So long as the mines were on board, no relaxation of discipline could be permitted, and in order to keep the men well occupied, infantry and rifle practice were added to the ship drills, and formal inspections of ships were begun. The prospect of these inspections always keys things up. All ships did well, but the last one inspected, _Roanoke_, Captain Stearns, surpassed all expectation, being a model—judged by the highest standard—of efficient organization, training, and administration, pervaded by a uniformly high and loyal spirit. One great test was to rig for getting the mines out in case of fire—though a forlorn hope at best, since 15 minutes (the time in which the mines would explode when exposed to fire) would scarcely suffice to begin discharging. The promise of Commander Beck, _Roanoke’s_ executive officer, to be ready in 10 minutes was received by his colleagues with derision. When the test came, he stood quietly by, letting his men work without coaching. A flicker of patient resignation came over his face as he saw that some zealot had disabled one of the winches to be used by putting oil on the friction-clutch, because “it looked like bright work.” But in spite of the consequent delay, all was ready in only _six_ minutes. “I thought I was some little executive myself,” said one colleague, “but I’ve got nothing more to say.” Fortunately the quarantine was raised in time for full enjoyment of our last week in the Highlands. Our friends omitted nothing in hospitality and goodwill. Entertaining on board had been an extreme rarity during the minelaying, but now it could be permitted, and the squadron had the honor of a visit from The Mackintosh of Mackintosh, chief of Clan Chattan, colonel of the Cameron Highlanders, lord lieutenant of Invernesshire, who had been most hospitable to us. All the captains were assembled on board the _San Francisco_ to receive him and afterwards to lunch with him. He inspected the crew and ship with Captain Butler, his first visit to an American man-of-war since 1870 in Gibraltar, on board the old _Kearsarge_. Chancing to ask a man’s name, the reply “Scott, sir,” made everything after that go smoothly.