g outside of that sandbank, and that is the torpedo
which is lying on the beach. The one aimed at us came straight, one
could see the whorls of the water coming straight at us, but it just
tipped the sandbank and dived underneath our keel. It stuck in the mud
then, and the water boiled over it for a long while."

The mate cut one of the anchors because they were afraid of fouling the
sunken torpedo, and we steamed slowly out from the shelter of the
sandbank.

No escort was visible, and soon the sailors began to look anxious. They
scanned the horizon anxiously. At last one cried, "There she is." Far
away against the western dawn could be seen a thin needle mark of smoke.
In half an hour we were quite close, an Italian destroyer was convoying
a small steamer. The destroyer swung round under our stern, while the
steamer, its funnels set back, raced for San Giovanni looking like a
frightened puppy tearing towards home. The grey warship surged past us,
and out towards the horizon once more, our captain shouting to them that
he could get to Brindisi by midnight. Far away on the sky-line could be
seen the three funnels of a cruiser.

We breakfasted on tinned mackerel, an unlucky dish. The _Harmonie_,
empty of cargo, was like an eggshell in the water. She bounced and
rolled and bounded from wave to wave, half of the time her screw out of
the water. The breakfast did not nourish many. Far on the horizon could
be seen the destroyer and the cruiser sweeping in gigantic circles.

Half a kilometre away a periscope suddenly appeared, then the submarine
dived, rose once more, showing the rounded conning tower, dived, rose
again, like a porpoise at play.

"See," cried the sailors, "how well are we guarded. Outermost the
cruiser, then the destroyer, and innermost the submarine." The cruiser
and destroyer took big sweeps once more and steamed off behind us
towards Cattaro.

Our boat rolled its way from dawn to dusk. We sought refuge in the coal
hole, some lay down in the little officers' cabin. After dark the sea
grew more rough, and splashing over the deck drove even the most ill to
find shelter. Whatmough staggered to the companion, tripped over
something, and fell the length of the stair accompanied by a hard object
which hit him and made hissing sounds like a bicycle pump. He was too
seasick to investigate, but next morning found the ship's tortoise lying
on its back and feebly waving its feet and head.

Then the engines slow