ly and prayed, while men who
had suffered similarly before gazed fixedly at the distant object,
knowing how fickle is Fortune to sailormen in distress. But the hull
grew larger and hope shone on the faces of all. Men pulled frantically
at the oars, while others waved pieces of sail or clothing to attract
attention.

Now came a surprise. From the pocket of his duffel coat the first
officer produced what he had hitherto kept hidden for just such an
emergency--a Very's pistol, with its small-sized single red rocket. A
hoarse cry of joy went up from all in spite of their exhaustion when
they saw the rocket soar into the air and burst into a blood-red glow.

A short time later keen eyes made out the string of flags which
fluttered from the halyards of the oncoming warship, and although
minutes seemed like hours, none could quite remember what happened
after. Some say that the cruiser came alongside them and others that she
lowered her boats and steamed round in a circle. But forty-eight
survivors were landed in Liverpool three days later, leaving in the
wastes of the Western Ocean a murdered two hundred.

* * * * *

It is interesting to note that survivors from torpedoed ships frequently
showed great reluctance to leave their life-boats and go aboard the
rescuing vessel, especially when they were within easy sailing distance
of a harbour. After being torpedoed, rescued and torpedoed again they
often preferred the comparative safety but hardship of the small open
boat to the risk and luxury of the big ship. This applied more
especially to Scandinavian sailors, whose powers in small boats are well
known.

It should, however, be stated that, so far as British and American
seamen were concerned, men sailed again and again, after being torpedoed
or mined six, seven and even eight times. It was this remarkable
fortitude of the Mercantile Marine which saved Europe from starvation.

CHAPTER XXII

IN THE SHADOW OF A BIG SEA FIGHT

ON the evening of 30th May 1916 six of his Majesty's drifters were lying
alongside the quay of a Scottish naval base having their few hours'
"stand-off" after weary days patrolling lines of submerged nets. Their
officers and crews, with the exception of one sad-faced company on guard
duty, were enjoying either the comparative luxury of a corrugated-iron
wardroom, situated on a windy stone pier, or a few the more complete
relaxation of a brief visit to a theat