For the Germans fought bravely and skilfully on occasion during the first years of the war. One gathers that it was not until the end that their _moral_ began to weaken. They thought that they could shake the _moral_ of the British Navy by methods of frightfulness, by the cold-blooded murder of the survivors of sinking ships, and so forth. But it was their own _moral_ that failed at last. For this parvenu German Navy, good though its ships and good its personnel, was lacking in one essential--the tradition that inspires our own Navy, the significance of which tradition the German, who knows not chivalry, is incapable of understanding. A Navy with an old and glorious tradition could not have surrendered itself, as did the German Navy, without having come out and made a fight--if hopeless fight--of it, as did the Spanish ships off Cuba and the Russians at Chemulpo, so saving the honour of their flag. It is part of the tradition, too, of the British Navy at all cost to stand by a friend in distress. It will be remembered that at the beginning of the war two important ships were torpedoed while rescuing the crews of sinking consorts, and that this led to the issue of an Admiralty order to the effect that no heavy ships must risk valuable material by undertaking this dangerous work, which should be left to the light craft. The zeal that comes of an old tradition may need checking at times, but it leads to victory in the end. Had the _Bluecher_ belonged to a Navy with a tradition, it is improbable that she would have been deserted, as she was, by the Germans after her disablement. To any Englishman who, in these days of the armistice, looks across Harwich harbour and the broad estuary of the Stour, that scene, composed of grey wintry sky, grey sea, and grey warships at anchor, will remain to him as a stirring memory. For those are the light cruisers and destroyers of the Harwich Force, and there, too, is the Submarine Flotilla--all these have fought in the Great War; some throughout the war; while others have joined the force later to replace ships that have been lost in action. On board these ships are still the crews that fought them. No doubt shortly ships and men will be dispersed. But at present they remain here in readiness, for it is not Peace yet. Higher up the Stour, a token of victory, lie the surrendered German submarines, on account of their dirty condition more plainly visible through the haze than are our own ships; for the Huns, naturally, before giving them up, wasted no paint on the outside of these craft, and certainly no soap within.