It turned into in August, 1907, one Tuesday morning, that I landed from a P. & O. steamer at Gibraltar. I had now no longer been there earlier than however I knew what to count on. From a distance of many miles we had visible the Rock towering above the city and dwarfing the massive, smoking guys-of-conflict that lay at anchor at its base. Ashore turned into to be visible 'Tommy Atkins,' simply as one sees him in England, taking walks spherical with a touch cane or status stiff with bayonet constant earlier than a tall kennel, beside him, as though for safety, a 'Bobbie.'