The battleship in which I was serving was picking up survivors from a
torpedoed merchantman in the North Atlantic. They had been drifting
about for hours clinging to upturned boats and bits of gear that had
floated clear of the wreckage.
Our boat had picked up three or four half-drowned men and was just
about to return to the ship when we espied a fat sailor bobbing about
with his arms around a plank. We pulled up close to him and the bow-man
leaned out with a boat-hook and drew him alongside.
[Illustration: "Wot d'yer fink I am--a blinkin' tiddler?"]
He seemed to have just strength enough left to grasp the gunwale,
when we were surprised to hear him shout, in an unmistakable Cockney
voice: "All right, Cockey, un'itch that boat 'ook. Wot d'yer fink I
am--a blinkin' tiddler?"--_Leslie E. Austin, 6 Northumberland Avenue,
Squirrels Heath, Romford, Essex._