My promotion was rapid, for my family seems to inherit naval lore.
These are the utility naval vessels that have transformed the navies of old, which burdened the peoples with taxes for their support, into the present day fleets of self-supporting ships that find ample time for target practice and gun drill while they bear freight and the mails from the continents to the far-scattered island of Pan-America.
To cross thirty or one hundred seventy-five has been, as you know, the direst calamity that could befall a naval commander.
You all are familiar with the naval tradition that a good officer could sense proximity to either line, and for my part, I am firmly convinced of the truth of this as I am that the compass finds the north without recourse to tedious processes of reasoning.
It recalled to my mind tales that I had read of the good old days when naval vessels were built to fight, when ships of peace had been man-of-war, and guns had flashed in other than futile target practice, and decks had run red with blood.
He spread his maps, he had to talk, and so he delivered a lecture on the naval situation to Bert.
The naval situation in the North Atlantic at that time was a peculiar one.
This was the naval situation, and until Wednesday in Whit week it was the only situation the American people had realised.
Either there was no news of the naval battle that morning, or the Prince kept to himself whatever came until past midday.
In the night the struggling naval battle and retreat had entered upon a new phase.