"Well, what am I to do with you--that's the question?" said Rexdale, laughing in spite of himself at the reporter's nonchalance. "Strictly speaking----" "Strictly speaking, I've no business on one of Uncle Sam's war-ships without a permit from the Secretary of the Navy, or the admiral of the fleet, at least," said Larkin, with utmost good-humour. "Therefore, we won't speak strictly, until I've had time to look about a little, being under arrest, theoretically." "I can't very well drop you overboard, old fellow," assented Rexdale, "there being a shark or two around who would gobble up even a newspaper man. But really----" "Really, I'll leave you before night, old man," interrupted Fred, "so don't worry. Now you and Lieutenant Staples just sit down and tell a fellow what's the news from home--and hereabouts." "But how did you manage to get on board the _Zafiro_?" queried Dave. "Ah, don't ask me, and then you won't know. The movements of some of the heavenly bodies--comets, for instance, and reporters--can only be calculated from their periodic appearances, my son. Didn't you learn that at the Academy?" asked Fred, as the party of officers betook themselves to the after cabin. "Let it suffice your lieutenant-commandership that I really did go on board, and at the proper dramatic moment materialized before the astonished crew. I had a little more sail than I bargained for, not knowing that Mr. Starr had to report to the admiral before coming here." "Then Bob didn't know----" "Hadn't the ghost of an idea about it, upon my word of honour," said Larkin hastily. "There wasn't a more thunderstruck man on the ship than he, when I stepped on deck. I wish you could have seen his face!" They talked of Boston friends and of the progress of the war, concerning which Rexdale could afford his friend but little enlightenment. "All sorts of reports are afloat," said he. "I see in the home papers--by the way, there's a bunch of them at your disposal--that Chefoo is called a 'fake-factory, working over-time.'" "Not bad," said Larkin. "But so-called fakes often prove to be facts, after all. Has any attack yet been made upon Vladivostock?" "Apparently not. They say the whole sea-front, up there, is a network of submarine mines. Jap torpedo-boats and destroyers are patrolling the sea in every direction, and have picked up one or two vessels with contraband goods. I believe there was a bombardment of the port early in the month, but it amounted to nothing." "And on land?" "Well, the Russians are said to have about four hundred thousand men in Manchuria, and they are arriving by the railroad at the rate of a regiment a day. The Japs probably have at least half that number on the mainland. They are swarming across the Korean Peninsula and will have Port Arthur isolated before long." "If that is so," mused Fred, "I must move quickly." "Move--where?" "I'm going into Port Arthur, my boy."