“ ... Yesterday all Kiel was beflagged: we were to have had a half-holiday on the occasion of the trials of the great new battle cruiser----. Owing to an unforeseen incident, however, the trials were not completed. Our half-holiday has been postponed indefinitely....” VI. “TUPPENCE APIECE” The herring were in the bay, and the fleet of sailing smacks went trailing out on the light wind with their eager crews of old men and boys straining at the halliards to catch the last capful of wind. After them came the armed guard-boat of the little peaceful fleet, a stout trawler with a gun in her bows, fussing in the wake of her charges. The skipper of the guard-boat was at the wheel, a tall, gaunt old man with a fringe of grey whisker round his jaws and a mouth as tight as a scar. He it was who located the herring and placed the fleet across their path, and all that day the smacks lay to their nets till the porpoises turned inshore and drove the silvery host eastward. After them went the smacks, with holds half-full, lured on by the promise of two quarters’ rent as good as paid. Finally, the old Trawler Reserveman checked the pursuit. “Fish or no fish,” he cried. “Here ye [Illustration] bide the night.” They had reached the limit of the safety zone in those waters, and he rounded up his flock like a sagacious sheep-dog, counting the little craft carefully ere he took up his position to seaward of them for the night. At the first hint of dawn he weighed anchor and counted again: his grim old face darkened. He turned to seaward where the sky was lightening fast, and searched the mist through glasses. Three smacks were discernible some miles outside their allotted area. The burly mate stood beside his father, and watched the delinquents hauling in their nets with a speed that hinted at an uneasy conscience. “They’m drifted in a bit of a tide rip, mebbe?” he ventured. The old man growled an oath. “Tide rip? Nay! They’m just daft wi’ greed. There’s no wit nor dacency in their sodden heads. An’ I’ll larn ’em both. By God I’ll larn ’em to disobey my orders.” ... He watched the far-off craft hoisting sail, with eyes grey and cold as flints beneath the bushy brows. “Aye,” he said threateningly, “I’ll larn ye ...” and clumped forward to the wheel-house. The sun had not yet risen, and the thin morning mists wreathed the face of the waters. As the trawler gathered way a sudden flash of light blinked out of the mist to the northward. The report of a gun was followed by the explosion of a shell fifty yards on the near side of the most distant fishing-smack. The trawler skipper measured the distance from the flash to the fishing fleet, and thence to the truants bowling towards them on the morning breeze.