"No. 1", of course, you remember, was damaged by the explosion out at Spithead, and had spent weeks in Portsmouth repairing. At last everything was ship-shape again, and on 16th October we were lying alongside the basin waiting for the Skipper, who was coming out on our trials, with steam blowing off in clouds and Elridge, our Engineer, getting very impatient. Presently down came Captain Helston, looking pretty well fagged out, and with him surly old Dr. Fox, and his Yankee secretary. Directly they got aboard, I cast off and threaded my way down the harbour and out to Spithead. As we were passing the end of Southsea pier the Captain borrowed my telescope, and saying, "There they are again", handed it to me. "Those three Chinese, sir?" I asked him. "Yes; they followed me down from town, and have been shadowing me for the last four weeks. You can imagine I am thankful to get afloat once more." On our way to the measured mile we had to pass close to the rest of the squadron anchored at Spithead, and we stopped engines alongside the _Strong Arm_, whilst a boat came across for orders. When we started again the Skipper seemed much relieved, and I quickly knew why, for he came for’ard to the bridge and told me to make for a rendezvous 250 miles s.w. of the Needles, and that there we should be joined by the rest of the fleet. "Thank God, Pattison, I’m at sea once more!" "Not going back, sir?" I asked, naturally very surprised. "No, Pattison, no. I’m sorry to inconvenience everybody, but it was absolutely necessary. Haven’t you wished your people good-bye yet?" "No," I answered, getting rather red in the face, for I was thinking that I had never even thanked the little girl who had got me my appointment. "Nor have I, nor have I," half sighed the Skipper to himself. The Doctor was apparently in the secret, but Hopkins, the Yankee, seemed terribly cut up, as he had made arrangements for a week’s leave on very urgent private affairs, and in fact was only waiting for "No. 1" to get back to Portsmouth to start. How strange it is that Americans never seem to have any idea of discipline? He took it almost as a personal insult that he had not been informed previously, and for a second I thought he would fly at the Captain, he looked so angry. However, he calmed down quickly enough. The orders that the Captain had sent aboard the _Strong Arm_ were to direct Captain Hunter to proceed to the given rendezvous at easy speed, weighing as soon as possible after sending a boat ashore to telegraph to the Captain of the _Laird_. They were exceedingly prompt in obeying this last order, for before five minutes elapsed, we saw their picket-boat tearing along in the direction of Portsmouth.