es, to be sure.
The danger of striking a mine was never absent, once we neared the
British coasts. There was always the chance, we knew, that some
German raider might have slipped through the cordon in the North Sea.
But the terrors that were to follow the crime of the _Lusitania_ still
lay in the future. They were among the things no man could foresee.

The _Orduna_ brought us safe to the Mersey and we landed at Liverpool.
Even had there been no thought of danger to the ship, that voyage would
have been a hard one for us to endure. We never ceased thinking of John,
longing for him and news of him. It was near Christmas, but we had small
hope that we should be able to see him on that day.

All through the voyage we were shut away from all news. The wireless
is silenced in time of war, save for such work as the government
allows. There is none of the free sending, from shore to ship, and
ship to ship, of all the news of the world, such as one grows to
welcome in time of peace. And so, from New York until we neared the
British coast, we brooded, all of us. How fared it with Britain in
the war? Had the Hun launched some new and terrible attack?

[ILLUSTRATION: "I did not stop at sending out my recruiting band. I
went out myself.". (See Lauder02.jpg)]

But two days out from home we saw a sight to make us glad and end our
brooding for a space.

"Eh, Harry--come and look you!" someone called to me. It was early in
the morning, and there was a mist about us.

I went to the rail and looked in the direction I was told. And there,
rising suddenly out of the mist, shattering it, I saw great, gray
ships--warships--British battleships and cruisers. There they were,
some of the great ships that are the steel wall around Britain that
holds her safe. My heart leaped with joy and pride at the sight of
them, those great, gray guardians of the British shores, bulwarks of
steel that fend all foemen from the rugged coast and the fair land
that lies behind it.

Now we were safe, ourselves! Who would not trust the British navy,
after the great deeds it has done in this war? For there, mind you,
is the one force that has never failed. The British navy has done
what it set out to do. It has kept command of the seas. The
submarines? The tin fish? They do not command the sea! Have they kept
Canada's men, and America's, from reaching France?

When we landed my first inquiry was for my son John. He was well, and
he was still in England, i