“It is a pity,” at last said a regular Navy Lieutenant, “that submarines are no good against other submarines. That is a weakness which we must seek to overcome if, as seems likely in the future, navies contain more under-water boats than any other craft.” “That is not quite true,” spoke up a grizzled Royal Naval Reserve man, and told a story of submarine _v._ submarine which I am not permitted to repeat. * * * * * “Yes,” said the Commander of the _Utopia_ (The Pongo’s ship). “Very clever and very ingenious. But did you ever hear how the Navy, not the merchant service this time, caught a submarine off the —— Lightship. That was finesse, if you please, Mr. Royal Naval Reserve.” Our young marine hugged himself. He had set the Navy talking, and when the Navy talks there come forth things which make glad the ears. “You know the —— Lightship,” went on the Commander, a sea potentate of thirty-five, with a passion for music-hall songs which he sang most divinely. “She is anchored on a shoal which lies off the entrance to one of the busiest of our English harbours. Though her big lantern is not lighted in war time the ship remains as a day mark, and two men are always on board of her. She is anchored on the top of a sandbank where at low water there are not more than twelve feet, though close by the channels deepen to thirty feet. A little while ago the men in the Lightship were interested to observe a German submarine approach at high water—of course submerged—and to take up a position about a hundred yards distant where the low-water soundings were twenty-two feet. There she remained on the bottom from tide to tide, watching through her periscope all the shipping which passed in and out of the harbour. Her draught in cruising trim was about fourteen feet, so that at high water she was completely submerged except for the periscope and at low water the top of her conning tower showed above the surface. At high tide she slipped away with the results of her observations. The incident was reported at once to the naval authorities and the lightship men were instructed to report again at once if the submarine’s performance was repeated. A couple of days later, under the same conditions, Fritz in his submarine came back and the whole programme of watchfully waiting was gone through again. He evidently knew the soundings to a hair and lay where no destroyer could quickly get at him through the difficult winding channels amid the sandbanks except when the tide was nearly at the full. Even at dead low water he could, if surprised, rise and float and rapidly make off to where there was depth enough to dive. He couldn’t be rushed, and there were three or four avenues of escape. Fritz had discovered a safe post of observation and seemed determined to make the most of it. But, Mr. Royal Naval Reserve, even the poor effete old Navy has brains and occasionally uses them. The night after the