Test Bank For Taxation For Decision Makers 2020 10th by Dennis Escoffier
Test Bank For Taxation For Decision Makers 2020 10th by Dennis Escoffier
Test Bank For Taxation For Decision Makers 2020 10th by Dennis Escoffier
_____ 9. Adam Smith’s four canons of taxation are Equity, Certainty, Economy and Convenience.
_____ 10. Vertical equity asserts that persons in similar circumstances should face similar tax burdens.
_____ 11. There are three basic taxable entities: the individual, the fiduciary, and the C corporation.
_____ 12. All interest paid to a taxpayer must be included in gross income.
_____ 13. The lowest tax rate on the tax rate schedules for taxable incomes is the same for individuals
and C corporations.
_____ 14. A $100 tax deduction is more valuable to a taxpayer than a $100 tax credit.
_____ 15. A corporation incurring a net operating loss in 2019 can only carry that loss forward to offset
profits in future years.
_____ 16. All limited liability companies (LLCs) can file their tax returns as partnerships.
Short-Answer Questions: Provide a brief written answer to each of the following questions.
1. Name and describe two types of taxes other than the income tax. Give an example of each.
ANSWER Wealth taxes are those taxes levied on the value of property owned by a taxpayer.
Examples include real estate taxes, tangible taxes, intangible taxes, and inventory taxes.
Wealth transfer taxes are those taxes levied on the value of property transferred to another. Examples are
the gift, estate, and inheritance taxes. Consumption taxes are taxes levied on the value of goods or
services that are purchased for consumption. Examples include sales, use, excise, and value added taxes.
LO 1.1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
ANSWER A sales tax is levied on a purchase at the point of sale regardless of the state of residence
of the purchaser. A use tax is levied on a purchased item brought into a different state for use when a sales
tax is not paid by the purchaser in the state where the item was purchased. Normally the sales and use
taxes in a specific state are levied at identical rates.
LO 1.1
DIFFICULTY: Moderate.
3. Differentiate a wealth tax from a wealth transfer tax and give an example of each.
ANSWER: A wealth tax is a tax levied on the value of a person’s possessions at a specific point in
time; common wealth taxes would be real estate taxes that are levied on the owner of real property or
intangible taxes on stocks. The wealth transfer tax is levied on the value of a person’s possessions that are
transferred to another person; the gift and estate taxes are examples of wealth transfer taxes.
LO 1.1
DIFFICULTY: Moderate
ANSWER The tax rate in a progressive system of taxation increases at a greater rate than the rate of
increase in income. The higher the income, the greater the percentage of taxes paid. The tax in a
proportional system of taxation increases at the same rate as the rate of increase in income. The
percentage of taxes paid would be the same over all income levels. The tax rate in a regressive system of
taxation increases at a slower rate than the rate of increase in income. The higher the income, the smaller
the percentage of taxes paid.
LO 1.2
DIFFICULTY: Moderate
5. What are Adam Smith’s four canons of taxation? Briefly describe each.
ANSWER Certainty—a taxpayer knows what the tax consequences of a transaction will be when the
transaction is undertaken. Equity—the tax is fair relative to the taxpayer’s level of income and
4 Taxation for Decision Makers Test Bank
circumstances. Economy—the costs of administering and complying with the tax are small relative to the
amount of taxes collected. Convenience—the payment of taxes is simple and easy.
LO 1.3
DIFFICULTY: Easy
ANSWER Horizontal equity would require taxpayers with similar incomes to pay a like amount of
taxes. Vertical equity would require taxpayers with greater (lesser) incomes to pay a greater (lesser)
amount of taxes.
LO 1.3
DIFFICULTY: Easy
7. What tax provision encourages the fiduciary of an estate or a trust to distribute the income annually to
the beneficiaries?
ANSWER: The tax rates applicable to the income that a trust or an estate receives are far more
progressive than any other entity; they have no 12 or 32 percent tax rates and the highest tax rate (37%)
begins at $12,750 of taxable income ($12,500 in 2018).
