By and by the admiral comes into the wireless shack himself and tells Furlong to see if he couldn't raise the strange ship by wireless. But he couldn't. She wouldn't answer; which made the admiral pretty mad, and with the fog lifting and we seeing her again, he trained a big gun on her but didn't fire, though for a second I thought he would--across her bow anyway. All that afternoon we held to our course. Another night and day we hoped to make Vladivostok all right, but coming on to dark our old wreck of a battleship broke down again. So the old man picked out another place to put into--on the northern part of the Korean coast we were now, where the Russian officers were pretty well posted and--something telling us the Koreans wouldn't bother--we felt safe for the night. We all figured we had slipped the _Plantagenet_, and so we had, maybe, only for that blessed supply-ship behind us. She had been sent a wireless not to anchor till a couple of hours after the rest of us--after dark. But she had one of those yap skippers who are always bound to be in the commander-in-chief's eye, and instead of sneaking in without calling attention to himself, he comes bowling along, every light aboard her blazing, and steams like a torch-light procession around the harbor. She might just as well have lit up and kept her search-lights going, for as she passed each one of us her lights were blocked off, which told to any other ship which might be watching outside just how many ships of us there were to anchor inside. That parading skipper certainly did get in the old man's eye. If the admiral's message read anything like it sounded, then that parading skipper must have felt as good as blown from a turret-gun before he turned in that night. Later in the night the officer that in our navy we'd call the flag-lieutenant--a decent kind who talked good English, too--ordered Furlong to turn in. He had been on continuous duty since we left Port Arthur. "You can do no more, and you are much fatigued, you require repose," says the flag-lieutenant. And Furlong thought a little repose wouldn't hurt either; but before going he thought he would give one last listen for anything that might be floating around in the wireless zone. Right away I saw that something was doing. "Look up K K K," he says--"quick!" I got out the printed call-book, but no K K K there. "Perhaps she is some new ship," says Furlong, "or an old one with a plant installed since the last list was put out. Quiet now--maybe I can recognize the sending." He listened; and "No"--he shook his head thoughtfully. "And yet--wait--Sh-h--" he jams the head-gear harder to his ears. "Well, what d'y' think o' that! It's that lobster off the old _Nippon_--nearly two years since I've taken him." "That married----" "Yes," he says. "And still on the _Plantagenet_, d'y' s'pose?" "Must be. I know him now like I'd know his voice, or his signature. And she's not far off either--coming strong!"