Commander Valentine Gibbs, R.N., who had been struck by a shell while the _Daffodil_ was getting clear, died during the passage, but recovered consciousness before the end to ask faintly if all went well. They eased the passing soul with the assurance that all had gone very well; and in that comfortable knowledge his brave spirit fled. The dawn broadened into day and lit the smouldering docks and debris-strewn mole and the motionless outstretched figures still lying where they fell. It lit the shell-torn upper works of five of His Majesty’s ships which had finished their last commissions: _Thetis_, _Sirius_, _Brilliant_, _Intrepid_ and _Iphigenia_, lying at the gates of the enemy that none might pass out. To these, at a later date, was added the _Vindictive_, and though in time the enemy may dredge and blast the passages clear, though weed and rust will creep over the battered hulls, something will long remain for a testimony of the achievement; something--because of the blood which once stained the splintered decks-- “That is for ever England.” [Illustration] EPILOGUE The shadows were lengthening across the smooth lawns and terrace, and the rooks in the elms behind the stable buildings had begun their evening wrangle for roosting-places when the Ford car came rocking and hooting up the avenue. “Just as well we didn’t go to meet ’em,” murmured Aughtlone on the threshold of the entrance hall, smiling above his half-rolled cigarette. “I don’t see much of the place these days, but I’m expected to hold to speed limits and consider my tenants’ nerves on the King’s highway when I _am_ here. Lorton, of course, is an outlaw by instinct”--Lorton was the chauffeur. “He’s been enjoying himself. To-morrow I shall be requested to restock the poultry yards of four villages and subscribe largely to the cottage hospital, after his devastating passage.” Brakespear, sitting on the top step with his arms about an aged setter, chuckled softly. “You always had a veneration for the law, Tony,” he said, “even in the far-off days when we were cadets and discussed the theory of war----” He raised one finger. “Hark! That’s Jerome. I recognise his dulcet tones.” He stood up shading his eyes. “They’re all there--Mayhew, Longridge, Foster; where’s Jerome? I can hear him.... Oh, there he is! At least, there are his feet sticking up out of the stern-sheets. We’re going to have our dinner-party after all, Tony.”