h had been
torpedoed by a German U-boat without warning near Malta. They told us,
when they got down into our engine-room, that they were just having one
hell of a time getting home. I don't blame them for thinking that.
Through good fortune, and taking chances of being sent to the bottom
ourselves, we have saved the lives of many of these neutrals who might
have perished. Yes, here we are mine-sweeping as a job, flying the white
ensign of the British Navy; and yet we have found time to save life
imperilled by the enemy. Sometimes I wonder what sly Fritz would have
to say if he'd even saved a single neutral. He'd be blowing yet. Did you
ever stop to think that our Government never has jeopardised a single
neutral life? On the other hand, the lives of neutrals that have been
rescued at this port run into the thousands. They talk about the freedom
of the seas. What else has there been until Germany showed that what she
wants is the 'tyranny of the seas.' Leastways, that's how it strikes me.
Ever stop to----"

His attention was caught by a signal from the other vessel, and a
keen-eyed sailor wig-wagged back an answer. It was all right, although
at first I still remembered the timely warning regarding the slightly
submerged mine. As a matter of fact, it was merely a desire of the
sister ship's captain to turn around and "sweep back," as the
land-lubber might term it.

"Let's see," said the commander, "where was I.... Oh, yes.... Realise
that we go out and save lives that the enemy imperils far out at sea?
They are lives that don't concern us, but we don't feel like letting a
poor chap drown if we can help it. On the other hand, our enemy stops at
nothing, and, moreover, takes advantage of our humanity. I think that it
should be known that we dash out to the rescue never knowing when the
ship may go up against one of Fritz's eggs, which may be anywhere in the
sea. Why do we go? Just to pick up a benighted lot from an ill-fated
tramp, and there's nothing in it. Yet we do it all the time, and the
C.O. commends us for it, too."

We came to a new spot in the green sea to sweep. It was fairly rough,
and the little vessel bumped and jumped. And this is the work that goes
on from daybreak to dusk seven days a week. If a trawler strikes a mine
she usually counts on saying good-bye to herself and 80 per cent. of her
crew, and the other type of mine-sweeper is lucky if she gets off with a
loss of less than 40 per cent.

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