LO 1.4 REFERENCE TABLES RECOMMENDED
DIFFICULTY: Easy
ANSWER A sole proprietorship has only one owner; a corporation can have one or an unlimited
number of owners. The corporation has limited liability; the sole proprietor is responsible for the
liabilities of the business. There generally are few if any legal requirements to establish a sole
proprietorship; a corporation must be incorporated under the laws of one of the states and can issue
different classes of stock and bonds. The sole proprietor cannot take advantage of employee status, must
pay self-employment taxes, and reports all results of operations on his or her own tax return. A
shareholder-employee of a corporation is eligible for most employee fringe benefits and the corporation
files a completely separate tax return from that of any owner. The sole proprietor is fully liable for all
debts of the business; shareholders are only at risk for their capital investment and are not liable for the
debts of the corporation. There are other differences as well, too numerous to mention.
LO 1.5
DIFFICULTY: Moderate
ANSWER S corporations and partnerships are called flow-through entities because they do not pay
taxes on their incomes and gains. Instead the revenue and expense items flow through to the entity’s
owners and are included in and taxed along with the owners’ other income.
LO 1.5
DIFFICULTY: Easy
10. What are the fiduciary entities and how are they created?
ANSWER The two fiduciary entities are the trust and the estate. A trust is created by a grantor who
places assets in trust for the benefit of another person. A trustee manages the trust assets. An estate is
created anytime a person who owns or has an interest in assets subject to estate taxes dies.
LO 1.5
Chapter 1: Introduction to Taxation 5
DIFFICULTY: Easy
1. Cragen Corporation has gross income of $625,000 and operating expenses of $418,000. What is its
taxable income? What is its income tax liability in 2019? How would your answer change if Cragen
Corporation also had a $20,000 capital loss due to a stock sale?
2. The Shoe Market Inc. (a regular corporation) had $1,875,000 of shoe sales and its cost for these shoes
was $688,000. In addition, Shoe Market received $5,000 of corporate bond interest income and $6,000
interest income on State of California bonds. It paid $512,000 for salaries and had $552,000 of other
operating expenses. What is Shoe Market’s taxable income? What is its income tax liability for 2019?
3. Walter is married and files a joint return. If his adjusted gross income is $64,000 and he has $32,850
of deductions in 2019. What is his taxable income? What is his income tax liability?
4. Susie is single, has salary income of $26,200, and $12,200 of deductions in 2019. What is her taxable
income? What is her income tax liability?
5. Chloe and Bill, both single with no dependents, plan to marry either immediately before or
immediately after year-end. Chloe’s income for 2019 is $89,200 and Bill’s is $86,200 before
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The enemy had then closed in to a range of about 1,500 yards; the survivors of
the engine-room staff had come on deck and the captain ordered the collision-mats
to be placed over the shot-holes, and every attempt to be made to plug them and
keep the ship afloat. This was accordingly done under the direction of Lieutenant
Ernest T. Donnell, the first lieutenant, who appears to have been still unwounded,
and maintained a cheering spirit of indomitable pluck to the last. The coxswain,
who had recovered consciousness, though half-blinded by blood from his wound,
superintended a party who under the captain’s orders were turning out the boats
and endeavouring to launch the rafts. The boats were smashed by shell-fire while
still at the davits, but three rafts—two regulation life-saving rafts, and an
extemporised affair of four barrels lashed together—were placed in the water.
In the meanwhile the midship gun, under the command of Midshipman T.
Smith, R.N.R., maintained a steady fire. The stock of percussion tubes threatened
to run short at one time, and the gunner, Mr. W. Gale, though severely wounded,
crawled down below and fetched a fresh supply, shortly after which he was killed.
Leading Signalman Hodgetts, who had been previously working as one of the
ammunition supply party, was blown overboard by the explosion of a shell; a few
minutes later his dripping figure appeared over the rail, and he coolly resumed his
work; by some curious freak of chance he was again blown overboard by the blast
of a shell, but again he clambered back to his place of duty, and his death.
The crew of the midship gun was ultimately reduced to two men, Able Seaman
Howell, the gunlayer, and Able Seaman Hope. The midshipman trained the gun
while Hope loaded and Howell fired. The captain stood beside the gun giving them
the range, heartening the remnant of the crew by his example of cool courage.
Howell, who had been severely wounded, eventually dropped from loss of blood,
and the captain took his place. A moment later he was himself struck by a shell,
which took off his right leg above the knee.
He lay on the deck in the rear of the gun while the coxswain and a chief stoker,
named Hammell, between them improvised a tourniquet from a piece of rope and
fragment of wood. While they were endeavouring to stop the bleeding,
Commander Loftus Jones, in the words of an eyewitness who survived, “gentleman
and captain as he was,” continued to direct the firing of the gun.
