during a series of railway collisions, but tired nature eventually

overcame

the

mixture of pitch, roll, and vibration.

The

I awoke with the first dawn, and, going on deck, found we were off the "Longships light," which looked sickly and wan in the growing day. dangerous rocks extending to the right of the lighthouse, which in old time made the spot a terror to mariners, stood up like giant stepping-stones against the smooth silvery water beyond, contrasting weirdly with the boats tossing in the heavy swell outside. At the rate we were steaming they soon became small in the distance, finally disappearing behind the volumes of brown and purple smoke cast forth by a boat "stoking-up."

the sun beating on deck makes the cabins of these boats like furnaces, the temperature at night soon approximates to that of the Polar regions. On deck, too, it was decidedly chill for an August night, but the scenery was more attractive than below. The red, green, and white lights of our little fleet, some close at hand others far away, gleamed and sparkled across the dark heaving water; while ever and anon showers of sparks burst from the funnels and glinted on the long, dark hulls cutting like knives through the phosphorescent sea.

By and by it was time to turn in, so I crawled below again. Our worthy gunner was already there, utilising a few spare hours for slumber. The sleeping accommodation is very simple. No one undresses in a torpedo-boat; in

stead thereof he dons a

An hour or so later, one of the "seventies" became suddenly enveloped in a cloud of white steam, looking for all the world as though she had blown up. It was merely something gone wrong with the machinery, however, and she was blowing off steam preparatory to adjusting things a bit. The rest of us slowed down speed to five knots, a welcome relief after

TURNING A CIRCLE.

eight hours' vibration. We seized the opportunity for breakfast; but our respite was soon over, and the jumping and jolting began anew, though the sea by this time having gone down somewhat, it was little more inconvenient than standing on top of an omnibus racing down a stony road.

Our course had been well out in the Channel, as we were making a bee-line for Portland, which we sighted early in

the bow into the

the afternoon, and

Suddenly, and without warning, came a change. High up in the air rose our stern; down, down went bosom of a great wave that swept along the deck, foaming and hissing as it came. All around us were white-crested waves and sheets of spray. Our little ship seemed a mere plaything to the sea, but bravely she held her way until the waves subsided as quickly as they had risen. We had passed through the "race" off Portland, a curious phenomenon caused by the set of the tides

evolution, smartly performed. Portland by this time was close at hand. and the flotilla slowing down steamed through the opening in the breakwater, past the Channel fleet, and under the shadow of the great hill on the left, where they came to rest side by side against a high pier. At sunset time we resumed our voyage. What a sun

set it was!

Gold and purple and scarlet clouds tossed wildly above in a crimson sky; on the left the great blue mass of cliff, frowning and pitiless; around and beneath, a black and inky sea.

On Sunday morning one boat was missing, and No. 26-a Thornycroft- -was sent back to look for her. In the now glassy sea, 26 came alongside within hailing distance, and then turning a circle almost in her own length went back on the course, leaving a long foaming track in her wake; the circle she had turned plainly marked in the water. The missing boat was soon found; some trifling defect in the machinery had delayed her; and the squadron at increased speed raced past Dover, passing like a flash innumerable ships going in the same direction. At length the Nore and the red-sailed, barges came in view, low-lying Sheerness Sheernasty, in naval phraseologyhove in sight, and at noon precisely the boats came alongside the dockyard jetty, having been only fortyfour hours on a trip that included three stoppages, besides a four-hour stay at Portland. This performance, conducted without a single mishap of importance, takes the ground from under those who are eternally crying out about break-downs, and it must not be forgotten that it was after five weeks' knocking about and rough usage. The ease with which this (one of several) voyage was made shows clearly that a mosquito fleet is quite

capable of taking the offensive in other places than home waters.

One question that occurs to everyone is, How will the torpedo-boat fare in war time? We have no actual results; but by putting together the experience gained in manoeuvres and the effects of experiments, it is fairly easy to arrive at conclusions as to what is most likely to occur. It is now an axiom that torpedoboats are useless in the daytime-they would be destroyed ere they could get within firing distance for torpedoes, and it is becoming pretty well established that "a boat expected is a boat destroyed." Unless boats attack in numbers, unless the enemy bewilder themselves with search-lights, they have little chance against a prepared foe.

Surprise is the element that will beyond all others pertain to success; but it will have to be coupled with indomitable pluck and disregard of consequences.

The

I have endeavoured in the two illustrations dealing with this subject to show what will happen in such a case. boat steals up until a shot from the enemy shows that concealment is no longer possible. Then it is full speed ahead. Flames rise from the funnel, bullets, shot and shell fall around in a ceaseless hail, darkness, confusion, noise, and flashes. The tubes are already trained, all the officer in charge of them has to do is to wait till the enemy is in line with the sights of the director. The moment comes. If he is still alive there is a flash; the torpedo plunges into the sea. There is a roar like thunder, dull and muffled. A giant wave rises and envelopes the doomed enemy in its embrace, and returning, bears away what remains of the torpedo-boat. Then silence and the blackness of the night.

The torpedo has got home!

T was a queer present to give; but then old Wishart was a 66 queer customer" throughout. So at least said his servants at home and his clerks in the office; and if any one ought to know a man, surely they ought-and indeed these best of all! But a huge bronze toad studded with large ill-cut jewels-a squat, hideous, misshapen monster that seemed alive, if motionless, as it flashed in light and shimmered in the dark-a big black beast carrying on its shining back a veritable king's ransom in diamonds and rubies, emeralds and sapphires-that given to a nephew as a wedding-present seemed to mark a stage of queerness even beyond those already acknowledged.

the

Why not money? The toad was worth a good round sum as he stood. Why not have converted those useless excrescences, which were not even beautiful, into solid cash that would have been useful? Why not indeed! All one

could say was, it was Uncle Wishart's whim; and Uncle Wishart was a man whose whims were not to be gainsaid.

he

"Worth a lot of money, my boy! said, as the bronze monster was haled by half a dozen stout men into young Julian's hall. "Look at those eyes, match 'em if you can! Finest cat's-eyes I've ever seen; and I should know something about 'em. Look at that ruby, that diamond, those sapphires; why! they'd make the fortune of an Amsterdam merchant! Rings on all the toes-yes, all; bracelets round the wrists of him. That necklace of emeralds, now-ever see such beauties? Oh! he's a fine fellow, by Jove! But look here, Julian, this is the. king of the lot!"

He pointed to a large opal in the middle of the bronze forehead; and passed his forefinger over it, caressingly.

"This," he said with a sharp sideways look to his nephew, "is a talisman, Ju. When things have come to the worst with you-if they ever do-screw out this stone, and you will be saved. I forbid you to touch it unless you are in the last straits. You would get a tidy sum for the other stones, if dealt with judiciously,

R R