Just across the hall from our "Bridal suite" there was tremendous confusion. A corpulent British technical mining expert was rushing about his room in a perfect frenzy, looking for a heavy blue sweater he had carefully hung on a peg against just such an emergency as this;--of course, manlike, he blamed his wife for having mislaid it (my wife contributes this slam gratis.) However, after a few minutes' search, one of them discovered that the sweater was just where it belonged--on the man's back. I met "Father" Cross,--a veritable giant of a man and the greatest authority on Chinese dialects in the country,--shouting in a great, roaring voice: "Bar steward! Bar steward! bring me a bottle of whiskey, quick!" I could hear him mumbling: "You don't get _me_ into a life-boat without a bottle of something to keep me warm." This same man lost his trousers while climbing out of the life-boat onto the _Wolf_ when the _Hitachi_ was first captured. Somebody sent him a package a few days afterwards containing an old pair of suspenders, and I think that "Father" would have murdered the sender if he could have found out who it was. I have often regretted that the sender did not enclose Lieut. Rose's calling card. Just about the time I reached the deck there was an order given from the bridge of the _Wolf_ in a very disgusted voice, which was shortly followed by a very choice assortment of cuss words, some of which were in English. I looked to the Westward and saw that our rescuing cruiser was only a cloud, and at that time was about five degrees up from the horizon. Later on I kidded some of the German Officers about it, and they each passed the blame on to somebody else; but just as this cloud had fooled me it had fooled them as well. "Father" Cross, however, averred that he knew what it was all the time, and that it was only a "sandy" on his part to get an extra bottle of whiskey.