If you received safely three or four post-cards that I have sent you during the last three months, you may well have asked yourself where the _Pamir_ was going to stop. Cabes, Brest, Trondhjem--they are not precisely in the same latitude! And now we are even higher up, but there is nothing beyond this and you needn’t fear that we shall try to rediscover the North Pole. As a matter of fact all those places fit in quite well, as you will learn. We have seen interesting things; it’s not too warm in summer here, and the old _Pamir_ and all of us are pleased with our little saunter. At Malta, Fourgues came back with the order to leave immediately for Sfax in Tunis. He wanted to know why, but was told to obey orders without asking questions. So we got up steam and ran out of the barrage by night. The English know how to protect their harbours and ports. Wherever there are warships or loaded merchant vessels at anchor, they don’t make them waste time watching for submarines. Nets, buoys, an effective screen of trawlers on guard--and the people inside can sleep soundly. I wouldn’t say that all this is sufficient to drive off submarines, but it does save unnecessary watches. In any case, it’s better to guard against under-sea boats, acknowledging their existence, than to say publicly that they do not exist and actually to keep all sailors on the lookout all the time. But that’s only my view. The _Pamir_ set out for Sfax. In the morning we passed two French warships which must have been coming from Bizerta. Fourgues noticed that they were steaming straight ahead on their course and said that was a good way to be torpedoed. I reminded him that the Navy doesn’t believe in submarines, so it isn’t worth their while to zigzag and retard the run. Then he asked me why, if they don’t believe in them, they keep everybody on the lookout with all guns loaded and all the rest of it; that they ought to choose, and if there are any, not to say that there aren’t and annoy all sea-going folk. I pass the problem on to you. At Sfax we found a battalion of Algerian riflemen, Turcos, and other little niggers, which we were to transport to the south of Tunis with their horses and all their outfit. It seems that since the Italians entered the war, things haven’t gone very well in Tripoli. The Touaregs fell on them and pushed them back towards Tunis, and so France is forming an Expeditionary Corps down there in the south to teach the Arabs what’s what. That makes one more place where transports are needed. They take whatever boats pass within reach, so the _Pamir_ was called from Malta. At first they made us carry whatever we found wherever we were, though we never found anything where they sent us. But this time we left and arrived with a purpose.