As for the hospital ships, there were numbers of them coming and going; but, empty or full, it is inconceivable that the British Navy should make war upon hospital ships. Victory it will desire, but not by villainy; defeat it will avoid strenuously, but not by the destruction of the first law of human life. The result is none the less certain: in the history of submarine war, as in that of all naval war, it will inevitably be seen that piracy and murder are not the methods of the strong. CHAPTER III THE SUBMARINE OF TO-DAY The feelings of the average landsman, when he sets foot for the first time in a submarine, are a strong mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The curiosity is uppermost--the experience before you is much more novel than, for example, that of a first trip in an aeroplane. From a mountain or tower, a great wheel or a balloon, you have seen the bird’s-eye view of the earth and felt the sensation of hanging over the aerial abyss. But even the fascinating pages of Jules Verne have not told you all that you will feel in a submarine, and nothing but physical experience can do so. You are eager to see the working of new mechanical devices in a wholly strange element, and to learn the use of a new weapon in a wholly strange kind of war. But with this eagerness, there is an underlying sense of uneasiness, a feeling that you are putting yourself into a position where you are as helpless as a mouse in a patent trap. The cause of this is not fear of war risks, for it is equally strong in harbour, or in time of peace. It is probably connected with the common dread of suffocation, which may be an instinct inherited from ages of primitive life in the open. They will tell you, in the submarine service, that it is a mere habit of mind and very soon forgotten. There is even a story of an officer who, on coming ashore from a year’s work in an E-boat, refused to travel in the Tube railway, because it looked so dangerous. He preferred the risks he was used to, and so do most of us.