In all history the unquenchable spirit of man has rarely triumphed so completely
over shattered nerves and body. As his strength ebbed, Commander Loftus Jones
seems to have been overtaken by fear lest the ship should fall into the hands of the
enemy, and seeing the German destroyers approaching, he gave orders for the
Shark to be sunk. A moment later, however, the gun fired another round; and
apparently realising that the ship was still capable of further resistance, he
countermanded the order, adding “Fight the ship!”
The gaff on the mainmast at which the Ensign was flown had been broken by a
shot, and the flag hung limp against the mast. The mind of the captain must have
turned at the last to that emblem of all he was dying for so gallantly, for presently
he asked faintly what had happened to the flag. One of the men tending him replied
that it had been shot away, and in great distress he ordered another to be hoisted
immediately.
Able Seaman Hope accordingly left the gun, and climbing up, detached the
ensign and handed it down to Midshipman Smith, who bent it on to a fresh pair of
halyards and hoisted it at the yard-arm. The captain, seeing it once more flying
clear, said, “That’s good,” and appeared content.
The end was now drawing very near. The bows of the Shark had sunk until the
foremost funnel was awash, and the waves were lapping over the waterlogged hull.
Seeing that two German destroyers had approached to within a few hundred yards
with the evident intention of administering the coup de grâce, Commander Loftus
Jones gave his last order to the ship’s company, “Save yourselves!”
He was helped into the water by the coxswain and a number of others who had
tended him devotedly after he received his mortal wound, and floated clear of the
ship with the support of a life-belt. The remainder of the crew, to the number of
about a score, swam towards the rafts and pieces of floating wreckage.
Two torpedoes struck the Shark amidships almost simultaneously. With a
muffled explosion she lurched violently to starboard, flinging overboard the dead
and wounded who still remained on deck. Her stern rose until it was almost
perpendicular and she sank with colours flying, about an hour and a half after firing
her first shot.
Stoker Petty Officer Filleul and Able Seaman Smith succeeded in placing the
captain on the raft of barrels, where they propped him in a sitting position with the
aid of life-belts and buoys. While this was being done the captain attempted to
smile, and shook his head, saying, “It’s no good, lads.”
Stoker Petty Officer Filleul remained by the captain, and Able Seaman Smith
swam to one of the other rafts on which the coxswain, Petty Officer Griffin, Chief
Stoker Newcombe, Yeoman of Signals Banham, Stoker Swan, and Able Seamen
Hope and Howell had succeeded in crawling. The three rafts drifted within sight of
each other through the long northern summer twilight.
Shortly after the Shark sank, the British battle cruisers swept past in pursuit of
the enemy. The captain asked if the pursuing ships were British. Filleul replied that
they were, and the captain said, “That’s good!”
Not long afterwards his head fell forward and his gallant spirit fled.
The second life-saving raft had been so damaged by shell-fire that only two
men could be accommodated upon it. The two most severely wounded (one of
them had lost a leg) were helped on to it by a number of others who themselves
clung to the edge, among them being the first lieutenant. Able Seaman Smith, on
the other raft, realising that the majority were badly wounded, and being himself
only slightly hurt, swam over to render what assistance he could. The first
lieutenant, who had unfailingly cheered and comforted the stricken little band,
presently asked if any could still sing, and then, without faltering, himself began:
“Nearer, my God, to Thee.”
Those who had the strength joined in as they clung submerged up to their shoulders
in the icy water, almost unrecognisable from the thick black oil which floated on the
surface; and so, one by one, death overtook them. Able Seaman Smith alone survived
more than a couple of hours.
While it was still light the British Battle Fleet was sighted through the mists, and the
drenched, haggard figures on the other raft cheered it as it passed five miles away. With
indomitable optimism they all clung to the hope of a speedy rescue, and Able Seaman
Howell semaphored across the waste of water “We are British,” in the hope that it
would be read by one of the distant ships.
The twilight deepened into dusk, and the raft on which Able Seaman Smith alone
survived was lost to sight. The six occupants of the other sat with the waves washing
over them, nursing their wounds and debating the prospects of being picked up. The
yeoman of signals rambled into delirium at times, and finally said, “I must have a
sleep.... Let me get my head down.”
