The _Hercules_ went off to Bermuda the morning after Bob and I had come back from Santa Cruz, and we waited on deck till the long lines of towering black mountains were lost to sight. I couldn’t bear to leave Gerald up among them, although he was in Zorilla’s house, and practically out of danger, as far as the wound was concerned, but I’d learnt enough about politics, and the way they were ’run’ in the Republic, to feel sure that his greatest danger lay in the jealousy of the New President, and that he would never be safe in the country—not even if he did resign the Command of the forces. We ran through the ’Narrows’ five days later and anchored in Grassy Bay, off the naval dockyard of Ireland Island, Bermuda. It was rather a shock to see the poor old _Hector’s_ two funnels and damaged foremast sticking up behind the dockyard wall, and I noticed that Bob and one or two of the others looked very white when they saw them. As soon as the repairs to her ward-room had been completed the officers moved out of the gun-room, and I and my mids. were sent aboard her again. It didn’t make much difference to me, but a good many of the mids. did not like going back a little bit. The still half-dismantled ship had too many sad memories for them, and I am sorry to say that Cousin Bob began to mope again—everything reminded him too much of his poor little chum. Every morning, before breakfast, I made them all run round the dockyard to Moresby Plain, for a hockey practice, below the little Naval Club, and whilst we remained here we had two very pleasant games against the _Hercules’_ gun-room, but as we had none to fill, properly, the ’Angel’s’ place at ’centre-half,’ or Barton’s at ’outside-right,’ were beaten both times. ’What a difference, Ginger, old chap,’ I said, as we watched them scrambling into the tea-house together, after the match, just as chummy as they could be. ’Difference!’ Perkins, who was standing near us, said, smiling, ’I should think it was a difference. They won’t leave a thimbleful of tea or a bun in the place, and I shall have to go without any, I suppose.’ ’It’s taken a good deal to make ’em friends, hasn’t it?’ Ginger said sadly. A fortnight later Gerald sent me a telegram, as he had promised, to say that he was allowed out of bed, and I knew that he had sent the same message home to the mater, and felt awfully glad. Nothing more happened at Bermuda worth telling about; we had to work very hard indeed; in six weeks’ time the ship was seaworthy enough to steam home, and one beautiful Sunday morning in May, the _Hercules_ and ourselves anchored behind Plymouth breakwater. As you can imagine, the poor old _Hector_ was a great object of curiosity, and paddle-boats were bringing people off from shore, and steaming round her, all day long.