In 1915, Gordon Campbell was just one of the many Lieutenant-Commanders who had never had an opportunity for distinguished service. His hopes rose when he was appointed to command the _Farnborough_, a Special Service ship, formerly a collier, with crew mainly drawn from the mercantile marine and R.N.R. Into these men he infused his own ideas of discipline and training, as well as his own cool and selfless courage. During the whole winter the _Farnborough_ faced the gales without a single fight to cheer her; but never for a moment did her commander waver in his faith that her chance would come, and never did his men cease to give him their whole trust and devotion. In the end, he was able to say of them that they understood every move in the game as well as he himself did, and played it with the same keenness. Even if he had met with no other success, this alone was an achievement, and a proof of invaluable power. But other successes were to be added--the power was to be felt beyond his own ship, as an example and an inspiration. The _Farnborough’s_ first chance came in the spring of 1916, when she was tramping quietly along at eight knots. Her look-out sighted the enemy at last--a submarine awash, and about five miles distant on the port bow. It remained in view only for a few minutes and then dived, no doubt for the attack. It was the _Farnborough’s_ part to be blind, stupid, and generally mercantile. She maintained her course and speed as if she had observed nothing. Twenty minutes later a torpedo was seen coming up on the starboard quarter. The bubbles rose right under the forecastle, the torpedo having evidently passed just ahead of the ship. The _Farnborough_ maintained her course, as blind and trampish as before. A few minutes more, and the U-boat, convinced that she had a fool to deal with, broke surface only a thousand yards astern of the ship, passing across her wake from starboard to port. But she was not exactly in a mood of reckless courage--she fired a shot from her gun across _Farnborough’s_ bows, and at the same time partially submerged. Now came the moment for which Lieutenant-Commander Campbell had trained his men. He stopped, blew off steam ostentatiously, and ordered a ‘panic abandon ship’ by his stokers and spare men, under Engineer Sub-Lieutenant John Smith, R.N.R. The U-boat was encouraged by this, closed to 800 yards, and a few seconds later reopened fire with a shell which fell about fifty yards short. Then, in the traditional style of the old Navy, the captain gave the order to hoist the white ensign and open fire.