Two Frenchmen had been in San Giovanni for ten days, and their anxiety
to go was up to fever point. They took it in turns to stand "pour
observer," wrapped up to their noses, in a doorway, watching the
_Benedetto_ in case she should give them the slip. We called them
Tweedledum and Tweedledee.
One night somebody rushed up to their room. Booted, they jumped out of
bed, and ran about overhead. We thirteen scrambled up and intercepted
them between the stairs and the door. "Pour observer, steam-funnel,"
they shouted, and disappeared into the night, followed by their valet
with two hold-alls. They soon came back, very cold, and announced that
steam had been seen issuing from the _Benedetto's_ funnel. They had
rushed to it in an open boat, and had learnt that the _Benedetto_ was
ordered to be in readiness. She fumed quietly for three days, and then
was commandeered by the Serbian Government.
One day we saw a French aeroplane, an old friend of ours. Immediately
every one working in the port tore up hill, men jumped off the big boats
into little ones and rowed like a cinematograph turned double speed.
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