I had an explanation of this the day after, knocking around on shore with a little midshipman in the cipher department, who had some inside information. He told me that the place where the _Mer-Morte_ was sunk is just where the commands of two Admirals meet. So, you see, as there is some sort of a squabble between them, the patrol-boats of one don’t go into the sphere of action of the other, and vice versa. If a patrol-boat thinks there is something to chase and chases it into the other zone, both Admirals get after it and, so, of course, nobody goes outside his own zone any more. The Admirals have their boats where they can get at them and so good tramps are torpedoed. Well, Fourgues, who isn’t an engineer, but who knows what navigation means, made an awful row. He said that with a system of secret routes which the Germans learn in twenty-four hours, we might just as well give up, and that if they were determined at any price to have a particular route for cargo boats, they should at least indicate a different one for each. As the submarines can’t be everywhere at once, all that’s necessary is to have the cargo boats widely scattered, for having only one route for all of them is the way to get the greatest number sunk. They told him to hold his tongue, saying that as this particular secret route had been discovered, the Naval authorities would find a new one, and as it was the best method ascertained by competent persons, there was nothing for him to do but conform. Then Fourgues said that wireless could hurt no one, cost almost nothing to put in, and would at least permit those ships whose dynamos were not stopped by the first shot of shell or torpedo to call for help. They answered that all these questions were being considered, but it was not as simple as he seemed to think. After that, he asked to be given guns, one forward and one aft, so that if the _Pamir_ were attacked by submarine we could do more than say our prayers and add Amen. That was when they fairly jumped on him. My word! For they retorted that if he didn’t wish to go to sea any more, he had only to say so; for they had other things to do besides putting guns on old tubs like the _Pamir_ and that the authorities were giving these problems an attention which did not need to be solicited by captains of the Merchant Service. I wish you could have seen Fourgues’ face while they were rubbing it in. He went from white to brick-red. “It’s the same old story!” was what he said as we came out. “All the land-lubbers think we are afraid. As if I cared a blast about losing my life! But when the _Pamir_ goes down, it will make three thousand tons the less. And not by putting blank spaces in the Maritime columns of newspapers can they rebuild those three thousand tons!”