The year dragged towards its end. The novelty of night firing wore off. John was soon to cease watchkeeping on the upper deck and to join the engineering staff for a period of training. He wrote to his mother, asking her to send him a pipe, for among the boilers even midshipmen under eighteen can console themselves with tobacco. Once, with Gunroom Evolutions in his mind, he wrote: “I think we may have had the worst of our time in this ship. For a whole week now we have been left pretty well alone.” But the next evening his hopes were shattered, and the old business began again. The need of leave, of an interval, however brief, in which there would be no Krame and no Commander, became imperative. When they went ashore the junior midshipmen found a place of refuge in the Garrison Library. There, having paid a small monthly subscription, they could read the newspapers without fear that Krame would enter suddenly, and, because one of them was reading _The Times_, exclaim: “Who has _The Times_? I want _The Times_.” There they could sit in comfortable chairs, and enjoy teas marvellously inexpensive, certain--quite certain--that, until the clock told them they must go, their time was their own. No one would shout at them to pick up paper. Howdray would not make them put away their letters and write out his Division List for him. Elstone would not tell them that he wanted a sketch for his log-book done immediately. In the Garrison Library there was peace. They could talk without continually glancing over their shoulders lest someone should enter by the Gunroom door. They did talk to their great relief. It was good to plan rebellion, though they knew nothing could ever spring from their plans. It was satisfactory to hear, from midshipmen of other ships, that these things went on not in the _King Arthur_ alone. It was amusing to compare method and detail, and to congratulate themselves because certain Evolutions usual in H.M.S ---- and H.M.S. ---- had not yet been devised by Krame’s inventive mind. One afternoon someone brought in news that what was happening in a Home Fleet ship had leaked out. A complaint had been made to the Admiralty. A Court of Enquiry had been ordered. Great things were expected to result from this--perhaps a general reformation. “No,” said Fane-Herbert. “Probably they will keep it out of the papers. And anyhow, people will say: ‘Oh, it’s all an exceptional case. How terrible! but it’s just an exceptional case.’ There may be a court-martial. The Sub or someone may get dipped. And then it will blow over and be forgotten. It won’t make any difference to us.” The great day came at last. “This time to-morrow we shall be on our way home.” “They will give us hell going across the Bay. It’s always worse at sea. No one is away on late leave.” “Oh, what does it matter now? Next week we shall be out of it. Think, sleeping in a bed, and people who don’t shout, and no tidying up the Gunroom, and no Krame for days on end!”