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fifty tons, and I saw she belonged to the Squadron from the
white ensign. So Scaife and I went down to the harbour and
hired a boatman for an afternoon’s fishing.
I spent a warm and peaceful afternoon. We caught be-
tween us about twenty pounds of cod and lythe, and out in
that dancing blue sea I took a cheerier view of things. Above
the white cliffs of the Ruff I saw the green and red of the
villas, and especially the great flagstaff of Trafalgar Lodge.
About four o’clock, when we had fished enough, I made the
boatman row us round the yacht, which lay like a delicate
white bird, ready at a moment to flee. Scaife said she must
be a fast boat for her build, and that she was pretty heavily
engined.
Her name was the ARIADNE, as I discovered from the
cap of one of the men who was polishing brasswork. I spoke
to him, and got an answer in the soft dialect of Essex. An-
other hand that came along passed me the time of day in
an unmistakable English tongue. Our boatman had an ar-
gument with one of them about the weather, and for a few
minutes we lay on our oars close to the starboard bow.
Then the men suddenly disregarded us and bent their
heads to their work as an officer came along the deck. He
was a pleasant, clean-looking young fellow, and he put a
question to us about our fishing in very good English. But
there could be no doubt about him. His close-cropped head
and the cut of his collar and tie never came out of England.
That did something to reassure me, but as we rowed back
to Bradgate my obstinate doubts would not be dismissed.
The thing that worried me was the reflection that my en-

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