Beneath all that again, far below the surface of the grey North Sea, were men, moving about purring turbines and dynamos and webs of stupendous machinery, silently oiling, testing and adjusting a thousand moving joints of metal. There were adjoining caverns lit by the glare of furnaces that shone red on the glistening faces of men, silent vaults and passages where the projectiles were ranged in sinister array, and chilly spaces in which the electric light was reflected from the burnished and oiled torpedoes that hung in readiness above the submerged tubes. Thorogood raised his eyes and stared out across the vast array of the Battle-fleet. Obedient to the message flashed from the Flagship a few minutes earlier, the Light Cruisers that had been invisible on the quarter now emerged from behind the curtain of the mist and were rapidly moving up to a new position. Presently the same mysterious, soundless voice spoke again: YOU ARE MAKING TOO MUCH SMOKE blinked the glittering searchlight, and anon in the stokeholds of the end ship of the lee line there was the stokehold equivalent for weeping and wailing and the gnashing of teeth.... For a couple of hours the Fleet surged onwards in silence and unchanged formation. The swift Light Cruisers had overtaken the advancing Battle-fleet, and vanished like wraiths into the haze ahead. The Captain and the Navigator had joined Thorogood on the bridge, and were poring over the chart and talking in low voices. The Midshipman of the Watch stood with eyes glued to the range-finder, turning his head at intervals to report the distance of the next ahead to the Officer of the Watch. A messenger from the Coding Officer tumbled pell-mell up the ladder and handed a piece of folded paper to the Captain, saluted, turned on his heel and descended the ladder again. The Captain unfolded the signal and read with knitted brows. Then he turned quickly to the chart again. For a moment he was busy with dividers and parallel-rulers; when he raised his head his eyes were alight with a curiously restrained excitement. "Rather interesting," he said, and passed the paper to the Navigator who read it in turn and grinned like a schoolboy. "They have probably caught a raiding party in the mist, sir," he said, and bent over the chart. Thorogood picked up the message and pursed his lips up in a short, soundless whistle. "It's too much to hope that their main fleet's out," he said. "Their main fleet's sure to be in support somewhere," replied the Captain. "It's a question whether they realise we're all down on top of 'em, though, and nip for home before we catch them." A second messenger flung himself, panting, up the ladder, and handed in a second message. "Intercepted wireless to Flag, sir." The Captain read it and took a breath that was like a sigh of relief. "At last!" he said. The Navigator turned from the chart. "_Der Tag_, sir?" he asked interrogatively with a smile.