On the trip over, we were steaming behind the R——­, when all at once she steered out and backed, amid much running around on board.  At first we thought she saw a submarine and stood by our guns.  Then we saw she had a man overboard.  We immediately dropped our lifeboat, and I went in charge for the fun of it.  Beat the R——­’s boat to him.  He had no life-preserver, but the wool-lined jacket he wore kept him high out of water, and he was floating around as comfortably as you please, barring the fact that his fall had knocked him unconscious.  So we not only took him back to his ship, but picked up the R——­’s boat-hook, which the clumsy lubbers had dropped—­and kept it as a reward for our trouble.

[Sidenote:  Very little known about the U-boat situation.]

We are being somewhat overhauled, refitted, etc., in the British dock-yard here.  Navy yards are much the same the world over, I guess.  I will say, however, that they have dealt with us quickly and efficiently, with the minimum of red tape and correspondence.  We have become in fact an integral part of the British Navy.  Admiral Sims is in general supervision of us, but we are directly in command of the British Admiral commanding the station.  Of the U-boat situation, I may say little.  There is nothing about which so much is imagined, rumored and reported, and so little known for certain.  Five times, when coming through the danger zone, we manned all guns, thinking we saw something.  Once in my watch I put the helm hard over to dodge a torpedo—­which proved to be a porpoise!  And I’ll do the same thing again, too.  We are in this war up to the neck, there is no doubt about that—­and thank Heaven for it!

Kiss our son for me and make up your mind that you would rather have his father over here on the job than sitting in a swivel-chair at home doing nothing.

MAY 26.

I never seem to get time to write a real letter.  All hands, including your husband, are so dead tired when off watch that there is nothing to do but flop down on your bunk—­or on the deck sometimes—­and sleep.  The captain and I take watch on the bridge day and night, and outside of this I do my own navigating and other duties, so time does not go a-begging with me.  However, we are still unsunk, for which we should be properly grateful.

[Sidenote:  War has become matter-of-fact.]

I have seen a little of Ireland and like New York State better than ever.  It is difficult to realize how matter-of-fact the war has become with every one over here.  You meet some mild mannered gentleman and talk about the weather, and then find later that he is a survivor from some desperate episode that makes your blood tingle.  I would that we were over on the North Sea side, where Providence might lay us alongside a German destroyer some gray dawn.  This submarine-chasing business is much like the proverbial skinning of a skunk—­useful, but not especially pleasant or glorious.