"Here's luck, Meredith," exclaimed Wakefield. "Five of us are to represent the M.L. flotillas, and have a joy-trip to meet Fritz. The S.N.O.'s just drawn the names. You're one, and so am I, so pack up and get ready. We're to be temporarily accommodated on board the _Lion_." The Day dawned grey and misty as the mighty steel-clad battleships steamed eastward to meet their surrendering foes. Grey predominated everywhere, from the leaden-coloured skies to the leaden-hued water churned by the propellers of a hundred grey-hulled warships. The fluttering White Ensign and the Admirals' flags flying from the leading ships of each division provided a fitting contrast to the otherwise sombre yet soul-inspiring pageant of "Might and Right." "We're taking no risks," thought Meredith, as a bugle rang for "Action Stations." "It only shows how low a Hun's honour is rated." Silently yet rapidly the battle-cruiser's ship's company fell in at their appointed stations. The securing chains of the huge turrets were cast off and the monster guns trained and elevated to test the intricate mechanism. The quick-firers were manned and trained abeam, ammunition was sent up from the magazines, torpedoes launched home into the under-water tubes, fire hoses were coupled up and watertight doors closed. Officers and men, with gas-masks ready to hand, were keenly on the alert, those whose stations prevented them from seeing what was going on without plying their more fortunate comrades with eager questions. Kenneth and Wakefield were standing just under the fore-bridge. Above them every tier of "Monkey Island" bore its quota of sightseers, all looking steadily ahead into the grey mirk in a kind of competition as to who should first discern the masts of the expected Hun ships. "Think they'll show up? If so, will they fight?" asked Wakefield. A naval officer standing by answered him. "They'll show up all right. As to fighting, it's a toss up. Judging from our standpoint, I shouldn't be surprised if they did; but, by Jove! they will be smashed in twenty rounds." The whirr of an aerial propeller sounded overhead, and a large seaplane, literally skimming over the fore-topmast truck, raced noisily eastward, and was lost to sight in the grey dawn. Another, passing well to windward, followed, and then a huge airship, her yellow gas-bag glinting in the pale light, sailed serenely overhead at a great height. The scouts of the modern navy were at work. "They're coming, sir!" announced a messenger, as he flung himself at the bridge ladder. "Airship's just wirelessed through." "Then that's done it--one way or the other," murmured the naval officer. "I look like getting Christmas leave after all."