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arranged accommodations for him on the U.S.S. Minneapolis when it had been part of the Special Service Squadron.  Singleton had helped design and set up the complicated photoheliographs used by the Squadron during its expedition to the Mediterranean to study the eclipse of 1905.  Rumor had it that he was with the Atlantic Fleet to observe the effects of twelve-inch shells in case they came up against the Japanese.
    Ever since they destroyed the Baltic Fleet, the Japanese had begun to think of the Pacific as their personal swimming hole.  Did Roosevelt anticipate a sea battle with their little Asian brothers, Kaiser Wilhelm's 'yellow peril'?  If so, Singleton's presence made sense.  It was always a good idea to have a scientist around who could explain a catastrophe.
    The British had given Singleton his most potent source of sarcasm to date.  For a long time they had heard rumors that the Limeys were working on an entirely new kind of battleship. On October 3, 1906, it fell that, once again, the grapevine of the oceans was accurate as ever. The H.M.S. Dreadnought would give its name to an entire class of ships.  The particulars were dribbling out - - not that the British Admiralty was trying to keep their new toy a secret.  The Dreadnought could out - gun, out - race, out - maneuver and out - last anything afloat, so the Royal Navy said.  And truth be known, as more and more details of the ship were learned, more than one non - English salt sadly agreed.
    "We're sailing in antiques, gentlemen," Singleton had stated flatly a few days earlier.  "The Dreadnought could sail into Hampton Roads and flatten fleet, towns and coastline in two hours.  How is that for progress?"
    There were plenty of officers who agreed with this observation, but they kept their doubts to themselves.  Had any one of them been caught disparaging the Fleet the way the good doctor did, he might not only be reprimanded, but cashiered as well.
    For days, an easterly had whipped the ships with fifty mile an hour winds.  A cold gust now blew in from the Florida's starboard quarter.  Hundreds of hats flew into the air and there was a mad scramble as the sailors and marines chased their headgear in circles.  Raising himself on his toes, Captain Oates could just make out Singleton's straw hat prominent among the runaways. The doctor watched as Midshipman Davis ran to and fro, chasing the treacherous air currents beneath the turrets.  Oates thought it would be a fine thing if he could see the last of that damn hat, so casual, so... peaceful .  What the hell was he doing wearing sunshine straw on this cold, blustery day?
    Oates crossed his fingers.  Singleton's hat was still on the loose.  The midshipman looked like a lame spider as he dodged this way and that in his attempts to retrieve it.  Picture the doctor's grim visage if it flew over the port railing!  His blustering at naval inefficiency would attain Lincolnian eloquence if his straw was lost.
    Midshipman Davis ran head-on into a marine who was chasing after his own short-visored hat.  They went down in a spastic jumble of gangly arms and legs.  The marine hopped up and went his way without a second glance at the sailor.  Oates experienced a twinge of sympathy for the junior officer fresh out of Annapolis.
    "Blasted way to run a navy," he groused, turning to his executive officer, Lieutenant Grissom.
    "The president has reached the Connecticut ," the exec blandly informed him.
    "Yes...."
     
    Bounding up from the barge, Roosevelt landed on the deck at a gallop and charged over to the admiral of his choice, leaving a martial ring in the Swiss cheese plates and an OOD who could only nod amiably.
    In fact, Evans was only a rear admiral.   There were four other rear admirals with the Fleet, so he was only unique by presidential fiat.  Fighting Bob Evans had desperately wanted the status of full admiral conferred on him in advance of the expedition.  But after granting Admiral "You -