This is where there came very near being a real fight. It happened this way--Two steamers had passed the Flying Fish on the way in and were tied up at the Cunard dock ahead of us, so we were told to land at the dock below. That was all very well, but the captain informed us that we couldn’t go ashore until he had reported to the “inspector.” I knew that the 100 odd people that we had on the Flying Fish didn’t care about any “inspector” that ever grew in the town of Queenstown, but what they wanted and needed and ought to have was hot drink and food just as soon as they could get it. The captain, with true Irish stubbornness, went to do his duty ashore as “he seen it.” We let the captain get around the corner out of sight and then G---- and I started to put the gangplank over, but were told by some figure standing on the dock that we must wait for the captain’s return. We gave this figure, whom we presume was a guard, three seconds to get out of the way or get knocked down by the gangplank. He moved, and we ran out the gangplank and handed our passengers ashore. Those who were able to navigate by themselves walked up the streets to the various hotels. Then we got down to our two cripples: one was a man in our collapsible lifeboat and one a woman we found on the fishing smack. Each had a broken leg. And right here let me tell you an instance of nerve displayed by this man B----, whose leg was broken. We had taken him into our boat before we got the seats braced up, for he was in pretty bad shape and we were afraid to leave him longer in the water. He was in the bottom of the boat, partially sitting on one of the seats, and when we endeavored to heave up on them, I spoke to him rather roughly and asked him if he couldn’t get off. He looked up to me with half a smile and said, “I would, old chap; but did you know I have a broken leg and can’t move very fast?” I was careful how I spoke after that! I went ashore to see if I could find an ambulance or stretchers. A little way up the street in front of the Cunard office I found about 20 Naval Reserve men drawn up in squares of four; each squad was armed with a folding canvas stretcher. They were as fine a lot of men as I ever saw, and when I told them I had two cripples and needed two stretchers they didn’t wait there for any commands from a _real_ officer; they just asked me where were they, and I marched them down to the boat double quick.