In the bows of the whaler referred to above the able seaman with the boathook sat regarding the captive of his bow and spear (or rather, boathook). “’Ere, Tirpitz!” he said, and removing his cap he produced the stump of a partly smoked cigarette. The captive took it with a watery smile and pawed his rescuer’s trousers.
’
“Kamarad!” he said.
“Not ’arf!” said his captor appreciatively. “Not ’arf you ain’t, you—— —— son of a—— ——!”
The second bow, labouring at his oar, looked back over his shoulder.
“’Ush!” he said reprovingly. “’E can’t understand. Wot’s the use o’ wastin’ that on ’im?” He spat contemptuously over the gunwale.
’
’
. . . . .
The following thoughtful description of the action appeared in the German wireless communiqué next morning:{62}
{62}
“Our light forces in an enterprise off the English coast put to flight a vastly superior strength of armed merchant cruisers escorted by destroyers. English fleet on coming to the rescue was compelled to withdraw, and our forces returned to harbour without further molestation.”
Every man to his own trade.
III. The Left Flank
The Left Flank
The north-east wind carried the steady grumble of gunfire across the sand-dunes and far out to sea.
The foremost gun’s crew of a British destroyer stood huddled in the lee of the gun-shield with their duffle hoods pulled down over their foreheads. The sea was calm, and the stars overhead shone with frosty brilliance. A figure groped its way forward with a bowl of cocoa, and joined the group round the breech of the gun. They drank in turn, grunting as the warmth penetrated into their interiors.
The distant gunfire swelled momentarily. Above the horizon far ahead intermittent gleams marked the
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