made it the more difficult to cope with. And at the crisis, without recourse to any material forces, a man alone changed the course of history.

'Our general made divers speeches to the whole company,' we read, persuading us to love, unity, and regard of our voyage, and for the better confirmation thereof, willed every man the next Sunday following to prepare himself to receive the communion as Christian brethren and friends ought to do, which was done, in very reverend sort; and so with good contentment every man went about his business.'

And so the gates of the new world were not forced as
Magellan had forced them; but unlocked, and Drake
and his men in the 'Golden Hind' passed through.
Truly, almost a religion.

Let us search for a few moments in the by-ways of our sea-story and we shall find traces and evidence of the workings of the sea-spirit which has been vouchsafed for the guidance of those who use the seas, that under its influence they might use their 'guifts' aright. Much we shall find that seems hostile; but where the spirit has been greatest, so also have been the accomplishments, and by no means always in battle.

Here, then, is an example, taken at random. The four days' fight of 1666 is over, and Samuel Pepys has attended the funeral of Sir Christopher Myngs, who fell, on the last day, on board the Victory.' Mortally wounded in the throat, he had remained on deck, holding the wound with his hand, that he might inspire his men to the last. The famous diarist, after noting the absence of any of 'quality' at the funeral, proceeds:

'There happened this extraordinary case, one of the most romantique that ever I heard in my life and could not have believed but that I did see it, which was this: about a dozen able lusty proper men come to the coach side with tears in their eyes, and one of them that spoke for the rest begun and says to Sir W. Coventry; We are here a dozen of us that have long known and loved and served our dead Commander, Sir Christopher Myngs, and have now done the last office of laying him in the ground. We would be glad we had any other to offer after him and in revenge of him. All we have is our lives; if you will please to get His Royal Highness to give us a fire-ship among us all, here is a dozen of us,

out of which choose you one to be Commander and the rest of us, whoever he is, will serve him and if possible do that which shall show our memory to our dead Commander.'

As we pass on, a remark of Sir George Rooke's has more in it than many eloquent sermons. His lawyer had commented on the unexpectedly small amount of money he was disposing of in his will. Not much,' said Sir George; 'but what I have was honestly gotten and never cost a sailor a tear.'

Later again, and this instance is so well known that it is only necessary to mention the name of the 'Centurion.' Sailing with every conceivable disadvantage and handicap, with her crew mostly sick and ea maimed, she achieved an imperishable renown through the spirit which her captain infused into his men. Through plague, pestilence, tempest, and disaster, moves the figure of George Anson, in turn captain, nurse, doctor, carpenter, and general comforter; the embodiment of that spirit of fellowship in service which brought his ship home crowned with honour and glory.

Traceable directly to that which one of his officers, among many, had learned and handed on, is the story of Admiral Duncan, pupil of Keppel, and the crew of the 'Venerable' in the face of an apparently impossible task. And here the spirit shines very brightly, as it penetrates the gloom of the clouds which had gathered and burst in the mutiny at the Nore. Even the 'Venerable' had not altogether escaped the prevailing epidemic, which had left her with only the 'Adamant' in company to blockade the whole Dutch Fleet in the Texel. A week after the symptoms had appeared on board, Duncan addressed his men; no great writer, the draft of his speech has come to us on the backs of envelopes and odd scraps of paper, and its tenour may be gathered from its conclusion: 'God bless you all, and may He always have us under His gracious protection and make us better men.' Note all that is implied in 'us.'

The reply which he evoked is too long to quote in full; but the following extracts will show the atmosphere created :

'Most honoured and worthy Sir-Not having the gift of speech of accosting you in a proper manner, we the ship's

company of the "Venerable" humbly implore your honour's
pardon with hearts full of gratitude and tears in our eyes for
the offence we have given to the worthyest of Commanders,
who has proved a father to us, and as such we shall always
honour you.
Should it be your honour's orders to go to
sea, and should it be our fortune to fall in with the enemy
we flatter ourselves that there is not one man on board the
"Venerable" but what would lose the last drop of his blood
in his body before they should obtain any victory over us.
.. We, therefore, pray and put our trust in the Almighty
God that it may be instilled in our minds the dangerous
snares we have so lately escaped from, which we are too
conscious is unbecoming the character of a Christian in
whose belief we are taught, we have every reason to return
you hearty thanks for bringing to our memory the indiscreet
behaviour of our conduct which was not becoming the
character of British seamen.'

