We got under way again after having drifted fifty miles to the west. Fourgues was afraid the engines would not run to more than ten knots, but the shaft was stronger than ever. This delayed us considerably. On the night of the seventh of August we entered the Irish Channel and looked for lights. _Search me!_ I had the watch and for three hours Fourgues blackguarded me like the expert he is, because I could not see a lighthouse or any other kind of light! “What have I done to have a blind man like this? Get a new set of eyes! Run her aground! Shove her up against it! Get nice and close! You may see the lighthouses then. You’ll have made us lose three hours. This trip will never end!” He couldn’t see the lighthouses any more than I and that was why he was making such a row about it. We had got almost near enough to touch land; you could see it, like a wharf--but devil a light anywhere!--when, all of a sudden, a craft going at full speed over-hauled us! It only showed lights at intervals. It kept its position as we could see it to port. I kept on my course. _Bang! Bang!_ The ship fired twice with blank. “The devil!” said Fourgues. “We have struck destroyers at practice. There must be others. Keep your weather eye skinned, my boy.” I did! _Bang!_ A shell fell ten yards ahead of us. The destroyer came up and yelled through the megaphone: “Stop! Or we’ll sink you!” Sir, we stopped! The destroyer came closer still. We could see nothing except a red hot cinder or so now and then. “Who are you?” “_Pamir_, French cargo-boat with cotton from America for Liverpool. Why do you stop us?” “Oh! You’re French, are you?” “Yes!” “Right-oh! War’s declared!” “By G----!” cried Fourgues and I at the same time and he fell on me and hugged me. “_Ça y est_, my boy! We are having it out with the Boches!” “What are you going to do?” yelled the destroyer. “Go back to France!” answered Fourgues immediately, and added: “Is England with us?” “You bet!” “Hurrah!” cried Fourgues. “Hard a-starboard and full speed for H----. We’ll report to the Admiralty.” The destroyer accompanied us a little way and finally left us, calling: “Good-bye and good luck!” “Thanks. Same to you!” You can’t deny it, Fourgues is a brick! No hesitation about his turning back to France! He slapped me on the back, offered me a cigar, and joked on the bridge. “No wonder there weren’t any lights! It’s likely we’d show the Huns the way! Tumble down, my boy, and tell Muriac and Blangy. Rout them out if they are asleep. My word, won’t they stare! Send them to the bridge and bring up a bottle of fizz. My treat!” Blangy and Muriac didn’t faint; the guns had awakened them, but they supposed it was manœuvres. “Not pulling our legs?” they both said. “No, to H---- with pull-legs. The Old Man will tell you.”