Alongside of me, the chief engineer, Captain Bernander, my old shipmate and friend, was angrily explaining something to his assistant. I did not hear what he said, nor could I understand why he was so excited when everything had been finally settled. Whether for better or for worse it was impossible to alter things now. “All in good time, my dear fellow,” said I, taking his arm. “Let us go and drink some tea--my throat is parched.” Turning his kind grey eyes on me in astonishment, and without replying, he allowed me to lead him away. We went up to the ward-room, which at this hour was usually crowded and noisy. It was empty. Two or three officers, after being relieved, as well as some from the nearest light gun batteries, were sound asleep on the sofas, awaiting the alarm, or for their turn to go on watch. The messman, however, who was always ready for any emergency, brought us tea. Again on all sides this dreadful, painful stillness. “The chief thing is, not to be in too great a hurry.--One straight shot is better than two bad ones.--Remember that we have not a single spare shell, and, till we reach Vladivostok, none are to be got,” came in a somewhat inaudible voice from behind the closed door of the stern cabin. Evidently a sub-lieutenant, Fomin by name, was holding forth. “Preaching!” angrily said Bernander, helping himself to some hot tea. I saw that he was very annoyed about something and wished to unburden himself. “Well! tell me all about it! What is the matter?” “It is all this cursed German coal,” he said, and lowering his voice and looking rounds--“You know, of course, that we had a fire in the bunkers?” “Yes! I know; but surely, thank goodness, they put it out? Do you mean there’s another?” “No! Not quite! Listen! There’s a vast difference between rapid-burning and slow-burning coal. Much more is consumed. Compared to good coal, 20 to 30 per cent.----” “Shut up!” I interrupted. “Why, what’s up with you? Are you afraid you’ll run out? Up till now, surely, you have been burning our surplus! You ought to have in hand the full normal quantity.” “Full or not, we shall have less than 1000 tons by morning.” “But it’s 600 miles to Vladivostok! Where do you want to go?” “Have you forgotten the _Cesarevitch_? On 10th August, when her funnels were shot away, she burnt 480 tons in the twenty-four hours! Well--we are burning more!” “Pooh! your nerves are unstrung,” I exclaimed. “All your bunkers haven’t caught fire!” “You don’t understand!” angrily exclaimed Bernander, and, quickly finishing his tea, he seized his cap and went out.