in formation,' to
whose movements we were advised to give way. They passed close. The
leader of the port column was _Present Help_; we read the name on a gilt
scroll that ornamented her wheelhouse. For the rest, she was trim in a
coat of iron-grey, with her port and number painted over. A small gun--a
six-pounder, perhaps--was mounted on her bows, and she carried a
weather-stained White Ensign aloft. She scurried past us, pitching to
our bow wash in an easy sidling motion that set her wheelhouse glasses
flashing a cheery message. The skipper leaned from an open doorway, in
an attitude of ease that, somehow, assured us of his day's work being
well done--with no untoward happenings. He waved his cap to our
greeting. _Present Help_ and her sisters went by, and we returned to our
course in the fairway.

"These lads," said the pilot, waving his arm towards the fast-receding
flotilla. "If it wasn't for these lads, Capt'n, you and I wouldn't feel
exactly comfortable on the bridge in channel waters. Two went up this
week, and one a little while agone." He turned his palms upward and
raised both arms in an expressive gesture. . . . "Three gone, one with
all hands, but only one merchant ship done in by mines hereabouts in the
last month. (_Starboard, a little, quartermaster!_) . . . I dunno how we
could carry on without them. Out there in all weathers, clearing the
fairways and--Gad!--it takes some doing. . . . I was talking to one of
the skippers in Ramsgate the other day. Saying what I'm
saying--(_Steady, now, steady's you go!_)--what I'm saying now, and all
he said was--'Right, pilot,' he says. 'If you feels that way, remember
it when we gets back to th' fishin' in peace-time, an'--for th' Lord's
sake--keep clear o' our gear when th' nets is down! I lost a tidy lot o'
gear,' he says, 'with tramps an' that bargin' about on th' fishin'
grounds.'. . . He didn't think nothing of this minesweeping. His mind
was bent on his nets and the fish again." A pause, while he conned the
ship on a steady course, then, reflectively, "An' there's some
folks--there's folks ashore growling about the price o' fish!"

Of courage in the war, on land as on sea, there are few records
comparable to the silent devotion of the fishermen. The heat of attack
and fury of battle may call out a reckless heroism that has no bounds to
individual gallantry, but the sustained courage required for a lone
action under heavy odds--every turn of the engagement being