outside the harbour. Her captain reported clear weather all the way up, but as the fog was coming on again, he advised me to turn back. I didn't relish the idea of going on in the fog and darkness, but my relief had arrived, and I was well on my way, so I carried on. Looking back on it afterwards, I saw what a fool I had been. If I hadn't been advised to go back, I should have been sensible and returned to Blyth.

At 4.15 it began to snow heavily, and the fog was thicker than ever. About then, after a few preliminary back-pops, the ignition failed, and I had to join up four cells of my main battery. This took some time, and when it was finished and the engine was going well, I continued on my south easterly course so as to keep clear of land and shipping. When I had run my distance on this course, by time, I altered to west so as to make the entrance to the Tyne.

I was much to blame for three things. I should not have left Blyth at all. After a south-easterly wind there is always a current of unknown strength making up the coast, but I had not allowed for it. Finally, I had considerably overestimated my speed, which we had no means of gauging in that class of boat. A big ship shaved past our bows and disappeared in a moment. I rang down "slow," and sent for the wireless operator to make a signal to the parent

ship, "Am remaining at sea for the night owing to weather.” Heavy billows of freezing fog and snow, exaggerated by the feeble glow of our navigation lights, drifted slowly past us, as we peered out ahead listening intently for the breakwater sound signal.

I was about to stop and take a sounding, when we struck heavily and heeled right over to port. Simultaneously I saw breakers on my starboard bow, so I put the helm hard a-starboard and went ahead and astern, trying to clear. There was no result except the most appalling crashes down below, the boat feeling as though she would turn right over. I flooded forward and blew out water aft and then reversed the process; then I tried every combination of tanks, all to no purpose. I then flooded down to keep her steady, and went below to have a look round. The battery was not bad, though very much run down, and a good deal of acid was spilt, due to the rolling. By putting pressure on all the ballast tanks in turn, I found that three of them had been holed. This was not as serious as it might appear, as the inner hull was quite water-tight. Aft, by the engine-room, there was a strong smell of petrol, of which we could not discover the cause. After another signal to the Bonaventure, I gave orders to draw the main fuses and for every one to come up on the bridge, as the fumes were very

When it became obvious that there was no chance of getting off the rocks, I started firing Very lights at intervals, and managed, during a break in the fog, to ask the military by flash-lamp where I was. However, the fog came down again, and I could not read their reply. By this time there was a heavy swell, and we sixteen were all up on the bridge, jammed in tight round the bridge rails. The boat was rolling very quickly, about 30 degrees each way. It was snowing hard, and to make it worse, there were 12 degrees of frost, and the spray froze as it fell. We could hear sounds from the beach, so we knew, if we had to leave the bridge, that we should probably get ashore alive.

Up to this time I thought that we were near the Tyne breakwater, but now I began to suspect that we were several miles farther north. About 9 o'clock a rocket was fired from the shore. The coastguard had seen our Very light, and had fired a shot at it. The line fell alongside our bridge, and a man tried to hook it with his foot, but the boat rolled, and he got a ducking. We fired another light, and the coastguard replied with a second rocket, an excellent shot, which fell right across our bridge. Knowing that we were safe now, as far as life was concerned, I made the line fast, and had one more desperate

After striking, there had been so much going on that I had not had time to realise the personal consequences of the mishap. Now that I had made a final attempt to get clear, with no result save the noise of tearing plates and horrible lurches and vibrations, I realised to the full what a ghastly mess I had made of things. I had only had command for three months, and here I was stuck on a rock for all the world to see, and I had no excuse worth a cent. The boat would probably be a total loss, and I should be court-martialled and turned out of submarines.

While I was thinking about this, I spotted a light, or rather, a lightening in the fog, low down to seaward. The luminous patch disappeared, and then turned up again a little nearer, and I thought it looked like a fisherman's "flare." I sounded a couple of hoots, and then hailed. A voice replied out of the fog, "What craft are ye?" I replied, I replied, "Submarine ashore." There was a pause, then an anxious voice sang out, "One of oors?" We replied in chorus, "British,

I brought up all the confidential books and papers, then flooded some more tanks to keep the boat steady for the night, and lashed the conning tower lid. The lifeboat hailed us to say that if we didn't come now they would not be able to take us off, as the sea was getting up. We sent off some more lights and hooted on the siren, in case a tug had been sent out to look for us, and then I regretfully gave the order to abandon ship, and called out to the lifeboat to close us. There was too much sea for her to come alongside, so she kept poking her bows in, backing and pulling. The oars on the starboard side were painted white, and on the port red, and the cox'n kept singing out, "Pull yer redsback yer whites," then, as a wave took them almost into

