BLOCKADING.

Taranaki Daily News, 28 March 1916, Page 7

BLOCKADING.

HOW THE NAVY DOES IT. Puahalong—this is not her real same, but the one her crew gave her—was tramping her beat in a stormy sea, which nearly rolled her over one minute and galloped her contemptuously across her decks the next. She was on what is officially called examination duty—"blockading" is the uuoffiial name for it. Her business was to patrol a given stretch of water, as a constable does his beat, and see that no vessel slipped by her without giving an account of itself; where it was coming from, whither it wag going, what cargo it had on board, and various other matters that many a merchant skipper would rather keep to himself than tell ft King's ship these times. So far as Pushalong's crew were concerned, this was duty, and they did it in the conscientious, uncomplaining Navy way, though they could have named other Work that would- have suited their taste belter View it from whatever point oi the compass you may, thi s boarding all sorts of craft in all sorts of weather upon the high seas and interviewing skippers who do not want to see you is not a cheery job, though a very necessary one in war time.

As well as discomforts it has discouragements, as "Pushalongs" had found. "Neutral" skippers with contraband in their holds feel towards examination officers much as a "ourglar does towards the policeman who catches him dropping over a well with his "swag"—and they smile no welcome when they throw out the Jacob's ladder. When the overhaul is completed, and what "the search" feels convinced is contraband bound for an enemy destination has been found, it becomes a mortification to the soul to have to release this just because in far-away London some fellow who deals in quibbles rather than hard facts says you must do so. "This seems more like obliging the enemy than blockading them," grumbled Pushalong's captain after one such experience. "Yes, but we can't help ourselves in the matter," sighed his sub. "Politicians are like eels: you never know .which way they'll wriggle."

The funnels of a steamer showed upon the horizon, and Pushalong raced off to meet her. Some fifteen minutes' liaTd steaming brought her alongside the stranger, which proved to be. a merchantman flying a neutral flag. "Lie to, I'm going to board you," signalled Pushalong. Knowing it was useless to object, the vessel obeyed the command. Out swung one of Pusha'ong's bo».ts, and a search party, headed by an 'jfficer, jumped into it. Very soon they were aboard the ship, being met as thuy clambered over her side by ■the captain, who showed his papers. The search officer glanced through these. "Agricultural implements for ," he commented. "But I shall have to examine your cargo." "All right," replied Jhe skipper, turning to his crew, and orjdering them to "Oft" hatches." • The search party looked through the ;sliip and found her full of agricultural implements, as the manifest stated. Everything appeared correct. But when the inspection was nearly ended a bluejacket casually tapped a plough handle. It rang suspiciously, so he pulled out Ma clasp knife and soraped off some of the paint. His eyes opened in surprise, and he quickly picked up a ploughshare and scraped that also. "Look, sir," he exclaimed to his officer. "All copper, tons of it," and he iwaved his hand towards the cargo. In a moment the officer became alert. ,lfore articles were scraped—and with a 'like result. It was true thc,t the ship carried a cargo of farming implements There were ploughs, ploughshares, harrows, and various o£b.er aids to husbandry. But the whole lot was made of copper, nicely painted over, and to the eye looked just like the real thing. It would have been no trouble to have melted thim into ingots had they "got through," but they did not. "Well, that's a cute trick," ejaculated the officer, who, turning to the skipper of the ship, said, "I'm going to take you into " She was a beamy old Dutch trawler. At least, she flew the Dutch flag, and her skipper was apparently as jolly an old Dutchman as one could meet.' He said he was a Dutchman, and appearances corroborated the statement. When the patrol boat went alongside his vessel he welcomed it jovially and pointed to his wells, which were overflowing with fish.

"You seem to have matte a good catch," remarked tlie officer in charge of the boat.

Ma, ja, a ver' goot cateh; would you like some fish for supper?" replied the skipper genially, and forthwith began throwing fish into the boat. He give liberally, and when the boat puffed away, having found no contraband in the trawler, it carried enough fish to supply half the crew of a Dreadnought.

A few days later the same trawler, with the same hearty, professedly Dutch old sea-dog in command of her, was overhauled by another patrol vessel. Thi s time only the fore well of the trawler contained fish. Her skipper sought to explain the circumstance by saying that a carrier had taken away part of his cateh. "That may be so." answered the patrol officer; "but I've done a bit, of fishing and we never went about with one well full and the other empty. I want to see what you're got 'forrard' there. You must move the fish. Hearing this the cloak' of geniality fell from the skipper. He began to bluster, but this availed him nothing. The officer was determined. He had the fish removed and beneath them found—a string of mines. Examining ships is no work for the guileless; or. one might more correctly say, the guileless are not fit for the work. Though a man may begin this duty believing in the probity of h's fellow-men, that belief soon leaves him, and a suspicious, liard-to-eonvince spirit takes its place. The latter is the right frame of mind for the task, as innumerable happenings prove. One is always "up against" astute tricksters—and guile can only be defeated By guile. A naval reserve officer had overhaul&d a trawler that was flying a neutral ag without finding anything wrong about her, and was just about to leave when his eye fell upon a big coil of rope lying neatly pile amidships. "That's a fine hawser you have there," he remarked. "Yes," answered t'ie skipper, who added something about believing in keeping good gear. "H'm," reflected the skipper. "H's a big hawser for a trawler to carry. Cut it," he added, turning to one of his men. The man did so—out spouted a stream of petrol, and the gams was up. That innocent-looking hawser was really a huge rubber pipe flifed with petrol and having hempen strands wound cleverly round it so that it looked just