No words of mine can adequately convey the intense admiration which I felt, and which I know was shared by the whole Navy, for the manner in which their arduous and perilous work was carried out.

These fine seamen, though quite strange to the hazardous work which they were called upon to undertake, quickly accustomed themselves to their new duties, and the nation should ever be full of gratitude that it bred such a race of hardy, skilful and courageous men as those who took so great a part in defeating the greatest menace with which the Empire has ever been faced.
There are, however, just two cases in 1917, typical of many others, which I cannot forbear from mentioning.

The first occurred off the East Coast of England.
On August 15 the armed fishing craft _Nelson_ and _Ethel and Millie_ were attacked by gunfire by a German submarine on the surface at a range of four to five miles.
The submarine first concentrated her fire on the _Nelson_, which immediately slipped her trawl and went to action stations.

The third shot from the submarine pierced the trawler's bows, and, having established the range, the submarine poured a well-directed fire into the _Nelson_, under which she rapidly began to settle down.
The seventh shot struck the skipper, Thomas Crisp, D.S.C., R.N.R., taking off both his legs and partly disembowelling him.
In spite of the terrible nature of his injuries he retained consciousness and gave instructions to the mate, who was his son, to send a message by carrier pigeon to the senior officer of his base reporting that he was engaged with the enemy; he then bade him fight to the last.
The _Nelson_, armed with one small gun, replied to the enemy's fire until the heavy heel which she had assumed made it impossible to bring the gun to bear.

As she was then on the point of sinking the mate decided to abandon her and take to the boat, and begged his father to give them leave to carry him.