The _Pamir_ is waiting at Mudros. All the empty vessels are taken to hasten the evacuation. We are as full as an oyster, and we are left here because there’s no room at Salonica. Where the deuce shall we unload our different sorts of merchandise, our aeroplanes, and our victuals? I don’t know any more than you! But one thing I do know--nothing of all we have brought from Marseilles will ever reach its destination! Oh, it will be used somewhere or other, but everything in this country is upside down and all the _Pamir_ can do is to empty her hold on to the wharf she’s ordered to without troubling about what becomes of it. All this is not funny, old man! And how long are we going to stay here? Fourgues raises Hell, but that doesn’t help matters. The other ships come and go, but the _Pamir_ receives no orders. I hope she will go to Salonica because I want a squint at what is going on there, but ever since the beginning of the war nothing we have expected has happened, so I don’t care much what it is as long as it can’t be La Rochelle. So long, old man. I got your last from Bizerta when the _Auvergne_ was in dry-dock. You gave me a good bit of Navy gossip and I should like to comment on it, but a boat is about to leave for Malta and I want to get this letter off. All I can say is that it seems to me not much better on the warships than on hookers like the _Pamir_. May God grant that on land, in politics, and the diplomatic service they are cleverer than our Naval chiefs! My sole consolation is that the Germans seem to be more fat-headed than we; else, with their preparation and our mistakes at the beginning, they would have mopped us up long since. Not having done so, they won’t be able to. With this consoling thought I wish you a happy New Year and hope that we shall meet in 1916. _Je t’embrasse._ PART THREE ALGIERS, _January 30, 1916_. DEAR OLD MAN,