J. J. Bell

“ A couple of concerned-looking seamen appeared on the scene, but were dismissed by a gesture from the skipper.
Again and again the wheel-house was flooded, the men were drenched. The cold was intense. The skipper no longer steamed in his soaking garments. Later the sleet turned to snow—crisp, thick, blinding, stabbing snow. In the feeble light from the binnacle the two men soon appeared like white statues. During the next three hours the skipper frequently looked at his watch, but never a word did he utter. Now and then, however, he grinned. The snow might help him after all. ”

“ Johnny, the mate, appeared to be intent on the white-rifted blackness ahead. He knew that his skipper, having altered the course a trifle, was for slipping nearer the unlighted coast, in order to save a knot or two on the remainder of the trip, and he wondered just how near that coast and the minefields the Sapphire might be at the moment. They say the trawlmen can smell their way in the dark, yet for all that they miss the friendly lights that war has extinguished. ”

“ At last, like a man who has come to a final decision, he spun the wheel rapidly. The Sapphire fell away until she was broadside to the gale and rolling as if in agony; further round she went until the sea was on her quarter; then straight ahead she flew, wallowing.
•••••
“Lights!” cried the mate, pointing.
The skipper looked, discovered the faint sparks, which must have been near to be visible in that blizzard. He nodded calmly.
“Patrol, sure,” said Johnny. “If they signal——”
“Pretend ye're blind and deaf.” Tom bent over the speaking-tube. “Give her all ye can, Bob.” ”