g-tower. Lieutenant Crutchley, searching the ship
before he left her, failed to find his body, or that of Sub-Lieutenant
MacLachlan, in that wilderness of splintered wood and shattered steel.
In the previous attempt to block the port, Commander Godsal had
commanded _Brilliant_, and, together with all the officers of that ship
and of _Sirius_, had volunteered at once for a further operation.

Most of the casualties were incurred while the ship was being abandoned.
The men behaved with just that cheery discipline and courage which
distinguished them in the Zeebrugge raid.

[Sidenote: Recall rockets are fired from the flagship.]

Always according to programme, the recall rockets for the small craft
were fired from the flagship at 2.30 a.m. The great red rockets whizzed
up to lose themselves in the fog; they cannot have been visible half a
mile away; but the work was done, and one by one the launches and
motor-boats commenced to appear from the fog, stopped their engines
alongside the destroyers and exchanged news with them. There were
wounded men to be transferred and dead men to be reported--their names
called briefly across the water from the little swaying deck to the
crowded rail above. But no one had seen a single enemy craft; the nine
German destroyers who were out and free to fight had chosen the
discreeter part.

[Sidenote: Ostend Harbor is thus made impracticable.]

It is not claimed by the officers who carried out the operation that
Ostend Harbor is completely blocked; but its purpose--to embarrass the
enemy and make the harbor impracticable to any but small craft and
dredging operations difficult--has been fully accomplished.

* * * * *

Too little was heard during the war of the work of the American
submarines, but they performed most efficient and useful service. A
sketch of the life aboard one of these little vessels follows.

WITH THE AMERICAN SUBMARINES

HENRY B. BESTON

[Sidenote: A view of the Embankment.]

A London day of soft and smoky skies, darkened every now and then by
capricious and intrusive little showers, was drawing to a close in a
twilight of gold and gray. Our table stood in a bay of plate-glass
windows overlooking the Embankment close by Cleopatra's Needle. We
watched the little double-decked tram-cars gliding by, the opposing,
interthreading streams of pedestrians, and a fleet of coal barges coming
up the river, solemn as a cloud.

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