The lampman was, of his service, a trained observer. He said nothing of the scene on the deck of the lightship--the watch tumbling up from below, their clothing hastily thrown on--the questioning, the alarmed cries. His concern was directed to the happenings on spit of the Sands. "Some shots landed hereabouts," he said; but his interest was on the Goodwins. [Illustration: MINESWEEPERS GOING OUT] VII 'THE PRICE O' FISH' THE inshore patrol hailed us and reported the channel clear as far as the Nore, and we stood on at full speed, making the most of the short winter daylight. Past the Elbow buoy, we met the minesweepers returning from a sweep of their section. They were steaming in two columns, line ahead, and we sheered a little to give them room; within the reading of our Admiralty instructions, they were a 'squadron in formation,' to whose movements we were advised to give way. They passed close. The leader of the port column was _Present Help_; we read the name on a gilt scroll that ornamented her wheelhouse. For the rest, she was trim in a coat of iron-grey, with her port and number painted over. A small gun--a six-pounder, perhaps--was mounted on her bows, and she carried a weather-stained White Ensign aloft. She scurried past us, pitching to our bow wash in an easy sidling motion that set her wheelhouse glasses flashing a cheery message. The skipper leaned from an open doorway, in an attitude of ease that, somehow, assured us of his day's work being well done--with no untoward happenings. He waved his cap to our greeting. _Present Help_ and her sisters went by, and we returned to our course in the fairway. "These lads," said the pilot, waving his arm towards the fast-receding flotilla. "If it wasn't for these lads, Capt'n, you and I wouldn't feel exactly comfortable on the bridge in channel waters. Two went up this week, and one a little while agone." He turned his palms upward and raised both arms in an expressive gesture. . . . "Three gone, one with all hands, but only one merchant ship done in by mines hereabouts in the last month. (_Starboard, a little, quartermaster!_) . . . I dunno how we could carry on without them. Out there in all weathers, clearing the fairways and--Gad!--it takes some doing. . . . I was talking to one of the skippers in Ramsgate the other day. Saying what I'm saying--(_Steady, now, steady's you go!_)--what I'm saying now, and all he said was--'Right, pilot,' he says. 'If you feels that way, remember it when we gets back to th' fishin' in peace-time, an'--for th' Lord's sake--keep clear o' our gear when th' nets is down! I lost a tidy lot o' gear,' he says, 'with tramps an' that bargin' about on th' fishin' grounds.'. . . He didn't think nothing of this minesweeping. His mind was bent on his nets and the fish again." A pause, while he conned the ship on a steady course, then, reflectively, "An' there's some folks--there's folks ashore growling about the price o' fish!"