ne has not been
found feasible, wires breaking all the time; so their wives have learned
to wig-wag to them.

"One night they got a scare on shore; thought that the men on the
Longships were sending up distress signals. It was bad weather, and
every now and again the coast-watcher saw a green light on the
Longships. And what do you think that green light was? Just the water
running over the bright light when it flashed! As it washed the glasses
it showed up green."

There were curtains of sailcloth put over the windows to obscure the
sunlight. I asked the P.K. about this, and he told me that the great
magnifying lens of the light would burn things if the sun got on it for
long enough. So, much as they like the sun in Cornwall, they have to
keep it out.

"I shall be on duty to-night from twelve until four o'clock," observed
the P.K. "But I've got accustomed to the running of the machinery."

So down we went. The last I saw of the P.K. was when the old Cornishman,
emptying cans of oil into the tank to supply the light which warns
mariners, shouted:--

"Getting pretty fresh now. Hope to see you again."

XII. WATCHERS OF THE COAST

Circling Great Britain are thousands of expert coast-watchers, whose
duty not only is to watch for ships, wrecks, and smugglers, as in the
days before the war, but also to be on guard for enemy submarines and
suspicious craft. It is the oft-spoken opinion of many an inland
inhabitant that certain sections of the coast would afford a base for
U-boats. However, these persons have no conception of the thoroughness
with which John Bull guards his coast-lines. Mile after mile, shores and
rocks are under the eye of alert navy men and volunteers, the latter
being civilians who have spent their lives by the sea. They know their
business, and even though they are volunteers, the discipline is rigid.
But they are not the type of men to shirk their duty, for they would
take it as missing a God-given opportunity if their eyes were closed at
the time they could help their country most. After travelling around
part of the coast-line, a stranger leaves with the opinion that there is
little chance for a man even to swim ashore under cover of night.

From John o' Groat's to Land's End and all around Ireland, these
coast-watchers--men over military age, wiry and strong, with eyes like
ferrets--scan the rocks and beaches hour after hour, noting passing
vessels, receiving and detailing information,