Position lights winked amongst the assembled fleet as a squadron of battle cruisers loomed up, black as doom, in the entrance of the bay. One by one in line ahead they passed to their anchorage and picked up their berths with a thunderous roar of cables. “Clear hawse!” cried the battle squadrons from their orderly lines. This is the greeting from ships at anchor to those that enter harbour. “Clear hawse to you,” said the new-comers. They were on a visit from a more southerly base and there was a good deal of ceremonious exchange of compliments between them and the battleships. “Hope you’ll find the billets to your liking,” said the latter, “plenty of swinging room and so on. Oilers will be alongside at daybreak, but in the meanwhile if there is anything you’d like ...?” The visitors said they wanted nothing, and were most comfortable. As if to show how at home they were, they all swung in different directions and sprawled their 25,000-ton bulks abroad on the dark face of the waters. “Waal, boys!” drawled a voice from the American battle squadron. “What’s the noos from down your way?’ “Hullo, old flick!” exclaimed the battle cruiser flagship. “Hope you’re keeping gay up here?” The American chuckled and the laugh ran round the lattice-masted ships. “We surely are,” was the reply. “Say, you missed a joyous stunt last week----” he lowered his voice, for the fleet flagship has long ears. “Fleet exercises, an’ we came back in the durndest fog ever. Tumbled slap on top of a U-boat cruiser; guess he got sucked to the surface in the wash of our _pro_-pellors; we were churning up most of the cod banks of the North Sea. Sir, he was the sickest-looking U-boat that ever jined the flotilla of the dead men when we’d finished with him.” The battle cruisers expressed courteous credulity and congratulation. “Couldn’t see the British flagship,” said the ship who had done most of the business of dispatching the enemy. “But when it was all over, my cap’n--say, d’you know my cap’n? Some seaman!--waal, he jest flicked a wireless signal along to the British admiral: ‘Sunk a German U-boat cruiser, latitood so an’ so, longitood something else--WHERE AM I?’” Again the laughter rippled round the American squadron. It made you think of some family chuckling in obscure enjoyment of one of its own jokes. The battle cruisers considered it, chewed the cud of it in silence, and gave it up. “You don’t tumble? Waal, Commander-in-chief didn’t tumble either. Took a long time to think it over an’ then answered: ‘Your signal received. Last sentence not understood. Congratulate you.’” The battle cruiser flagship felt that the time had come to say something. “Well, that was very nice. What--what would an American commander-in-chief have said?” “An Ammurican? An Ammurican admiral, sir, would have answered: ‘Where are you? TOP OF THE CLASS, MY SON!’ You Britishers are very im-purturbable....”