Private Carlin jumped first; he fell in a heap in the bottom of the lifeboat. Submarine life wasn't much in his line, and he was very pleased when the opportunity occurred of leaving it. Then we passed a line to the bow-men, and slid down the confidential books; the steel chest went under water, but the contents did not suffer much. After this we disembarked all the crew one by one; they stood outside the bridge rail, and jumped as I gave the order. This took a long time, and when the first lieutenant's turn came the sea was rather steep. He held on a moment after I gave the word, and jumped clear of the lifeboat. He went right under, and came up the other side. He, luckily, had on a " Gieve's " waistcoat. Then I jumped, and slipped on the turtle-back of the lifeboat's bows. I held on by one hand to the stempost, and was hauled in, feet first, by the crew. I had some qualms about deserting my ship; but I could have done no good by myself, and should probably have been frozen by the morning, whereas now I might be of some assistance at the salvage, if there should be anything left to salve, which did not appear probable, as the sea was breaking right over her.

We settled down and doublebanked the oars to keep warm, and set off down the coast to

make the Tyne breakwater.

The cox'n didn't "'old with compasses," which was just as well, as the lubber's point was steady at north-east, regardless of the direction of the boat's head, so he steered by keeping the wind on his left cheek, or the small part of it which was not covered with grey hair. After pulling hard for an hour, we thought we could just hear the faint note of a fog-horn on our starboard bow, so we altered in towards the shore and heard it again; then, after a few minutes, we found ourselves right under the north breakwater, with the glare of the light just visible above our heads. We rounded the end of the arm, and landed at the steps.

We marched along the slippery pier, and reported at the Satellite, guardship of the Tyne, where I rang up the senior naval officer. My report was not greeted with any great effusion, and I was told that I ought to have remained on the bridge myself, in which case I might have died in the night and rid the navy of a damned fool, all of which, however true it might be, did not tend to make me feel at all pleased with myself.

boat, the occasion was tragic. They stood about offering me hot toddies and saying nothing, and we all felt very sheepish. At last there was a telephone call from the Satellite. It was the captain of the Bonaventure speaking, and he wanted to know if we were all safe and sound. Poor man, he had spent a dreadful nine hours from 6 P.M. till 3 A.M. When our wireless message was sent the ship's operator only received half of it, and reported that the strength of signals was very weak. Then he had called me up and received no reply, so he concluded that the boat was lost with all hands. I was able to set his mind at rest about that anyhow, and felt glad that I had pleased somebody on that miserable night.

On receiving my signal, Commander Shad gone ashore, and driven his car up the coast road, which was a fairly hopeless job under the existing weather conditions. He heard a rumour that I was on the Briardean rocks, 80 drove down to the Tyne again, left his car with a soldier sentry, and dashed off full speed in the Daring, Admiralty paddletug, the best boat we had in the Tyne. As he came out he nearly bumped the motor-lifeboat, which was drifting beamon to the swell. He hailed them, and told them to go on and look for "C8." The cox'n, who had small knowledge of the workings of internal combustion engines, bawled back, "I'm tryin' to, but I can no

I

Commander S and I left the ship at 8 A.M. to look for the boat. We landed at Howden and went to his car, and found all the cylinders cracked. The sentry, whom he had left in charge, had turned the wrong tap; instead of draining the radiator he had turned on the petrol, and the frost had done the rest. We then found a soldier batman driving a car, and we commandeered it, as we found that the owner was on leave. Taking two of my crew, we drove over the frozen snow up the coast road, looking for the wreck. When we got to Whitley Bay, there was "C8" about 150 yards out from high-water mark, with a few warlike small boys throw ing stones at her, thinking she was a U-boat !

We tried to persuade the Cullercoats" cobbles" to row us out, but they said the swell was too big, and they wouldn't risk it. Commander S then

went along to the military C.O. to borrow some ropes, and I went to the coastguard station

I swam off to the boat to have a look round, and found that she was just as we had left her the night before, except that there was a slight trace of chlorine gas due to salt water in the battery tank, also some of the loose gear in the boat had broken adrift and smashed up several electrical fittings. When I got back we decided that we would try and haul the boat up on the beach, take out all the heavy gear, patch her bottom, and refloat her at high water.

About 3 o'clock the tide was low enough to enable us to get on board in waders. We opened up all the hatches to clear the fumes, blew out all the water and fuel tanks, and made fast a big hemp hawser to the boat's bow. There was a covetous crowd of motor owners watching 2000 gallons of the best petrol being blown into the sea, but there was no help for it. At about 9.30 that night it was high water, so at 9 o'clock, with the permission of the colonel commanding and the great goodwill of his officers, we had about 100 soldiers down on the sand manning the hawser. Luckily we had a very high tide, and after twenty minutes we felt the boat yield about a foot; the soldiers, who, like sailors, enjoy doing