The work of the trawlers in the Dardanelles demands special mention. The men running these vessels are in the majority of cases elderly, and the ships themselves were never intended to come under fire; yet these men have constantly been in very hot places, and have gone there knowing what was in store for them.

The ships have been used for every conceivable kind of work. They have carried stores, troops, mails and munitions. They have been engaged in mine-sweeping, patrolling and towing nets. They have tackled the elusive submarine; in fact, they have done everything that can be thought of short of bombarding forts, and they would cheerfully take this job on if required. Here is the typical day of a trawler during general ferry work, on which I took passage.

We left Kephalo early in the morning, calling first at Anzac, then at Helles; from there to Rabbit Island and Tenedos; back to Helles, and, if required, to Anzac again. Generally from Helles this trawler would go direct to Kephalo. The round is seventy odd miles. Every morning on starting, the skipper knew the ship would come under shell-fire at Anzac almost without fail, as the anchorage is commanded by the Turkish guns, and any sign of movement, or of ships arriving or leaving, invariably brought its accompaniment of shells. I gathered from him that this had been his daily lot for four months.

He was a fine type of North Sea skipper, and took everything as it came with a stoicism which was admirable. He didn't like it—nobody does; but it was his job, and there was an end of it!

The day on which I took passage with him was typical of all the others. We left Kephalo at seven in the morning, the sun well up and already hot, blue sky, blue sea and a very light breeze. Anzac, our first port of call, showed up clearly some twelve miles off, standing out, by reason of its distinctive character, from the rest of the coast. Rising between the flat sandy beaches—C beach and Brighton beach—it looked as if the Sari Bair range had suddenly been chopped off or slipped into the sea. Here were no foot-hills sloping gently to the coast, but abrupt sandstone precipices looking very unfinished in the brilliant morning light.

The fact that our reception, of which I had already been warned, would be as usual, was borne out on nearing the coast. The Anzac water-steamer, lying some 3000 yards out waiting for lighters to come off, attracted the attention of the enemy. When we got fairly close to her we heard a distant bang, which told us the Turks were awake. Now a gun being fired at you is unmistakable and quite different from one of your own guns, though the latter may be much louder. In this case, although only a second or two intervened between the report and the splash of the shell, it gave time for speculation as to what was the enemy's objective. The shell fell about fifty yards short of the water-boat, and was followed immediately by another which straddled her, pitching about the same distance over. On this, she rapidly got under weigh and stood out to sea, followed by a number of rounds which were ineffective.

By this time we were close into Anzac beach, and had anchored preparatory to a picket-boat coming off to take our mails, etc. Four other trawlers lay close to us engaged on various duties. The Turks being baulked of their first quarry, now turned their attention to us, and it must be said that nothing is much more unpleasant than to be confined in a very small vessel at anchor with no protection but the thinnest sheet-iron. Their first shot at us was shrapnel, and the range not bad. Shrapnel is, I think, the most spiteful sounding of all shells. The sharp report of the shell burst, followed by a kind of metallic whistle as the numerous bullets tear through space, being very unpleasant. However, after this trial-shot the enemy turned to high explosives, and one's feelings gravitated between hope that they would not hit us and wonder that they didn't. Some of them were certainly closer than I cared for, but having a camera and a feeling that, after all, things were very much in the hands of Allah, I thought the moment seemed opportune for a photograph. Being on the bridge at the time, I held my camera ready and was almost immediately rewarded by a high explosive pitching about thirty yards over us on the port side. There was no time to look in the finder, as the column of water thrown up by a shell subsides very quickly, so I simply pointed the camera at the spot, in the hope that somewhere on the plate there might be a result.

By now we were under weigh again, after handing our mails over to the shore-boat, and the other trawlers were heaving up their anchors. The Turks, realising that little was to be achieved, ceased fire, except for an occasional shrapnel to hurry us on our way.

Anzac, as we left it with the morning sun right overhead, looked a most forbidding spot. The deep, gloomy shadows of the gullies were accentuated by the brilliant sun lighting up each knife-edged ridge. One could picture the scene on that morning of April 25, when the gallant troops from Australia and New Zealand made their wonderful landing on this inhospitable shore.

Our course, after standing well out to avoid the enemy's guns, now lay to the southward, parallel to the shore, Helles being our next calling-place. At this time the only parts of the peninsula occupied by the Allies were Anzac and Helles. Seeing the great extent of country held by the enemy, it was brought home to one what very small holdings were ours after months of desperate fighting. Here and there on the way were monitors and destroyers occasionally firing on enemy gun positions, or on any movements of troops that could be seen. Opportunities for the latter were rare, the nature of the ground rendering it easy for the enemy to keep entirely out of sight. Nearer the end of the peninsula was my own ship, the Theseus, one of the flanking ships patrolling on the left of the troops at Helles. Shortly after we rounded Cape Tekeh and anchored, where again a picket-boat came alongside, bringing details for the island of Tenedos and taking off the mails we had brought. Meanwhile, a certain number of shells were falling on the base camp, and occasionally an "over" would drop among the shipping; but nothing came near enough to worry us.

The base camp from the sea gave an impression of a burnt-up waste. The long occupation had removed every sign of vegetation, and nothing remained but yellow sand and clouds of dust driving seaward in the freshening breeze.

The place was teeming with life, apparently oblivious of the falling shells. The whole face of the sand-cliff was honeycombed with dug-outs and roads cut for transport, and the beaches were covered with the endless paraphernalia of a camp in war-time.

Our next place of call was Rabbit Island, to the south of Helles. As we left the end of the peninsula, a wonderful panorama could be obtained of the whole position. Achi Baba loomed over all, while to the right Seddul Bahr, the entrance to the Dardanelles, and the Asiatic shore showed clearly. It was here that the disastrous attack of April 18 took place, which showed us the futility of forcing the Narrows without an adequate landing force acting in co-operation.

Our stay at Rabbit Island was short. Only one or two ships lay there. The island itself is a barren hummock of very small extent, and of little value except for the special use to which it is being put. Some ships' boats came off for fleet letters and a few mails, after which we took our departure for Tenedos.

Tenedos, one of the most flourishing of the islands in the vicinity of the Dardanelles, is used by us and the French as an aeroplane base. The picturesque harbour is surrounded by quaint buildings, with an ancient fort dominating the whole. A short stay here completed our business. The return journey to Helles and Kephalo was uneventful. True, our reception at Helles was disturbed somewhat by a 6-inch shell, which fell immediately astern of us as we were approaching our anchorage. Fortunately, this was a solo, for, though we momentarily anticipated the usual chorus, nothing further occurred to disturb our peace of mind. None the less, I must say I looked forward to an early departure; but this was disposed of temporarily by the arrival of a picket-boat with orders to wait for two naval officers. However, this only delayed us some twenty minutes, when we took our leave of Helles, arriving at Kephalo at dusk.