OCTOBER 25.

[Sidenote:  British destroyers fight raiders.]

[Sidenote:  The Admiral strict as a Prussian.]

Where did you hear that about two destroyers being sunk off the coast of Ireland on September 3?  False alarm.  Of course, you have read in the papers about the convoy destroyed in the North Sea by German raiders.  The two British destroyers with the convoy stood up to them and fought as a bulldog would fight a tiger—­and with the same result.  Somebody was arguing with the Admiral, our boss, to the effect that it would have been better for them to have saved themselves, trailed the raiders, and sent radio, so that the British cruisers could have intercepted and destroyed them.  Said the Admiral, “Yes, it would have been better, but I would court-martial and shoot the man that did it.”  He’s a wonder to serve under, as grim and strict as a Prussian, but very just, and runs things in a way that secures all our admiration—­though we may fuss a bit when, expecting two or three comfortable days in port, we get chased out on short notice into a raving gale outside.

A BRITISH DOCK YARD, NOVEMBER 4.

[Sidenote:  A friend on hospital duty.]

There are lots of our army people here.  Some of them are just passing through, while others are stationed at near-by training camps or hospitals.  I was wandering around the big hotel here, when I saw a familiar face in army uniform, and who should it be but M——.  Much joy!  He is near here, on temporary duty at a British hospital.  I had him over to the ship for lunch, and hope to see him again.  I certainly respect that boy.  He has no military ambitions, and wishes the war were over, so he could get back to his wife and children; but he answered the call while others were hiding behind volleys of language, and he is here to see it through.  I am afraid he is homesick and lonely, for it is harder for a boy who does not know the English than for us hardened mercenaries, who are accustomed to hobnob with everybody from Cubans to Cossacks.

[Sidenote:  The American uniform and the British.]

I will be glad when American Army and Navy uniforms are designed by a tailor who really knows something about it.  Alas, our people are distinctly inferior to the British in the cut of their jib.  I think it is the high standing collar that queers us.  It is only at its best when one stands at Attention—­head up, chest out, arms at side—­being distinctly a parade uniform.  The British, with their rolling collar, and coat tight where it may be, and loose where it needs to be, are, you might say, less military and better dressed.

Tell the Enfant that I am very proud when he gets gold honor-marks on his school-papers, and I think that it probably means about the same as a star on a midshipman’s collar. (That ought to get him.)