When Fred Larkin regained consciousness, after being hurled into the sea, he found himself lying on a large table covered with a white cloth. Around him stood a number of big, burly men with black beards and stern but not unkindly faces. He knew at once that they must be Russians, and (having applied himself vigorously to the study of their language on his outward voyage from San Francisco) addressed himself to the most amiable-looking of the lot. "Where am I?" he asked, in very poor Russian. The man did not reply, but said, "Do you speak French?" "_Oui!_" replied Larkin, glad to know that he could converse in a tongue much more familiar to him than the former. He repeated his question, adding, as a twinge of pain shot through his shoulder, "I am hurt." "Yes," said the other; "you were struck by a splinter. We picked you up from the water and brought you here. You are English?" "American. Am I in Port Arthur, then?" "You are near Port Arthur, at Laouwei. What were you doing in the Chinese junk which was sunk by the Japanese?" demanded the Russian more sternly. "I am a newspaper correspondent," said Fred boldly, though in a weak voice. His wound pained him more and more, and he rightly guessed that the collar-bone was fractured. "I have been in Tokio, and could not reach the front, so I crossed over to your side, where, they tell me, the press receives more consideration. My credentials are in my inside pocket." The officer--for such Fred deemed him to be--smiled grimly, but made no comment upon this speech. "You must be taken to the hospital in the city, where they will set your broken bone," he said. "Meanwhile you will pardon the discourtesy of covering your face." A word of command was given, and a light cloth laid over the reporter's head. He was then placed gently upon a stretcher and carried on board some kind of a vessel. Before long Fred heard the clamour of a wharf crowd; then felt himself lifted again and borne through the streets of a city which he knew must be Port Arthur, up a rather steep hill, to a building where he was deposited on a cot beside two other men. The cloth was now removed, and the first object which met his eye was the kind, good face of a young woman, on whose arm was bound a strip bearing a red cross. With a feeling that he was in a safe refuge he meekly took the medicine held to his lips and fell into a deep sleep.