deathless names — glorious names that make one proud to be of the race that manned and fought them.
Peacefully they rode at their moorings, the water lapping gently at their steel sides, but, as we steamed past, on more than one of them, and especially the grim Tiger, I saw the marks of the Jutland battle in dinted plate, scarred funnel and super-structure, taken when for hours on end the dauntless six withstood the might of the German fleet.
So, as we advanced past these battle-scarred ships, I felt a sense of awe, that indefinable uplift of soul one is conscious of when treading with soft and reverent foot the dim aisles of some cathedral hallowed by time and the dust of our noble dead.
"This afternoon," said the Commander, offering me his cigarette case, "they're going to show you over the Warspite — the German Navy have sunk her so repeatedly, you know. There," he continued, nodding towards a fleet of squat-looking vessels with stumpy masts, "those