Turning over in his mind the events of the day, he recalled a long vista of disappointing circumstances. At the outbreak of war, when the Reserves had been called up, he had joined the colours flushed with the thrill of patriotism that many know so well. He had seen himself doing great things, at least doing well, and perhaps ultimately being turned over into the Active Service and fulfilling a long cherished wish. However, after concluding a gunnery course at Whale Island, and making a good show in the examination, he had been sent here as watch-keeper to a depot ship, a parent ship to submarines. At first he had liked the life, but the novelty of his surroundings soon wore off, and he had longed to be at sea again, where there was a chance of doing something. He realised that watch-keepers in harbour ships were necessary, but somehow had always imagined that it wouldn’t fall to his lot to fill one of the billets. Two years of war had found him in the same ship, and to-day he had applied for a transfer into one of the submarines as navigator. The results had not been encouraging. The Captain had told him quite kindly that he felt hardly justified in shifting him at present. He knew what that meant. He hadn’t made a success of his work, and was thought unfit for a boat. It was a bit hard, he considered. He knew he didn’t take much interest in his job, but found it difficult to do so when he saw so many others of his kind going to sea in boats and apparently doing well. If only he could get a chance he felt sure he would do well. But now.... He sighed heavily, and leant over the rail. A side boy approached with a mug of steaming cocoa, his bare feet making scarcely any sound on the wooden deck. ‘Will you ’ave this now, sir?’ he queried. ‘Yes, please, put it on the table.’ He moved across the quarter-deck to the table where lay the log and signal pads, and gazed heavily at the dark blurs of the anchored Fleet. The Corporal and Quartermaster of the Watch were talking in undertones by the gangway. Then five bells struck, and the sound was echoed from the neighbouring ships and died away in the distance. The ship swung to the turn of the tide, and he went up to the bridge and checked the position by shore-bearings, keeping a good eye on the other vessels to see that they would swing clear. Up here a sleepy-eyed signalman and two signal-boys were passing the time by restoring flags to the lockers, and the night seemed very still and quiet. Then a visit forward to the anchor watch and back to the quarter-deck again, to continue the slow pacing up and down to keep the cold out. He glanced at his watch and yawned. Nearly three o’clock. Only another hour of it. Up and down the quarter-deck, up and down ... with the knowledge that at any rate aboard each of the darkened and silent vessels around him a comrade in distress was performing the same penance....