What can one do, old man? Such things simply disarm one! When Fourgues heard that the poor devil had been knocking about the main lines of France for twenty-three days with twelve aeroplanes to look after he said we would take all we could. We found places for six, three forward and three aft. The cases are regular monuments, and when they dangle at the end of the cable you have to look out so as not to get your jaw stove in. And to make all that fast! The deck was just broad enough to take them, however, and we served lines over them and lashed them to starboard and port. They rose as high as the bridge. At this point our old friend the Army bloke paid us another visit and said that, as the _Pamir_ was ordered to take all twelve cases, we must load the remaining six in a second tier on top of the first. Then Fourgues fairly let rip. He produced cusses that I had never heard before and I assure you they were great! He said that his boat was as full as an egg; that it was not the custom to pile cargo higher than the masts; that he had to see to navigate; that he was not sure the six cases we had already wouldn’t pitch overboard with the first good blow, and that the other six might go by the air-route, perhaps, but certainly not on the _Pamir_. Thereupon he gave the order to sail and we skipped out, leaving the three blokes, the railway man, the Army officer, and the sailor, discussing each other’s characters on the quay. Fortunately we had no really bad weather from Marseilles to Milo--nothing but moderate rolling and pitching, just enough to get the wind up us about the stowage of our cargo. We could hear hollow sounds of boxes knocking around the hold and some of the stuff must be in a nice state. We didn’t open it up, but it will be lovely and we are the ones that will catch it! However, Fourgues will give as good as he gets, for he can’t stand being blamed when it’s somebody else’s fault. I don’t know what the aeroplanes in their cases will look like. As they were on the deck they swung about a good deal, and no matter how much we tightened the lines with which they were lashed, every time the boat rolled they shifted a little with a “Bang!” At Milo no one wanted to unload the cases we had taken from the wrong train because the Head of the military unit to whom they were consigned, who should have been there, had gone away several days before. We haven’t yet been able to ascertain his whereabouts. It’s the same old story over and over--enough to make one wild!