With this well-expressed remark Sub-lieutenant Webb gained the head of the bridge-ladder of H.M. armed merchant-cruiser _Portchester Castle_. Contrasted with the brightness of his comfortable cabin the blackness of the night seemed impenetrable. The horned moon, already well down in the western sky, was almost hidden by a rapidly drifting patch of mottled clouds of sufficient density to obscure its pale rays. Slapping viciously against the ship's starboard side were the surging rollers of the Bay of Biscay. With a succession of heavy thuds the waves broke against the vessel's hull, recoiling in masses of phosphorescent foam and at the same time sending clouds of spindrift flying across the …
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