These two boats were followed, on August 15, by E. 8 and E. 13. The fate of E. 13 will not be forgotten while there is any rightful indignation left in Europe. On August 19, she got ashore on a neutral coast--the Danish island of Saltholm--and there, with her crew upon her, was deliberately shot to pieces by a German war-ship, in defiance of all humanity and international law. Her officers and men behaved with perfect courage, but many of them were killed before they could get away from the wreck of their boat. Lieut.-Commander Goodhart’s account of the voyage of E. 8 is a plain and business-like document, but to read it, with a map beside it, is to look far away into a world of historic names and ever-present dangers. It is easy enough to imagine the passage up the Skager-Rak, always remembering that we must keep well out of the central line of traffic, and that in the afternoon we have to dive and pass under a whole fleet of steam trawlers. At 7 P.M. it is possible to come to the surface again. The Commander orders full speed, rounds the Skaw, and enters the Kattegat. In the fading twilight, several merchant-steamers are seen going north. The shore and island lights twinkle out one by one--Hamnskar, Vinga, Skaw, Trindelen, and Anholt. The night is short. By 3.0 A.M. we must dive again, and lie quietly on shoal ground, while the traffic goes over us. At 5.25 A.M. we venture to the surface, but are put down quickly by a steamer. At 7.0 we venture again, and do a scurry of 1½ hours in a friendly mist. Then down again, and crawl at 3 knots, till at 1.0 P.M. we are off the entrance to the Sound. Here Commander Goodhart has to make the choice between going forward submerged, or waiting for darkness and then attempting the channel on the surface. He is confident of being able to get to his position under water, and decides accordingly to continue diving into the Sound and wait for night inside. He proceeds at fifty feet, and, by 3.6 P.M., has verified his position, coming up to twenty-one feet to do so. He goes down again to fifty feet, and alters course to pass through the northern narrows. At 4.10 P.M. he is east of Helsingör Light--‘By thy wild and stormy steep, Elsinore!’ At 5.20, after another observation, he goes to bottom in eleven fathoms, feeling comfortably certain that he has not been detected--so far--on his passage.