"And what about the third man?" There was one aboard at the time.

"He generally comes from a smaller boat, to pick up real work--if he
can suppress his intellect and doesn't talk 'last commission.'"

The third hand promptly denied the possession of any intellect, and
was quite dumb about his last boat.

"And the men?"

"They train on, too. They train each other. Yes, one gets to know 'em
about as well as they get to know us. Up topside, a man can take you
in--take himself in--for months; for half a commission, p'rhaps. Down
below he can't. It's all in cold blood--not like at the front, where
they have something exciting all the time."

"Then bumping mines isn't exciting?"

"Not one little bit. You can't bump back at 'em. Even with a Zepp----"

"Oh, now and then," one interrupted, and they laughed as they
explained.

"Yes, that was rather funny. One of our boats came up slap underneath
a low Zepp. 'Looked for the sky, you know, and couldn't see anything
except this fat, shining belly almost on top of 'em. Luckily, it
wasn't the Zepp's stingin' end. So our boat went to windward and kept
just awash. There was a bit of a sea, and the Zepp had to work against
the wind. (They don't like that.) Our boat sent a man to the gun. He