Behind Sir George Callaghan's flagship came the four First Fleet battle squadrons, including twenty-nine vessels of the vastest power in the whole world. In the first and second squadrons were eight Dreadnoughts, in the third squadron eight of the great ships that were built before the all-big-gun ships became the first line of our Navy, and in the fourth squadron were three more Dreadnoughts and the Agamemnon.[25] Following these were the smart cruisers of the First Fleet—swift, armed ships that act as the fighting scouts of the seas. In their wake passed fifty-six torpedo destroyers, moving in sections of fours. By the time the last of the First Fleet ships had passed the King's yacht, the leading vessels were far away on the horizon.
A slight pause, and then the Second and Third Fleets began to appear, led by the Lord Nelson and the Prince of Wales respectively. When these ships had saluted their sovereign there still remained the cruisers attached to these fleets. Never had such an array been seen before in the history of the world—twenty-two miles of warships in endless columns, gliding slowly through the water, every one of them a tower of strength and a mighty engine of destruction. Not only was every type of warship represented, but the new powers of the air were visible. Scores of seaplanes and aeroplanes flew over the King's yacht like huge birds of prey.
Such was Britain's display of naval strength at the moment when the issue of war or peace was hanging in the balance. It was a sign to the world that, whatever might befall, Britain was ready, aye ready, to guard her own with the strong arm of ancient renown:—
"Come the four quarters of the world in arms, And we shall shock them."
"It's a long, long way to Tipperary," sing our soldiers on the march, and it's a long, long way from Spithead to the Servian capital, Belgrade, whither we must now wend our way. On a bright, sunny morning, when the train has clattered across the iron bridge which spans the Danube, and the city comes into view, it looks very attractive. Belgrade in the distance well deserves its title of the "White City." A poetically minded person has described it as "shining like a pearl through the silvery mists of sunrise."
Prince Albert, the King's second son, as a midshipman. This photograph was taken during the King's inspection of the Fleet.
Photo, Ernest Brooks.
In the 'seventies Belgrade was a miserable, dirty, and comfortless town; its main thoroughfare was a sea of mud; its buildings were poor; and it was no better than a tumble-down Turkish fortress. But since those days Servia has become an independent kingdom, and she has made Belgrade a really fine city, with broad, tree-fringed streets, electric trams, and fine hotels. Only two of the ancient landmarks remain—the cathedral, and the citadel, over which flies the national flag. Through modern Belgrade runs a fine street more than a mile long, overtopped about the middle by the golden domes of the new palace. Here are the principal hotels, private houses, and shops, the latter of which blaze with electric light in the evenings. The people of Belgrade sometimes call their town "Little Paris," and they strive to make it as gay as the French capital itself.
