made his way to the fo'c'sle. "A glass of brandy and water will do wonders. Hallo! What's this?"  

For the young officer had made the disconcerting discovery that in the "wash" of the destroyers the frying-pan had jumped off the stove, and four rashers lay stuck to the fo'c'sle floor in their own fat, whilst rivulets of dried grease had traced fancy patterns on the sides of the lockers and over a bundle of spare sails. To complete the disorder, a can of paraffin and a tin full of soda had come into violent contact, with the result that the contents of both gave additional flavour to the stranded rashers. But for this, Hamerton might have replaced the bacon in the frying-pan, reflecting that much of the pleasure of yachting consists in tolerating discomforts. He drew the line at rashers à la soda and paraffin.  

"You'll have to whistle for hot grub, Detroit," he called out. "There's a most unholy mess for'ard. Hot coca and biscuits are the best I can do."  

Detroit's reply was to give a tremendous salute upon the foghorn, an action that brought the Sub on deck.  

"Destroyers are coming back," announced the American, "and the fog is as thick as ever it has been. We've tumbled into a regular hornet's nest of torpedo craft."  

Five minutes later the sharp rattle of quick-firers announced that the battleship had been attacked by the destroyers, a form of practice that is regularly gone through by the Kaiser's ships. Then all was quiet.  

Two more hours sped. The Diomeda still maintained her course, slipping through the fog-enshrouded water at a bare four knots.  

The German sailor, having been given a "stiff peg", was able to sit up. Beyond feeling stiff and bruised by reason of his fall, he was little the worse for his immersion, and, upon being questioned, gave his replies in an intelligent and straightforward manner.  

His name, he said, was Hans Pfeil. His rank corresponded to that of Chief Yeoman of Signals in the British navy. His ship was S167, one of, the most powerful of the Elbing-built destroyers, and belonging to the Second Division of the Borkum flotilla. The boats had left Borkum at midnight to deliver an attack upon the battleship Hannover.  

"What was the approximate position of the division when you fell overboard?" asked Hamerton.  

"Twenty miles due west of 

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