e had
our smoke-producing apparatus to set up a screen to his shell-fire, and
that form of defence had the added value of forcing him to proceed at a
high and uneconomical speed to press an attack. Some of our gun actions
resulted in destruction of a sea-pest, but all--however
unsuccessful--contributed to lessen his power of offence. Every torpedo
fired, every hour of submergence, every knot of speed expended in a
chase, was so far a victory for us as to hasten the date when he would
be obliged to head back to his base. His chances of survival in that
passage through the patrols and the nets and mines could not be
considered as good.

[Illustration: QUEEN'S DOCK, GLASGOW]

X

BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK

"_All vessels are prohibited from approaching within four miles
of Rathlin Island between sunset and sunrise_"

IN view of Admiralty instructions, we are 'proceeding as
requisite'--turning circles, dodging between Tor Point and Garron
Head--and awaiting daybreak to make a passage through Rathlin Sound.
Steering south from the Clyde, we had reached Skullmartin when the
wireless halted us. Enemy activity off the south coast of Ireland had
become intensified, and all traffic from west-coast ports was ordered to
proceed through the North Channel. In groups and singles, the ships from
Liverpool and the Bristol Channel join us, and we make a busy
channel-way of the usually deserted coastal waters. We show no lights,
but the moon-ray reveals us, sharply defined, as we pass and repass on
the lines of our courses. We keep well within the curve of the coast
until the light grows in the east, then turn finally to the north. The
sun comes up as we reach Fair Head, and we stand on towards the entrance
of the Sound.

In the first hour of official clearance, the North Channel is busy with
the traffic. Outside as well as within, ships have been gathering in
anticipation of Admiralty sunrise. The seaway over by the mainland shore
is scored and lined by passage of the inward-bound vessels, all pressing
on at their best speed to make their ports before nightfall. A strong
ebb tide runs through, favouring our company of outward-bounders. We
swing past Rue Point in a rip and whirl that gives the helmsman cause
for concern, cross the bight of the Bay at a speed our builders never
contemplated, and round the west end of the Island before the sun has
risen high.

It is fine weather in the Atlantic. Only the slight