During the following morning the Captain-Lieutenant of the _Zabiyaka_ paid a visit to the Lieutenant-Commander of R19, and in the course of the conversation the British officers became better acquainted with the chaotic state of affairs in and around Petrograd. A section of the Russian fleet had mutinied, murdering several of their officers and subjecting them to unnameable indignities. Rioting was taking place in the capital, while the soaring increase in wages was met with more than a corresponding rise in the prices of the necessaries of life. Countless revolutionary and Extremist "committees" were being formed, to increase still further the difficulties of the unhappy country. Already the deluded peasantry found that there were stupendous defects in the clap-trap theory of social democratic equality. It was doubtless an easy matter to seize and distribute the possessions of the rich landowners; but it was quite another matter to manage with any degree of efficiency their newly-acquired land. Reports, too, of increasing cases of fraternization between the German and the Russian troops in the trenches showed that the wily Hun, a typical wolf in sheep's clothing, was content to play a waiting game so far as the Eastern Front was concerned, knowing that the anarchy-torn country could be left to itself until the masses of German troops, released for sterner work elsewhere, could return to complete the destruction of the vast but already-tottering new republic. The Russian officer had barely taken his departure when R19's yeoman of signals reported the receipt of a wireless message sent from the British Embassy at Petrograd. It was in cipher, but when decoded its meaning was bluntly emphatic: "The state of affairs here renders it necessary for H.M. Submarine R19 to return to her base. Co-operation on the part of the Russian Government can no longer be guaranteed. Admiralty orders to this effect have been communicated to all British forces engaged in operations in the Baltic and on the Eastern Front." The Hon. Derek read the decoded message and glanced enquiringly at his brother officer. "By Jove," he exclaimed, "we're in a pretty fix! Now what would you suggest, Macquare?" The Lieutenant solemnly closed one eye. "Since you ask me, sir," he replied, "I'd carry on to execute repairs. In our present condition we could no more get out of the Baltic than fly. Refitted we could have a fair chance of having another slap at the Huns." "But in the face of these orders?" asked the Lieutenant-Commander. "Take Nelson's example at Copenhagen as a precedent, sir," rejoined the Lieutenant. CHAPTER XXI The House in Bobbinsky Prospekt