It was an animated scene aboard the _Corsair_ when the thirty-one men and officers of the _Eugene Louise_ were disputing whether or not they should go back to their ship and sail her into port. There were also two dogs, one of them shaggy and black, who barked in energetic approval of remaining on the _Corsair_. Their Breton shipmates appeared to share this opinion. Panic had gripped most of them. They were literally frightened out of their wits. Red kerchiefs knotted about their heads, gold rings twinkling in their ears, they looked like shipwrecked buccaneers, but their spirit was quite otherwise. The captain of the _Eugene Louise_ was a man of stout heart and, besides, he owned a share of the barkentine. He raced between bridge and deck, conferring, imploring, expostulating, but his fishermen refused to follow him. They were fed up with submarine warfare and, in their opinion, once was enough. The next U-boat would undoubtedly cut their throats and it was a long road to Saint-Malo. Their refusal brought genuine grief to the navigating officer of the _Corsair_. Nothing would have pleased Lieutenant Robert E. Tod more than to sail the barkentine _Eugene Louise_ into the nearest French port, and he had already volunteered for the job. He was a faithful and zealous officer of the _Corsair_, but, after all, she was a steam kettle and his heart went out to the spars and stays and canvas of a sailing vessel and the winds that served to steer her by. Such had been his own training as a yachtsman, and he knew he could shove this French square-rigger along for all she was worth, with thirty nimble Breton sailors to swarm aloft. Alas, Captain Pierre Catharine, of the _Eugene Louise_, could not argue his frightened crew into accepting this sporting proposition. It was left for the industrious British destroyers to take her to safety at the end of a tow-line. The news was gratifying, when received later, that the barkentine with her cargo of fish, so welcome to the Breton villages, had been rescued from the brutal destruction of the enemy. One of the _Corsair’s_ deck force sadly noted in his journal: I also volunteered to go with Commodore Tod as quartermaster for signals, but our skipper decided to leave her derelict. It was a great disappointment. Mr. Tod thanked me for offering to take a chance on the barkentine, which I appreciated.