The fine weather still held and it was a lovely morning. The Fleet looked majestic and awe-inspiring, and as the Torpedo Boat slipped past a mammoth Dreadnought, an outsider comparing the two might have been struck with the versatility of the Navy’s work. Big ships or little, all were marined by the same class of seamen, who never knew from one day to another in what class or size of ship they might be required to carry out their duties. The _Zero_ picked her way between the vessels, Jenkins training his glass on each as she went by. Here the ship’s company were running round the decks to the strains of a lively tune played by the Marine Band, there detachments were parading and squads under gunnery instruction. The Church pendant flown by a third ship indicated that the crew were at prayers, and divisions were mustering to the strains of a bugle call on a fourth. Signals were being hoisted, semaphores were busily waving their arms, and picket boats and trawlers dotted the open spaces between the vessels. It was ‘The Fleet,’ and accustomed to it as he was, the sight sent a thrill through him as he took in the scene. As they cleared the gate and headed for the open sea Burton came up to the bridge. ‘Fine weather for us, sir,’ he remarked, picking up a pair of binoculars. ‘Light breeze and very nearly a flat calm.’ ‘It is. Raymond will have to be pretty cunning if he’s going to get his attacks in unseen to-day. The best weather for him is when there is just a slight lop on the water. In a calm like this we ought to see the “feather” of his old “look-stick”[10] without much difficulty.’ ‘Personally, I haven’t had much practice at picking up periscopes, and it never seems to me to be as easy as it sounds.’ ‘Does take a bit of practice certainly, but with a little---- Hallo, what’s that over there?’ ‘“147” returning,’ he continued, lowering his glasses. ‘Not more than six or seven miles off either. That shows you how hard it is to see ’em even when they’re on the surface. What’s the time?’ ‘Ten to nine, sir,’ said Burton, glancing at his watch. ‘We’d better whack her up to twenty knots then, and we’ll start a zig-zag at once to exercise the helmsman. Raymond will be out any minute now. We’re going to manœuvre anywhere in this area,’ he added, with his finger on the chart, ‘so we ought to be able to see him dive.’ The Torpedo Boat slid through the water with an easy motion. The weather was clear, and here outside the harbour the sea was nearly smooth, and the razor fore-foot cut a great sheaf of water away on either bow as her engines worked up to top speed. Her gun-screws were closed up and her look-outs posted. A large red flag was hoisted at the yard-arm and every eye was kept glued on the harbour mouth, watching for the first sight of ‘123’ on her way out.