He went off to open his sealed envelope and I proceeded behind the destroyer all by myself, proud as could be in the midst of all that steel. Nevertheless, it was annoying not to have known that we should run up against the mail-boat. You can get along, old chap, but at home they will think I’ve been drowned, for they’ve been a month without a letter. When Fourgues returned to the bridge I expected him to tell me about it, and I began: “Well, Captain?” “Carry on, my boy.” He stood near the speed indicator, frowning and tapping on the rail. I could see that he was disturbed, but there was no use putting in my oar. I should only have caught it, whereas, as he has no one but me to talk to, it was all sure to come out before long. He went down again and gave orders for doubling the watch--two men for’ard, one aft. Then he said that as we were going up and down the Adriatic again he and I should be watch-keepers with the others to support us except during meals, which we should continue to eat together, but in the chart-house. Afterwards he ruminated without uttering another syllable until dinner. I kept my mouth shut, but I was beginning to be astonished to see Fourgues shutting up just at the moment when he was going to do something interesting. He is more apt to let rip. Finally he exploded: “Well, anyway, we’d better talk things over. Say, kid, do you know what they asked me on that battleship?” “Mum’s the word!” says I to myself, says I. “Well, they asked me why I didn’t have wireless, and why I didn’t have a lookout on the masthead, and where were signal lights, and how was I going to communicate with them at night and with the destroyer, and why this and why that! Holy blazes! they have only to give the order! I want nothing better than to have the _Pamir_ rigged with all the gadgets in creation and with new boilers and a whole shaft into the bargain! But think of it! To act as though they had caught me napping! I’m not a battleship! Well, then I turned in and asked one of them who was going to ask me another dam silly question--a little tin-pot Commander: “‘And you? What are you lying-to here for? Asking for a torpedo?’ “He burst out cackling and called some others and they looked me over as though I were a queer beast. There was one who condescended to explain that submarines were for coast-defence and would never, never come down as far as Fano; that I really mustn’t get the wind up me--one could sail _quite_ safely. Farther up, perhaps, it would be as well to keep one’s eyes open, but out to sea--what a joke! A bit thick that, to suggest I was afraid! I don’t know what I might have said to them, but the Admiral came: “‘Oh, you’re the skipper of the _Pamir_ going to Montenegro! You are luckier than I! But surely you aren’t afraid!’