Able Seaman Hope attempted to dissuade him, but without avail. “I must sleep,” he
insisted pathetically, and as he stretched himself in the bottom of the raft the ruling
instinct of the Service came back through the mists of death. “Give us a shake if the
captain wants anything,” he said, and his loyal spirit passed to join that of his captain.
Shortly before midnight the distant lights of a steamer were sighted. Able Seaman
Howell then remembered for the first time that he had fastened a Holmes light with
wire on one of the rafts a few days previously. Steadying himself with difficulty on the
pitching raft, he fumbled along the edge and presently found the little tin cylinder that
was to prove their salvation. With the last remnants of his failing strength he wrenched
the nipple off, and the carbide, ignited with the water that washed over them, burnt with
a bright flare. They waved it frantically and tried to shout: but the flare had been seen,
and presently out of the darkness loomed the hull of the Danish s.s. Vidar. Her captain
brought the ship alongside the raft, and one of her boats, which had already picked up
Able Seaman Smith off his raft, presently rejoined them.
All survivors have testified to the high courage of Able Seaman Hope. Throughout
the whole ordeal his plucky personality came constantly to the fore, and he alone
retained strength to climb on board the Vidar unaided; on reaching the upper-deck he
refused to go below or receive any attention until the remainder of his shipmates had
been hoisted on board.
The Vidar cruised in the vicinity for upwards of two hours in the hope of picking up
further survivors, and Stoker Petty Officer Filleul was seen floating on the water and
rescued as he was losing consciousness. No further traces of the Shark’s crew were
found, however, and the Vidar shaped course for Hull. On the passage Chief Stoker
Newcombe, who had been wounded at the commencement of the action, succumbed to
exhaustion in spite of every endeavour to save his life.
His Majesty the King, in recognition of the valour of the captain, officers, and men
of the Shark, granted Commander Loftus W. Jones the only posthumous honour that
can be awarded in either Service, the Victoria Cross. The six survivors, each of whom
had played his part with the utmost gallantry, were decorated with the Distinguished
Service Medal.
A few weeks after the action the fishermen of the little village of Fiskebackskie on
the coast of Sweden, found washed ashore the body of Commander Loftus W. Jones,
V.C. It was buried in the village churchyard on June 24th, with every token of sympathy
and reverence.
The enemy closed in nearly all cases to within fifty yards of their victims, poured
two salvos of high-explosive shell into each, and passed on. They had no time for fancy
shooting and there were few misses. It is to be hoped they found the gruesome work to
their taste.
In one case a German destroyer misjudged her distance and came so close to her
victim that she was unable to depress her guns sufficiently to bring them to bear on the
little target. She fired as she rolled instead, and the drifter Cloverbank turned on the
instant into a splintered shambles, buried in clouds of steam and rocketing sparks. Only
one man survived the first salvo, Deckhand Plane, R.N.R. (Trawler Section). He
blundered forward to the gun through the flames and fumes of bursting shell, and
finding it loaded, returned the fire at point-blank range, single-handed, half-blinded,
stupefied by smoke and din.
It was brave work, but all round him in the darkness amid the flames of guns and
blazing ships and all the savagery of that onslaught, the Drifter Patrol was taking its
gruel not a whit less gallantly. The survivors launched their splintered dinghies,
carrying their wounded with them, and paddled clear of the blazing wrecks that a few
minutes before had been ship and home. The two enginemen of the Violet May,
Engineman Ewing and Engineman Noble, succeeded in launching their boat, and
lowered into it the mate, mortally wounded, and a wounded deckhand. The remainder
of the crew lay inextricably entangled in the blazing wreckage, dead. The survivors
paddled clear, waited till the enemy had passed on, and then closed their little ship
again. The fire had hold of her forward, steam was pouring from her wrecked engine-
room, and the ammunition was exploding broadcast about her decks. “A doot she’s
sinkin’,” said Ewing stoutly. Noble said nothing: he was not given overmuch to speech,
but he made the painter fast and proceeded to climb inboard again. Ewing followed and
between they fought and overcame the fire. “Dinna leave me, Jamie,” cried the mate
piteously; “Dinna leave me in the little boat.” “Na, na,” was the reply. “We’ll na leave
ye,” and presently they brought their wounded back on board and took them below
again. The mate was laid on his bunk and Ewing fetched his shirts from his bag and tore
them up into bandages. “An’ them his dress shirts,” murmured Noble. It was his first
and last contribution to the narrative. They took turn and turn about to tend the
wounded, plug the shot-holes, and quench the smouldering embers of the fire,
reverently dragging the wreckage from off their dead, and comforting the dying mate in
the soft, almost tender accents of the Celt.
