eps, depth-keepers,
explosive nets, hydrophones, and paravanes--but he regards them all as
adaptations to his fishing service. He is unchanged. He is still
fishing; that his 'catch' may be a huge explosive monster capable of
destroying a Dreadnought does not seem to have imposed a new turn to his
thoughts. He is apart from the regular naval service. The influence of
his familiar little ship, the association of his kindred shipmates, the
technics of a common and unforgettable trade, have proved stronger than
the prestige of a naval uniform. In his terms and way of speech, he
draws no new farrago from his brassbound shipmate. Did not the skipper
of the duty patrol hail _Aquitania_ on her approach to the Clyde booms
and advise the captain? . . . 'Tak' yeer _bit boatie_ up atween thae twa
trawlers!'

The devotion and gallantry and humanity of the fishermen is not confined
to the enlisted section who man the patrol craft and minesweepers. The
regular trade, the old trade, works under the same difficulties and
dangers that ever menaced the ingathering of the sea-fishery. Serving on
the sea in certain areas, the older men and the very young still
contrive to shoot the nets and down the trawls. Their contribution to
the diminished food-supply of the country is not gained without loss;
'the price o' fish' is too often death or mutilation or suffering under
bitter exposure in an open boat. The efforts of the enemy to stop our
food-supply are directed with savage insistence towards reducing the
rations drawn from the deeps of the sea; brutality and vengeful fury
increase in intensity as the days pass and the indomitable fishermen
return and return to their grounds. In August 1914, fast German cruisers
and torpedo-boats raided our fleets on the Dogger Bank. Twenty fishing
vessels were sunk, their crews captured. There was no killing. ". . .
The sailors [of the torpedo-boat] gave us something to eat and drink,
and we could talk and were pretty free," said the skipper of _Lobelia_.
Later, on being taken ashore ". . . with German soldiers on each side of
us, and the women and boys and girls shouting at us and running after us
and pelting us, we were marched through the streets of Wilhelmshaven to
a prison." Hardship, abuse! Now ridicule! ". . . The Germans stripped
us of everything we had. . . . But they were not content with that--they
disfigured us by cutting one half of the hair of our heads off and one
half of the moustache, cropp