The defect note is finished at last and assumes huge proportions. Pink and blushing as it well may be, it begins with the lifting of the batteries and the overhauling of the cells, wanders through the stripping of the engines, the testing of the tanks, and the dry-docking of the boat, and comes to rest at last with the painting of the internal economy and the re-fitting of certain shelves (they were never there before) on which the captain wishes to place his boots presumably, on his return to sea. The alteration list is a quick breath of hope from a fervent heart yet sick with longing. But here again Admiralty steps in and allows or not, as the case may be, the placing of the wine locker above or under the chest of drawers, as the case may or may not be again. Won’t she want painting by the time it’s all finished. The ‘Demand’ notes are made out in triplicate and signed to the bitter end. The ‘Survey and Demand Notes’ are made out in quadruplicate, but mercy of mercies, only one need be signed by the long-suffering captain of the boat. The stacks of paper rise, and rise, and blow away, and are picked up and blow away again. But at last they are finished, and thanks to them and the brains that conceived them, when the submarine gets to work, her re-fit will run like clockwork and no hitch will occur despite the multiplicity and diversity of the trades and workmen who will be employed upon her. Youth scoffs in its ignorance at the filling in of forms, but age and wisdom walk hand in hand and bow to the minds that ordained these things, having seen the results and gone away ... marvelling. For the results are good, and good is good all the world over, and no man but a sniveller can expect any better praise. But Admiralty expects no praise at all, for she is very old and very very wise, and knowing, winks one eye and smiles. So the maze of papers straightens itself out, gives a shake, nears completion, and lo, the preparations _are_ completed. Three days gone, and on the fourth ‘123’ can hurry down to Darlton, with the assurance that whatever else happens _her_ re-fit will go smoothly enough. Nothing can interfere with that, for her paper-work is complete and all in order, and things will move. No rush, no hurry, but a steady marching to an appointed end. Small things, but the outcome of hundreds of years of experience and waiting, and the results have been, and are being, felt all the world over. As Raymond signed the last chit and sealed the final envelope he heaved a sigh of relief. The last form was filled and despatched and all was ready for the morrow. The ward room made merry over the event and several guests were invited to dinner, among whom was Clinton, the captain of H.M. Destroyer _Master_, who was to escort ‘123’ down to Darlton. After dinner the Destroyer man wandered down to Raymond’s cabin and the two sat over their charts discussing plans for the morrow.