“ ’Tis nae guid,” said the mate at last. “Dinna fash about me, lads. A’ll gang nae
mair on patrol,” and so died. But they saved their little ship, and she lies in a corner of
the basin at her base, a mass of twisted metal and charred woodwork, to testify to the
courage of the British fisherman in war.
The night’s work counted for a German victory, and had it not been for the pitiful
braggadocio of the German official communiqué, one would have been tempted to
leave it at that. True that seven little fishing craft with a gun in each bow would never
make port again, but seven more took their places before the sun was over the horizon
on the morrow of the affair. Three score or so of British seamen had finished their life’s
trick and passed to their long watch below. But England and the Channel Patrol have
the story of their passing: the pity is that it must here be so brief.
It was a rather pathetic gathering that mourned its dead that Sunday morning in the
grey church by the quayside at Dover, with the painted sunlight streaming down
through the stained-glass windows, lighting the weather-beaten faces of skippers and
deckhands, trimmers and enginemen of the Trawler Reserve. There was, moreover, in
their solemn faces a trace of faint hurt bewilderment, like that on the face of a child that
has bumped its head in the dark.
They were only fishermen, for all their brass buttons and blue uniforms and
plentiful display of D.S.C.’s and D.S.M.’s; simple folk accustomed to judge life by its
tangible results. They were not concerned with strategy or the might-have-been. They
had been accustomed to look to their big brothers, the destroyers, in the simple faith of
children when there was trouble, and for once it seemed they had looked in vain. They
had had a drubbing, and they took it according to the tradition of British seamen; but
the puzzled, grieving look remained.
The captain of the Drifter Patrol marched them away from the church and talked to
them, standing on a drum of paint in the more familiar environment of coils of wire,
floats, nets, mine-cases, and all the grim impedimenta of their calling. It was in no
sense of the word a speech, but it was a very moving little address. “Never fear,” he
concluded; “we’ll take tea with the Hun before you’re all much older, or I’ll eat my
hat.” It takes a brave man to prophesy concerning war these days, but the men of the
Drifter Patrol stumped back to their little craft comforted, and, as events transpired, he
was right.
In the dark hour preceding dawn on March 21st (five weeks later) the British
destroyers Botha (Commander Roger L’E. M. Rede, R.N.) and Morris (Lieutenant-
Commander Percy R. P. Percival, R.N.), and the three French destroyers Mehl, Magon,
and Bouclier, were on patrol in the eastern waters of the Channel, when a sudden
outburst of firing was heard to the northward. Vivid flashes of gunfire out to sea made it
plain that the enemy was engaged upon a futile bombardment of the crumbling bathing-
sheds of deserted French watering-places.
The Allied force promptly made for the flashes at full speed, led by Botha; star shell
fired in an endeavour to light up the enemy and obtain their range however merely had
the effect of quelling the bombardment and scattering the raiders, who were never seen
again.
The patrolling force then proceeded to search to the northwestward in the hope of
intercepting any divisions of the enemy who had ventured more into mid-channel; star
shells were fired at intervals, for the night was misty, and presently one of these
bursting ahead revealed the shadowy outline of a force of enemy destroyers and torpedo
boats sneaking off through the darkness in the direction of their base.
The Botha challenged, and an unfamiliar reply winked at them out of the night; the
next instant British and French were pouring a heavy fire into the enemy. For a few
minutes a grim little fight ensued. The Allies rapidly overhauled the raiders, and set the
darkness ablaze with flashes of gunfire and blazing wreckage flying broadcast from
shell bursting on impact. A running fight between torpedo craft is like a battle between
scorpions; whichever gets a sting home first rarely has need to strike again. None of the
German torpedoes found their mark, but the Morris, emerging from a smoke screen
flung out by the fleeing enemy, cut off a German destroyer of a large type and
torpedoed her at 500 yards range. She blew up and sank almost immediately, heeling
over amid clouds of steam and vanishing stern first.
In the meanwhile, Botha’s main steampipe had been severed by a stray shell and she
immediately commenced to lose her way through the water. Her commander, realising
that if he was to finish his “cup of tea with the Hun” he must needs drink it quickly,
fired both torpedoes at the leading boats, and, putting his helm hard over, rammed the
fourth boat in the line cleanly amidships. His speed had dropped considerably, but it
sufficed to drive the knife-edged bows of the Botha clean through, cutting the enemy
completely in half.
