Saturday 68th day (9 June 1917)

Our Ships were heading almost South, but they soon resumed Eastern course, presume it was only a manoeuvre.  The torpedo boats prowling about on either side bring it home to one there is a War going on hereabouts.  The boats are steering an uneven course in a long line with the swift businesslike mosquitos guarding their flanks and every now and then making a dash at possible dangers; like sheep dogs.  One can hardly, in spite of them, realise the presence of danger.  I think this must be why so many merchant Captains have run inexcusable risks: “out of sight out of mind”.  The sea is beginning to take on that greenish look that I have noticed whenever we near land.

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