E14 kept to her job, on the edge of the procession of traffic.  Patrol vessels annoyed her to such an extent that “as I had not seen any transports lately I decided to sink a patrol-ship as they were always firing on me.”  So she torpedoed a thing that looked like a mine-layer, and must have been something of that kidney, for it sank in less than a minute.  A tramp-steamer lumbering across the dead flat sea was thoughtfully headed back to Constantinople by firing rifles ahead of her.  “Under fire the whole day,” E14 observes philosophically.  The nature of her work made this inevitable.  She was all among the patrols, which kept her down a good deal and made her draw on her batteries, and when she rose to charge, watchers ashore burned oil-flares on the beach or made smokes among the hills according to the light.  In either case there would be a general rush of patrolling craft of all kinds, from steam launches to gunboats.  Nobody loves the Trade, though E14 did several things which made her popular.  She let off a string of very surprised dhows (they were empty) in charge of a tug which promptly fled back to Constantinople; stopped a couple of steamers full of refugees, also bound for Constantinople, who were “very pleased at being allowed to proceed” instead of being lusitaniaed as they had expected.  Another refugee-boat, fleeing from goodness knows what horror, she chased into Rodosto Harbour, where, though she could not see any troops, “they opened a heavy rifle fire on us, hitting the boat several times.  So I went away and chased two more small tramps who returned towards Constantinople.”

Transports, of course, were fair game, and in spite of the necessity she was under of not risking her remaining eye, E14 got a big one in a night of wind and made another hurriedly beach itself, which then opened fire on her, assisted by the local population.  “Returned fire and proceeded,” says E14.  The diversion of returning fire is one much appreciated by the lower-deck as furnishing a pleasant break in what otherwise might be a monotonous and odoriferous task.  There is no drill laid down for this evolution, but etiquette and custom prescribe that on going up the hatch you shall not too energetically prod the next man ahead with the muzzle of your rifle.  Likewise, when descending in quick time before the hatch closes, you are requested not to jump directly on the head of the next below.  Otherwise you act “as requisite” on your own initiative.

When she had used up all her torpedoes E14 prepared to go home by the way she had come—­there was no other—­and was chased towards Gallipoli by a mixed pack composed of a gunboat, a torpedo-boat, and a tug.  “They shepherded me to Gallipoli, one each side of me and one astern, evidently expecting me to be caught by the nets there.”  She walked very delicately for the next eight hours or so, all down the Straits, underrunning the strong tides, ducking down when the fire from the forts got