Botha then swung round and attempted to repeat the coup on the next astern; the
Hun succeeded in eluding the Botha’s crippled onslaught, but fell a victim to the French
destroyers. She lay disabled and ablaze, and they closed and pounded the flaming
wreck with torpedo and gun fire as a man grinds a dead snake under his heel.
Morris by this time had relinquished the pursuit, having lost the quarry in the smoke
and mist; she returned to the scene of action, and took her lame sister in tow while the
French destroyers circled round in the grey dawn picking up prisoners. From statements
made by these, it appears that no less than eighteen torpedo craft had sallied forth for
the raid. They were unhesitatingly attacked and rather badly mauled by two British and
three French destroyers and fled (as one of the British officers picturesquely described
it) like scalded dogs.
The adventures of the remaining fifteen were by no means terminated when they
quitted French waters, leaving three of their number behind. A squadron of the
R.N.A.S. bombing machines proceeding up the coast on business sighted the homing
German flotillas and fell upon them—or rather, suffered their bombs to do so. They
reported having completely thrown the enemy into disorder and scattered them in all
directions. A squadron of enemy sea-planes that had gone out at dawn to look for the
wanderers then encountered the escort fighters of the bombing machines, and in a very
short time had their numbers reduced by four. Of these, three were accounted for by one
British pilot.
It must have been with feelings of more than ordinary relief that the German
torpedo force sighted the long grey mole of Ostend Harbour through the morning mist.
But even then their nerves had yet another ordeal to face. Something rushed across the
face of the water in a cloud of spray apparently from nowhere, a sinister unseen thing
travelling at incredible speed. A torpedo struck the stern of one of the German
destroyers, and the cloud of spray tore away through a hail of shell and bullets,
unscathed, and vanished in the mist.
THE NAVY-UNDER-THE-SEA
The year or so before the war found the Submarine Service still in its infancy, untried,
unsung, a jest among the big-ship folk of the Navy-that-floats, who pointed with
inelegant gestures from these hundred-feet cigar-shaped egg-shells to their own
towering steel-shod rams and the nineteen-thousand-odd tons behind each of them.
The Submarine Service had no leisure for jests at that time, even if they had seen
anything particularly humorous about the comparison. In an intensely grim and
practical way they were dreamers, “greatly dreaming”: and they knew that the day was
not far off when these little wet ships of theirs would come into their own and hold, in
the bow and stern of each fragile hull, the keys of death and of hell.
The Navy-that-Floats—the Navy of aiguillettes and “boiled shirts,” of bathrooms
and Sunday-morning divisions—dubbed them pirates. Pirates, because they went about
His Majesty’s business in football sweaters and grey flannel trousers tucked into their
huge sea-boots, returning to harbour with a week’s growth of beard and memories of
their last bath grown dim.
The Submarine Service was more interested in white mice[3] than pirates in those
days, because it was growing up; but the allusion stuck in the memory of one who, at
the outbreak of war, drew first blood for the submarines. He returned to harbour flying
a tiny silk Skull-and-Crossbones at his masthead, to find himself the object of the
Navy’s vociferous admiration, and later (because such quips exchanged between
branches of the Naval Service are apt to get misconstrued in less-enlightened circles) of
their Lordships’ displeasure.
The time had come, in short, when it was the turn of the Submarine Service to
develop a sense of humour: humour of a sort that was apt to be a trifle dour, but it was
acquired in a dour school. They may be said to have learned it tickling Death in the
ribs: and at that game he who laughs last laughs decidedly loudest.
The materials for mirth in submarine circles are commonly such as can be easily
come by: bursting bombs, mines, angry trawlers, and the like. Things not in themselves
funny, perhaps, but taken in conjunction—— However....
A sower went forth sowing; she moved circumspectly at night on the surface and
during the day descended to the bottom, where her crew slept, ate sausages and fried
eggs and had concerts; there were fourteen items on the programme because the days
were long, and five instruments in the orchestra. For two nights she groped her way
through shoals and sand-banks, negotiating nineteen known minefields, and only the
little fishes can tell how many unknown ones. Early in the third night she fixed her
position, completed her grim sowing (thereby adding a twentieth to the number of
known minefields within a few square miles off the German coast) and proceeded to