"Compare it with one of the twelve-inch turret rifles on our modern battle-ships!" exclaimed Dobson. "Why, I'd rather have a good navy revolver to fight with than this ropy thing!" For two or three hours more (a rest being taken at a small restaurant) the officers wandered about the streets of Valetta. Liddon regaled his companions with details of its history, including its capture by Napoleon in 1798, the subsequent two-years siege when the Maltese had risen in revolt against their captors, and its formal cession to the English in 1814. "It's no use, boys, I'm used up," said Dobson at length. "I'm off for the ship; you can come or stay, as you like." "Oh, we'll go along, too," said Starr. "I should have left an hour ago, but I wanted to see how long Liddon _could_ keep it up, before the pumps sucked. He'd make his fortune as a filibusterer against an unpopular bill in the Senate!" They passed along the Strada Reale--"Royal Street"--for the last time, and were just turning down toward the harbour when a slight commotion on the sidewalk ahead attracted their attention. A knot of people had gathered around a group in which some sort of altercation was going on. "Hold on a minute," cried the midshipman, "let's see what's up." The three inseparables pushed their way into the crowd, the outer portion of which was composed of good-natured Maltese and a variety of street-loungers. Within this circle were a dozen sailors from a small Russian cruiser in port. They, in their turn, had corralled a couple of small brown men whom their tormentors were hustling rudely as if to provoke a resistance which would afford an excuse for rougher treatment. The officers from the _Osprey_ simultaneously recognised the victims of this assault, and with a howl of indignation from Bob, and a stern "Stand aside, men!" from Liddon, they pulled off the Russian blue-jackets and took their stand beside the Japanese, who were no other than Oto and Oshima. "_Amerikanski!_" snarled the sailors as they noted the uniforms of the intruders and closed in again, while the throng of idlers increased. "What's the matter, my lads?" said Dobson to the stewards, who seemed in no wise discomposed, but stood quietly awaiting a favourable moment for withdrawal. "We do no harm," said Oshima, when both had given the naval salute. "These men, these Russians"--(it is impossible to describe the tone of lofty contempt with which he pronounced the word, looking around at the burly tars, each a full head taller than himself)--"they stop us here in the street and call us bad names and dare us to fight--the big men--cowards!"