So the tradition held, and held so firmly, that the two ships waited alone, by faith, the coming of the whole Dutch Fleet, where the soundings were such that the Admiral's flag, as Adam Duncan said, 'would continue to fly above the shoal water after the ship and company had disappeared.' Almost a religion. And in due course, as they awaited that which did not fall, the spirit woke again, and one by one the Fleet returned in time for the Venerable' to lead them, in quite unorthodox fashion, to the victory of Camperdown.

Yet once more, and this in the presence of no human foe; but face to face with the daily perils of their calling.

On Christmas Day 1789, the Guardian,' twelve days out from the Cape of Good Hope, collided with an iceberg. In a sinking condition, and apparently with only a few hours of life left to her, three boats put off to take their chance, and Captain Riou sat down on the slanting deck to write a last letter to the Admiralty that they might know the traditions had held.

'Sir,-If ever any part of the officers or crew of the "Guardian" should ever survive to get home, I have only to say that their conduct after the fatal stroke against an island of ice was admirable and wonderful in everything that related to their duties, considered either as private men or His Majesty's servants.'

With a handful of men he remained behind, and at the end of February they drifted into Table Bay and were rescued as the 'Guardian' sank. Captain Riou lived long enough to take the 'Amazon' into action at Copenhagen, and as he unwillingly withdrew in answer to the signal, fell, with the words on his lips, 'What will Nelson think of us?'

Finally, let me quote the testimony of one of our late enemies, who in five words expressed his acknow. ledgment of the sea-spirit for the encouragement of his own men. When the 'Gneisenau' was nearing her end, her captain addressed a farewell message to his men, for, he said, he was not coming with them. Bidding them use every possible effort to keep themselves afloat, and, to that end to keep up their courage, he concluded, 'The English will save you.'

In all these stories, the underlying motive is always s the same; namely, the extinction of any individual interest for the good of ship or shipmate. It follows that, in such cases there remains room for the entry of the grace by which the 'secondary means' may be made ' availeable and beneficiall.'

Nothing is more characteristic of the British seaman, with whom I am best acquainted, than his instinctive tendency to direct his labours solely to the good of his ship. Similarly the ship, as a whole, full of her own individuality as all good ships are, again looks ahead to the honour of her squadron; while in front of the squadron always lies the good of the service.

The whole atmosphere in every 'happy ship,' as the great majority of our ships are, is simply that of fellowship in service; and so in truth becomes almost a religion. It is this characteristic, the peculiar brotherhood of the sea, which, unless it be deliberately impeded by those who are in complete ignorance of its influence as a living force, or for worse reasons, might, through the secondary means of the strange race apart, be used for the unlimited benefit of mankind as perhaps was intended.

The testimony of Lord Beatty, Lord Wemyss, Admiral Sims, and many more, as to the gradual and natural fusion of the Fleets of the United States and Great Britain in the late war, gains striking emphasis in the

recent reception accorded to Sir Lewis Bayley in America by the U.S. Navy. The nature of the sea compliments paid to him and the atmosphere created thereby, cannot be translated into the language of the land; but it would be well for statesmen to make some attempt to understand what forces were at work. This was no official ceremony for the representative of a friendly power; Admiral Bayley was travelling as a private citizen, and the greeting was unexpected. It was, in fact, deep calling to deep, the Spirit of the Sea calling clearly above the turmoil of press and politician. Not to a British Admiral, though his flag was flown with the Stars and Stripes, but to Uncle Lewis.'

Few people probably will recollect an incident which occurred over thirty years ago when another message of good will went forth, under conditions sufficiently dramatic to need no emphasis. It is worth recalling. In 1889, before the post-Jutland-super-Dreadnought had cast her shadow across the gates of the New World, and the business of the Seven Seas none the less went forward with great efficiency, albeit largely under sail, Her Majesty's corvette 'Calliope,' 2770 tons, lay at Apia, Samoa, with three American and three German ships of much the same type, in company.

There they were visited by a hurricane of extraordinary violence. Six of the seven went on shore, four being reported as total losses the next morning. The 'Calliope' damaged by two of them as they dragged, slipped her cable and gathering way inch by inch, at long last successfully steamed into the safety of the open seas at a speed of one knot. And while yet her fate hung in the balance, there came a call which cannot but have eased the strain and strengthened the faith of those who were making the desperate attempt, as they realised whence and why it came. For the cheers which sped the 'Calliope' on her way were led by the American Admiral Kimberly and came from the doomed 'Trenton,' flagship of the United States.

Mahan realised the influence of the saving grace. Great Britain, he says, in the beginning of this century when she was the solitary power of the seas, saved herself and powerfully modified for the better the course of history.

Vol. 235-No. 467.