I was one of the crew of a patrol boat at the Nore in the winter of
1915. Most of the crew had gone to the dockyard to draw stores and
provisions, and I was down in the forecastle when I heard a shout
for help. I nipped up on deck and discovered that our Cockney stoker
had fallen overboard. He was trying to swim for dear life, though
handicapped by a pair of sea boots and canvas overalls over his
ordinary sailor's rig. A strong tide was running and was carrying him
away from the boat.
I threw a coil of rope to him, and after a struggle I managed to haul
him aboard. I took him down to the boiler room and stripped off his
clothes.
Around his neck was tied a bootlace, on the end of which was hanging
a metal watch, which he told me he had bought the day before for five
shillings. The watch was full of sea water, and there was an air bubble
inside the glass. As he held it in his hand he looked at it with
disgust. When I said to him what a wonderful escape his wife had had
from being left a widow, he replied, "Yes, it was a near fing, ole'
mate, but wot abaht me blinkin' bran' noo watch? It's gone and turned
itself into a perishin' spirit level, and I've dipped five bob."--_W.
Carter, 55 Minet Avenue, Harlesden, N.W.10._
[Illustration: "A perishin' spirit level."]