Engdahl showed up with the oil tanker just about the time we got the wiring complete. We rigged up a pump and filled the bunkers till they were topped off full. We guessed, out of hope and ignorance, that there was enough in there to take us half a dozen times around the world at normal cruising speed, and maybe there was. Anyway, it didn't matter, for surely we had enough to take us anywhere we wanted to go, and then there would be more. We crossed our fingers, turned our ex-ferry-stoker loose, pushed a button-- Smoke came out of the stacks. The antique screws began to turn over. Astern, a sort of hump of muddy water appeared. The _Queen_ quivered underfoot. The mooring hawsers creaked and sang. "Turn her off!" screamed Engdahl. "She's headed for Times Square!" Well, that was an exaggeration, but not much of one; and there wasn't any sense in stirring up the bottom mud. I pushed buttons and the screws stopped. I pushed another button, and the big engines quietly shut themselves off, and in a few moments the stacks stopped puffing their black smoke. The ship was alive. Solemnly Engdahl and I shook hands. We had the thing licked. All, that is, except for the one small problem of Arthur. * * * * * The thing about Arthur was they had put him to work. It was in the power station, just as Amy had said, and Arthur didn't like it. The fact that he didn't like it was a splendid reason for staying away from there, but I let my kind heart overrule my good sense and paid him a visit. It was way over on the East Side, miles and miles from any civilized area. I borrowed Amy's MG, and borrowed Amy to go with it, and the two of us packed a picnic lunch and set out. There were reports of deer on Avenue A, so I brought a rifle, but we never saw one; and if you want my opinion, those reports were nothing but wishful thinking. I mean if people couldn't survive, how could deer? We finally threaded our way through the clogged streets and parked in front of the power station. "There's supposed to be a guard," Amy said doubtfully. I looked. I looked pretty carefully, because if there was a guard, I wanted to see him. The Major's orders were that vital defense installations--such as the power station, the PX and his own barracks building--were to be guarded against trespassers on a shoot-on-sight basis and I wanted to make sure that the guard knew we were privileged persons, with passes signed by the Major's own hand. But we couldn't find him. So we walked in through the big door, peered around, listened for the sounds of machinery and walked in that direction. And then we found him; he was sound asleep. Amy, looking indignant, shook him awake. "Is that how you guard military property?" she scolded. "Don't you know the penalty for sleeping at your post?" The guard said something irritable and unhappy. I got her off his back with some difficulty, and we located Arthur.