The clogged rows and rows of shipping which stretched for miles into the intractable blue haze westward seemed to sulk and bubble with impatient energy as the flurry of small-boats raced to and fro, from a heavy-laiden coalier under Dutch ensign, to dingy Norwegian liner, to a German oiler riding especially heavy in the grey and turning sea. The little craft scurried furiously, exchanging notes, hoisting signals, shouting insults, and occasionally chucking packages over the side to presumably avoid the oncoming inspection. From his position on the cruiser Cochrane's quarterdeck, Vice-Admiral Goodenough, to whom this particular segment of the blockade had fallen to, observed the impatient comings and goings with apprehension. Certainly, blockade was the inevitable outcome and the only course of action anyone in the admiralty could find appropriate, but the decision to allow no grace between its declaration and enforcement was a somewhat antagonistic one. The reasoning of the admiralty, that the hurried attempt to scurry past the closing dragnet was the best time to catch potential blockade runners was sound, but the idea still did not sit well with him, nor did it with the half-a-hundred merchant captains who's ships were now awkwardly arrayed in a vague queue as destroyers and sloops drew close enough for longboats of armed marines to come aboard and begin searches.

Occasionally a flare would go up, and would be followed by rueful cheers from those around him as ship, found to be carrying 'contraband' as declared by the blockade proclamation, was taken by search parties and steered out of the line before being overhauled by a sloop which took off the civilian crew before running up the white ensign on the newly seized vessel. The murmurings, and grumblings were usually the worst they got, but occasionally shots would ring out and a marine would tumble back over the side in a whirling brawl with a crewman, or a ship would sheer clear of the column and attempt to run past. For the most part this was fruitless, the sheer number of ships at the squadrons disposal quickly dispensed with it, but the sheer scale of contraband became worrying. Tonne on tonne of American military equipment, freighters buckling under the weight of arms, stacked to bursting with artillery, shells, rifles and ammunition, was being steadily craned to its new home in a British depot. How long this sheer scale of smuggled contraband had been making its way to Ireland worried him most of all. The thought was transient though, as a fresh shot, this time of a ship's deck gun, rung out, and a destroyer broke formation to avoid being run down by a tramp freighter which had been next for inspection. Barking like a bulldog, the officers and crew of the ship which took out after them set hot on the merchant's heels, and the admiral, sighing internally, gave orders for signals to be hoisted for the next ship to come alongside.