Press and public were greatly puzzled, but secrecy was at this time essential. ‘This,’ commented a well-known London daily, ‘is probably the first time since the institution of the V.C. that the bestowal of this coveted honour has been announced without details of the deed for which it was awarded.’ The popular press named him ‘the Mystery V.C.,’ and the usual crop of rumours and fantastic stories went round. And while these were being told the gallant commander was busy fitting out another Q-ship in which to go forth and make his greatest of all achievements. This ship was the S.S. _Vittoria_, a collier of 2,817 gross tons. She was selected whilst lying at Cardiff, whence she was sent to Devonport to be fitted out as a decoy. Commander Campbell superintended her alteration, and she began her special service on March 28, 1917. She was armed with one 4-inch, four 12-pounders, two Maxim guns, and a couple of 14-inch torpedo tubes. She was a slow creature, 7-1/2 knots being her speed, but she looked the part she was intended to play. When Commander Campbell took over the command he was accompanied by his gallant crew from _Farnborough_. She had been fitted with wireless, and down in her holds the useful timber had been stowed. On leaving Devonport she changed her name to _Pargust_, but she was variously known also as the _Snail_, _Friswell_, and _Pangloss_ at later dates. She again came under the orders of Sir Lewis Bayly at Queenstown, and then, being in all respects ready to fight another submarine, _Pargust_ went cruising. She had not long to wait, and on June 7 we find her out in the Atlantic again, not very far from the scene of her last encounter. The month of April had been a terrible one for British shipping; no fewer than 155 of our merchant craft had been sunk by submarines, representing a loss of over half a million of tonnage. In May these figures had dropped slightly, but in June they were up again, though in no month of the war did our losses ever reach the peak of April again. Nor was it only British ships that so suffered, and I recollect the U.S.S. _Cushing_ two days previously bringing into Bantry Bay thirteen survivors, including three wounded, from an Italian barque. At this time, too, the enemy submarines were laying a number of dangerous minefields off this part of the world, and as one patrolled along the south-west Irish coast pieces of wreckage, a meat-safe or a seaman’s chest, would be seen floating from some victimized steamer.