We were heartily welcomed by the bluff sailormen aboard.
Curiously enough, I did not feel thirst so badly as hunger. I am not of a thirsty nature at any time, and perhaps that accounted for it.
The first mouthful of food was torture; it seemed to rasp the skin off my throat. After that I ate ravenously. It was the first touch of real hunger I had known, and after the experience, I vowed that if it lay in my power I would never again see a poor beggar go hungry.
When our bodily wants had been attended to we settled down to a comfortable smoke in the ward-room. The skipper, a Lieutenant R.N.R., told us he had just made up his mind he was not going to venture another fathom farther when he heard our shots. Owing to the proximity of the mine-field he had been very anxious.
After our smoke we turned in for a sleep which only terminated when the "M.L." reached the shores of Old England and her Diesel oil-engines ceased throbbing! This was long after midnight.
They say our little experience has left its mark on us, but personally I feel as fit as ever.
HOW I HELPED TO TAKE THE TURKISH TRENCHES AT GALLIPOLI
_Told by Wilfred Raymond Doyle, on His Majesty's Ship "The Queen Elizabeth"_
This is the first-hand narrative of an American boy's extraordinary yet characteristic exploits, told from his own viewpoint and in his own language. Young Doyle's noticeable aptitude at telling his story may be accounted for by the fact that he is a born journalist. His parents, who reside in Yonkers, are people of education and refinement. The father is a blind poet of some local repute, and at one time published a little newspaper in the Harlem district of New York City. The special causes which led to the enterprising lad's departure from home, and how he came to enlist in the British Navy, are best detailed by himself in the _New York World_.
At the age of nineteen I was employed in the shipping department of a large publishing house at a salary of six dollars a week, with small prospect of advancement. My family were in need of all the help I could give. I grew restless, and one day February (1916) suddenly decided to make a change. Instead of taking a car for home I boarded a steamer for Boston, expecting to do better in that city, and then to surprise my parents with my success. I could get nothing better than a place as a "bus boy" in a lunch room. After working there for three days I saw a chance of getting a better position, but unfortunately was too late. I was delayed two hours and that cost me my first job.