THE HUSH BOAT.

Hokitika Guardian, 27 October 1917, Page 1

THE HUSH BOAT.

naval mysteries. A lot of mystery has been spun about what some writers have called the hush boat (writes a naval correspondent to the “Nottinghamshire Guardian” of July 21st). There is more than one. , In fact there is a class of them, hut what part have they played in this war. the public may well ask. The ordinary plain business man, who is doing his own little bit to loot- the gigantic war hill reads about those ships of mystery; lie has . perhaps, never looked upon more that a single man-o’-war, perhapA never had t lie luck to see even onoj and therefore, lie may wonder what is the great navy doing and what is the use of those shifu. 11 need not bo emphasised that each giant as it comes from the ship workers' hands, makes surer and even surer that the' German fleet will continue to cling closer to the shelter of the German shore batteries, hut the day may come—and the navy firmly believes tin' day will come, and that not. far distant—when in the throes of defeat on land, the German rulers will order out their fleet, and when the last desperate card is played out from the gambler’s hand in that hour the hush boats will he the overwhelming trump in our game,

Rut meantime, while that possibility is calmly awaited, they are, like the, rest of the fleet, constantly and for ever engaged on our guard. I can remember the alter noon that the word passed through a village that the Germans had, by some miracle, got something big through our blockade —one of the deadliest and most rapid and dra me tie or peaceful commerce destroyers, a big raider. Tn that particular village you will sometimes meet more important men that you see to-day at Portsmouth and quickly most of the inhabitants were watching of the Iwntolioats that lay not far out. Soon she swung clear of her- moorings and went on the prowl at knots and knots more than any Clyde engineer believed a ship could thresh through water. That she did her work all right W(> knew in time, lor one morning, when the grey Scottish mists lifted, chore she lay again, silent, brooding, the secret of the deed she had) just done sitting lightly on her massive size, hut as impenetrable as the secret she contains.