I made fast to her, and immediately began the job of filling up with coal, water, and provisions; whilst the crews of the two cutters went inboard in order to get a good meal and a comfortable sleep whilst their boats were being revictualled. Sleep in a cutter crammed with gear is not a success. It does not matter how comfortable you try to make yourself, there is always something sticking into your back; and a chum’s foot in your face, though quite an unimportant detail, does not induce slumber, especially if the owner happens to be restless. I went aboard to have my wounds dressed. Nicholson took out the stitches, and said that both gashes were healing well. I wanted him to let me take Wiggins back again. I had had to leave him behind with his broken ribs (very much against his wish), but he was not yet well enough to rejoin. Then my chum came aboard the _Bunder Abbas_ and smoked his dirty old pipe with me on the little platform deck outside my cabin. We sat in those two easy canvas chairs under the awning and had a good time. "Enjoyed the week?" I asked. "Splendid," he said, beaming and showing his white teeth. "Splendid." "Did that Afghan chap have a shot at you?" "Once or twice," he nodded. "He’s a rattling poor shot." "Shoot back?" "Once or twice; never hit him." He was on board for three hours, and I don’t believe he said another word (as a matter of fact he slept most of the time); but as he was going away he wanted to know whether I had seen Mr. Scarlett’s snake again. I had not. He kept a bandage round it now. If he did uncover it, he did so at night. Popple Opstein was evidently still very interested in it. "I wish he’d let me try that dodge of a pair of pincers and a bit of tin slipped under it, or wiring its head or something," he said. I shook my head, and told him that it was useless to suggest that again. Just before sunset I towed both cutters back to their positions, leaving them there. Nothing happened during that week, although the darkness was very favourable for any dhow to try to creep in. At sunrise every morning I waited inshore to see that the two cutters were safe and had nothing to report, then pushed farther out to sea to steam slowly up and down, whilst the men not on duty scrubbed decks, cleaned guns, or washed and mended their clothes.