Time after time I was invited to a 'glass of whisky'--in other words, an examination--by the first officer. The whole staff of the ship was assembled there. To the great disgust of the English, I refused the whisky with thanks, and drank coffee instead till further orders--a drink that did not appeal to these gentlemen. In answer to their numerous questions I told them the fibs which our position necessitated. Among other things I told them we had arms and munitions on board for our troops in Africa, and heavy guns which, after breaking through the blockade, we intended to mount in order to start commerce-raiding. A remark which was dropped in the course of these conversations confirmed my conjecture that the reason why the crew of the _Bluebell_ were so angry was that our action in sinking the _Aud_ had deprived them of the prize money which they would have earned by bringing her safely into port. Late next day the _Adventure_ weighed anchor. I now occupied the first officer's cabin, which he had very kindly placed at my disposal. A sentry came in and screwed down the dead light of the scuttle, so that I could no longer see out. So we were passing the spot where the _Aud_ sank. Manoeuvring from side to side for what appeared to me to be an eternity; and keeping close in to the lightship (as I was able to see through a crack) the cruiser gained the open sea. Numerous craft were busy round the spot where the _Aud_ sank. Apparently, then, I must have sunk her at a useful spot, for if a small vessel like the _Adventure_ had so much trouble in passing, how would it fare with really big ships? If I am not mistaken divers were also busy. They were welcome to all they could find, for the water where the _Aud_ lay was too deep even for divers. For this reason I also thought it would be impossible to salve the ship, especially as the strong under-currents would soon bury her in sand. CHAPTER XXIV LAWFUL COMBATANT OR PIRATE? About 5 a.m. I was taken on deck. We were now at Milford Haven, on the south-west coast of England. A strong escort of Marines, which had been sent in all haste from Chatham, came to fetch us. A long, unpleasant journey by special train then followed. Our food during the eighteen hours' journey consisted of two slices of bread with a suggestion of butter. I could not discover where we were going. At various stations the people came to the carriage windows and shouted and spat at us, and the officer in charge of the escort angrily drew the curtains. The soldiers escorting us filled the passages of our two corridor carriages, and when asked where we were going I heard them repeatedly answer, 'To London. They are to be shot in the Tower!' This did not sound very hopeful.