cky _John
Hawkins_, which a U-boat had actually put down, and the grim situation
which confronted the sailors when they found themselves sinking in a
ship which carried a number of depth-charges set on the "ready." But all
that, he said, with the air of an old man speaking of his departed
youth, was before they had begun to learn Fritzie's little ways, and
before Fritz, perhaps as a consequence, had begun to lose his nerve.
Now, far from being willing to put up a fight with a destroyer, it was
only "once in a blue moon that he's got the guts to put up a scrap even
to save his own hide."

A slender fair-haired lad, with a quick observant eye which revealed him
as a signalman even before one looked at his sleeve, cut in sharply at
this juncture.

"Then there must have been a blue moon shedding its light over these
waters last month," he said decisively. "I quite agree with you that
Fritz hasn't got the nerve--or it may be because he's got too much
sense--to take a chance at a destroyer any more. But in the matter of
putting up a fight for his life--yes, even for giving a real run for the
money--well, all I can say is that if you'd been out on the _Sherill_
about three weeks ago, you wouldn't be making that complaint about one
particular Fritz at least. If going eighteen hours, with two or three
destroyers and a sloop or two doing everything they know how to crack in
his shell all the time, without chucking his hand in, and very likely
getting clear in the end--if that isn't putting up a fight for life and
giving a run for the money, I don't know what is."

I had heard this astonishing "battle of wakes and wits," as someone had
christened it, referred to on several occasions, but had never had the
chance to hear any of the details from one who had had anything like the
opportunities always open to a signalman to follow what is going on.
"Most of the bunch have heard all they want to hear of it already," the
lad replied with a laugh when I asked him to tell me the story; "and,
besides, a more or less long-winded yarn of the kind I suppose you want
would tire 'em to tears anyway. If you really want to hear something of
it, come over to the _Sherill_ (that's her stern there, just beyond the
_Flossie_) any time after eight bells. I go on watch then, but it's a
'stand easy' in port, and there'll be time for all the yarning you
want."

I closed with that offer at once, and eight bells had not long gone
before I had picked m