surprise. "What are you doing here, I should like to know?" "Exactly the same question we want to ask you," replied Kenneth. "We're dispatch-riders in the Belgian service. We heard that British troops were to be sent here, but we didn't expect sailors." "Nor are we," replied the other. "Candidly we're not, although we are the Collingwood Battalion of the Naval Brigade." "Never heard of it before," remarked Rollo. "You haven't? Have you heard of Kitchener's army, then?" The lads shook their heads. "Then you are behind the times. Whatever have you been doing with yourselves? I'll tell you. As soon as war broke out Kitchener asked for half a million men. He got them right enough. In addition they started Naval Brigades. It was a good wheeze, for a lot of fellows joined for the sake of wearing a naval uniform instead of khaki, although there was no intention of using us at sea--at least, not at present. Two months ago I was an actor. To quote the words of the immortal _Pinafore_: 'I never was upon the sea'." "'What, never?'" queried Rollo, continuing the words of the song. "'Well--hardly ever'. Fact is that until I left Walmer to cross the Channel my longest trip was from Portsmouth to Ryde. I was beastly sea-sick crossing, but I'm jolly glad I'm here. We stand a chance of doing a bit before Kitchener's army gets a sniff of a look-in. We'll do our little bit, never fear. Well, so long; hope to see you again." The division was falling in, preparatory to advancing in open order towards the trenches facing the River Nethe, close to the village of Lierre. Steadfastly, and with the quiet courage that distinguishes Britons under fire, the lads of the Naval Brigade marched into the zone of danger to attempt to stem the advance of the German hordes upon the city of Antwerp. "Ah, messieurs!" exclaimed Major Planchenoît, as the dispatch-riders reported themselves for orders. He was in high spirits, for, like the rest of the Belgian troops, he was greatly cheered by the fact that the long-promised aid was at last forthcoming. "Ah, messieurs! to-day you will report yourselves at Lierre. You will be of service as interpreters, for your gallant fellow-countrymen do not seem particularly well acquainted with our language."