"Sweep completed in the fairway.
"No more mines remain.
"'Sent back Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain."




THE AUXILIARIES

II


The Trawlers seem to look on mines as more or less fairplay. But with
the torpedo it is otherwise. A Yarmouth man lay on his hatch, his gear
neatly stowed away below, and told me that another Yarmouth boat had
"gone up," with all hands except one. "'Twas a submarine. Not a mine,"
said he. "They never gave our boys no chance. Na! She was a Yarmouth
boat--we knew 'em all. They never gave the boys no chance." He was a
submarine hunter, and he illustrated by means of matches placed at
various angles how the blindfold business is conducted. "And then," he
ended, "there's always what _he'll_ do. You've got to think that out
for yourself--while you're working above him--same as if 'twas fish."
I should not care to be hunted for the life in shallow waters by a man
who knows every bank and pothole of them, even if I had not killed his
friends the week before. Being nearly all fishermen they discuss their
work in terms of fish, and put in their leisure fishing overside, when
they sometimes pull up ghastly souvenirs. But they all want guns.
Those who have three-pounders clamour for sixes; sixes for twelves;
and the twelve-pound aristocracy dream of four-inchers on
anti-aircraft mountings for the benefit of roving Zeppelins. They will