The _Colonsay_ put in to Arosa Bay to drop ratings who were taking passage to other ships, and of these the ship’s company took farewell with the air of schoolboys who, going out into the playing-fields, leave comrades to do impositions in class-rooms. At Gibraltar they did not tarry long. Soon after the Rock had gone down over the western horizon they were overtaken by a storm, which continued with extraordinary violence until they were within a few hours of Valetta. To reach the bridge was a formidable task. In the batteries, where the fo’c’sle gave shelter against the head wind, progress was comparatively easy, but, once over the break of the fo’c’sle, the trouble began. There was a space of several yards between the head of the battery ladder and the foot of the ladder that led to the bridge. Across this space had been stretched a rope, by clinging to which it was possible to avoid being whisked off the deck and blown, but for the friendly intervention of a davit or a sighting-hood, into the mountainous sea. John, heavy with sea-boots, and with skirts of oilskins clinging to his legs, held this rope and tried to advance, but the combined strength of legs and arms could not move him. While the boatswain’s-mate, secure under the lee of the bridge ladder, smiled at his attempts, John pulled and pulled but went forward not an inch. Then, suddenly realizing how ridiculous he must look, he burst out laughing, and swiftly choked because he had opened his mouth to the gale. And it was not until the boatswain’s-mate--himself securely lashed to a stanchion--came to his assistance, that John could move at all. “Is this an official hurricane?” he said to Dyce, whom he was relieving. “No, not yet. We are logging the wind as eleven. A hurricane is twelve.” He turned over the details of his watch. “Which battery did you come up?” “Port.” “Is that the driest to go down?” John laughed. “There’s devilish little to choose. I think the port’s the better.” Dyce ran his fingers over his face. “I’m sticky all over with it,” he said. “I feel as if I should crack if I grinned. It stings after a time. All the same, it’s exciting on watch. You never know when the foretopmast will go over the side.... Well, d’you know everything you want to know? Will you take over now? I’m going to the Gunroom to fug.” “We’ve just had a green sea in there,” said John, “so the fug is considerable.” The _Colonsay_ entered Valetta white with salt. Ashore there, after coaling, John met Reedham and Ollenor, whose joy in having got so far East was overshadowed by the thought that, when their old shipmates had sailed for Port Said, they themselves would go westward again. “I’d give a year’s seniority to be coming out with you,” said Reedham. “Come and have a drink.”