Sir William laughed. "Well," he said, "what about those craft yonder?
There I suppose you have yet another point of view?"
A division of Armed Trawlers lumbered out of their path, the bow gun on each blunt forecastle rising and dipping as they plunged in the incoming swell.
"Ah!" said the Lieutenant-Commander, "they're different. They never had any preconceived notions about us or their own invulnerability. The boot's on the other foot there. We used to jeer at them once; but now I'm not so certain…."
"You never know what the hell they'll do next," explained the Lieutenant with the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheek-bone. "That's the trouble. 'They knows nothin' an' they fears nothin','" he quoted, smiling.
"The personal element comes in more, I suppose, in those craft," said
Sir William musingly. He focused his glasses on a turf cabin ashore.
"The Admiral was telling me that a London brain specialist was born in
one of those crofter's huts."
The Submarine Commander nodded. "It's not unlikely," he said. "These Northern fishermen are a fine breed. But this patrol work has developed a new type of seaman altogether. We've got a fellow up here huntin' Fritzes—he's a merchant seaman with a commission in the Naval Reserve…. There are times when he makes me frightened, that sportsman. It's a blessing the Hun can't reproduce his type: anyhow, I haven't met any over the other side, or up the Baltic."
"Name of Gedge?" enquired Sir William dryly.
"That's the lad," was the reply. "D'you know him, sir?"
"No, but I've heard of him."
"You'll see him presently," said the other. "He's waiting for us outside onboard his trawler. If you go onboard, have a look at the beam of his fore-hatch: rather interestin'."