In September 1914 I was in H.M.S. _Vanguard_, patrolling in the North
Sea. One day four of us were standing on the top of the foremast
turret, when all of a sudden my pal Nobby shouted to the bridge above
us, "Periscope on the port bow, sir." At once the captain and signalman
levelled their telescopes on the object. Then the captain looked over
the bridge and shouted, "That's a porpoise, my man."
Nobby looked up at the bridge and said, "Blimey, that's the first time
I've seen a porpoise wiv a glass eye."
He had no sooner said it than the ship slewed to port and a torpedo
passed close to our stern, the signalman having spotted the wake of a
torpedo.--_M. Froggat, 136 Laleham Road, Catford, S.E._
"Hoctopus" with One Arm
At the time when the German submarine blockade was taking heavy toll
of all general shipping I was serving aboard a destroyer doing escort
work in the Channel. One night three ships had been torpedoed in quick
succession, and we understood they were carrying wounded.
We were kept pretty busy dodging from one place to another to pick up
survivors, and during our "travels" a ship's boat was sighted close at
hand. In the darkness we could just make out the figure of a soldier
endeavouring to pull a full-sized oar.
After hailing the boat someone on our destroyer shouted, "Why didn't
you get some more oars out?" A voice replied: "Don't be so funny. D'yer
fink I'm a hoctopus? Our engines 'ave all conked aht." Which remark
raised a laugh from the entire boatload.
On getting closer alongside the tragedy dawned on us. This Cockney
was the only man (out of about thirty) who was sound enough to handle
an oar, and he only had one arm and a half.--_H. G. Vollor (late
Ldg.-seaman, R.N.), 73 Playford-Road, Finsbury Park, N.4._