’My dear boy, they don’t mean it; but just put your helm hard a-port and go full speed astern starboard—if you please. Give ’em back a 9.2 common,[#] please, Commander; they’ve only fired by accident, but accidents are bound to happen sometimes in the best-regulated ships.’ Round we swung on our heels—we just had room—and I dropped my eyeglass to laugh more easily, because that little cruiser—one of those piffling little things I’d towed out of Los Angelos six weeks ago—had hauled down her flag, and was scurrying off as fast as she could go. The poor idiots who’d had their little accident in the fort thought, I suppose, that we were running away, so didn’t ease off again, and by the time Montague, my Gunnery Lieutenant, had reported the for’ard 9.2 cleared away, and the fo’c’stle awning had been furled, we’d turned and were coming back past the fort. ’Have your accident, Montague—as soon as you like; but I’ll only give you one, so don’t miss.’ [#] ’Common’ = common shell, A thin-walled shell with a heavy bursting charge. His accident was quite a success, and when the smoke of the bursting shell had cleared away, there was a hole in the walls through which even my coxswain could have steered the galley without breaking an oar, and that yellow and green monstrosity was being hauled down with a run. Angry! Rather not! I can’t afford to get angry; it’s bad for my gout; I’d had my accident, and proceeded on my way quite ready to apologise for my gross carelessness directly they apologised for theirs. I suppose I should have had to be angry if that shell, or whatever it was, had killed any of my people—except my coxswain, and then I should have blessed them, for he was the most exasperating idiot I’d ever known. An hour later we came up to San Fernando—a miserable deserted-looking collection of dingy white walls and warehouses, fizzling in the awful heat, and, ’pon my word, there was another dirty little cruiser there at anchor, with the yellow and green ensign flying, calmly potting at the town—firing a gun every other minute. We could not see what damage she was actually doing, but the white walls along the sea-front were riddled with holes, and that was good enough for me. ’Front row of the stalls, old chap,’ I told my navigator, and though he’d have walked about on his head, or shaved it, if he thought it would please me, he hadn’t a sense of humour, and looked puzzled. ’As close to her as you can,’ I explained, ’between her and the town;’ and there we dropped anchor, and awaited the next item on the programme. It was jolly lucky for her that she didn’t have any _accidents_. We hadn’t been comfortably anchored for more than five minutes before dozens of black and green flags were hoisted over the town, people began to venture out into the front street, and I had hardly gone below, when one of the signalmen came running down. ’A boat’s pulling this way, sir, from shore, sir, with a black and green flag flying.’