In twenty minutes the _Ithuriel_ ran alongside the _Britain_, which was one of the five most formidable battleships in existence. For five years past a new policy had been pursued with regard to the navy. The flagships, which of course contained the controlling brains of the fleets, were the most powerful afloat. By the time war broke out five of them had been launched and armed, and the _Britain_ was the newest and most powerful of them. Her displacement was twenty-two thousand tons, and her speed twenty-four knots. She was armoured from end to end with twelve-inch plates against which ordinary projectiles smashed as harmlessly as egg-shells. Twelve fourteen-inch thousand-pounder guns composed her primary battery; her secondary consisted of ten 9.2 guns, and her tertiary of twelve-pounder Maxim-Nordenfeldts in the fighting tops. It was the first time that Erskine had seen one of these giants of the ocean, and when they got alongside he said to Denis Castellan: "There's a fighting machine for you, Denis. Great Scott, what wouldn't I give to see her at work in the middle of a lot of Frenchmen and Germans, as the _Revenge_ was among the Spaniards in Grenville's time. Just look at those guns." "Yes," replied Castellan, "she's a splendid ship, and those guns look as though they could talk French to the Frenchies and German to the Dutchmen and plain English to the lot in a way that wouldn't want much translating. And what's more, they have the right men behind them, and the best gun in the world isn't much good without that." At this moment they heard a shrill voice from the forecastle of the nearest destroyer. "Hulloa there, what's the matter?" came from the deck of the _Britain_. "Four French destroyers coming up pretty fast from the south'ard, sir. Seem to be making for the flagship," was the reply. "That's a job for us," said Erskine, who was standing on the narrow deck of the _Ithuriel_, waiting to go on board the _Britain_. "Commander, will you be good enough to deliver this to the Admiral? I must be off and settle those fellows before they do any mischief." The commander of the destroyer took the letter, Erskine dived below, a steel plate slid over the opening to the companion way, and when he got into the conning-tower he ordered full speed. Four long black shapes were stealing slowly towards the British centre, and no one knew better than he did that a single torpedo well under waterline would send Admiral Beresford's floating fortress to the bottom inside ten minutes, and that was the last thing he wanted to see. A quartermaster ran down the ladder and caught the letter from the commander just as the _Ithuriel_ moved off. "Tell the Admiral, with Captain Erskine's compliments, that he'll be back in a few minutes, when he's settled those fellows."