A great, long, gray shape moved swiftly through the waters of the
Thames. Smoke, pouring from three different points in the middle of
this great shape, ascended, straight in the air some distance, then,
caught by the wind, drifted westward.

It was growing dark. Several hours before, this ocean greyhound--one of
Great Britain's monster sea-fighters--had up-anchored and left her
dock--where she had been undergoing slight repairs--heading eastward
down the river.

Men lined the rails of the monster ship. These were her crew--or some
of her crew, to be exact--for the others were engaged in duties that
prevented them from waving to the crowds that thronged the shore--as
did the men on deck.

Sharp orders carried across the water to the ears of those on shore.
The officers were issuing commands. Men left the rail and disappeared
from the view of the spectators as they hurried to perform their
duties. Came several sharp blasts of the vessel's siren; a moment later
her speed increased and as she slid easily through the waters of the
river, a cheer went up from both shores.

The crowd strained its eyes. Far down the river now the giant
battleship was disappearing from the sight of the men and women who
lined the banks. In vain, a few moments later, did many eyes try to
pierce the darkness. The battleship was lost to sight.

The vessel that had thus passed down the Thames was H. M. S. _Queen
Mary_, one of the most formidable of England's sea fighters. It was
with such ships as the _Queen Mary_, supported by smaller and less