It somewhat restored our confidence, shaken by the facile success of the monstrous crime, to know that they were to be convoyed a certain way, and that they had a gun on board. Nevertheless, they were not to escape menace.
“The evening we started,” he wrote, “I asked the steward if they had seen any submarines about. ‘No, sir,’ he admitted reluctantly. Then brightened up, anxious to oblige, ‘But we have seen a lot of luggage floating about--trunks and clothes, sir.’”
(It was obvious no passenger need give up hope; and, indeed, the letter posted at Gibraltar continues):--
“I have had no occasion to use your lifesaving waistcoat yet, though, as a matter of fact, we _had_ a small-sized adventure with a submarine. At dinner on Monday we felt that they had suddenly altered the ship’s course. It appears that a submarine was spotted about five hundred yards away. The captain slewed the vessel round to bring our one gun to bear on her. However, the smoke obscured our view, and the submarine must have seen our gun, as she disappeared.”
Then comes an anecdote, dreadfully characteristic of our happy-go-lucky English ways, a comedy that might have been--for this house, at least, God knows!--the direst tragedy.
“Next day,” he continues, “we had gun practice, but it turned out that none of the gun’s crew knew how to work her; and after fumbling for about two hours, a passenger came along and showed them how to manage her, and fired her off. We all cheered.”
The next stage on that lengthening journey that is to take him so unrealizably far away from us is Malta. The place laid its spell upon him, though at first he writes:
“From the ship both islands looked most unprepossessing: dry, arid, khaki-coloured lumps, full of khaki-coloured buildings. Once on shore one begins to love the place. The buildings, fortifications, and general spirit are most inspiring and grandiose. One expects to see some proud old Templar riding down the gay streets, looking neither to the right nor left. I had no time to do any of the right Cathedrals, where there are wonderful paintings by Michael Angelo, etc., nor the Grand Master’s Palace Armoury, with the knight’s armour, nor the Inquisitor’s Palace. I went off to look for wounded Worcesters from the Dardanelles. I had no time to see anything else as the hospital was a long way off.