Just before eleven two large coastal airships were seen making over Sableridge. Manoeuvred with a skill acquired by long practice, the huge gasbags began to circle over the depot, one of their crew actually attempting to remove the Colonel's flag from the masthead of the flagstaff outside the officers' quarters. By means of semaphore a lively exchange of compliments passed between the airmen up aloft and the airmen on the ground, while the former continued to show their stunt turns in a manner that caused the onlookers to anticipate a collision with the chimney-pots. Then, describing a curve over the harbour, one of the airships dropped an object to which was attached a bunch of streamers. With a splash the thing struck the water and floated vertically. It was the missing stick. Promptly a motor-boat pushed off from the pier and retrieved the returned property, then, with a final exchange of compliments, the two Blimps flew back to their sheds. Next morning the signal officer's face looked grave. A letter, purporting to be an official document, had been handed to him. It was signed "Senior Naval Officer, Fisherton", and requested an explanation why a White Ensign, the jealously-guarded emblem of the pukka Royal Navy, was flown from the gaff of the flagstaff of a Royal Air Force establishment. The whole thing was a hoax on the part of Dixon, the Lieutenant, R.N.V.R., commanding the guard-ship at Sableridge, and the R.A.F. signal officer "bit it badly". It was not until a reply had been drafted and submitted to the Commanding Officer of the depot that Dixon let the cat out of the bag. It was the first round of a friendly contest between the R.N. and the R.A.F., and the former was "one up". When the men fell in parade that next morning the White Ensign was not flying. In its place dangled a large earthenware jug, a silent tribute on the part of the Sableridge signalling officer to the guard-ship officer's capacity for stowing away mild ale. It was as well that it was armistice week and the C.O. was in a tolerant mood, for the incident passed off without rebuke. R.N. and R.A.F. were now "honours even". Next day the guard-ship was to be "paid off". After four years she was to be released from her moorings and towed back to Fisherton, and the departure of a time-honoured veteran could not take place without a farewell demonstration on the part of the Royal Air Force at Sableridge. At two o'clock in the morning a small but desperate band of adventurers turned out of their camp-beds. There were Derek Daventry, clad in trench-coat, pyjamas, sea-boots, and muffler; Dennis, the Adjutant, muffled in a sweater, two greatcoats, and a pair of flying-boots; Wells, the signalling officer, and Kaye. The latter carried a small bundle of rag liberally smeared with vaseline. It was a pitch-dark night. The stars were obscured by heavy, low-lying clouds. A keen easterly wind moaned through the fortress and hummed through the rigging of the guard-ship.