HIS BRITANNIC MAJESTY'S SERVICE


"There was a mysterious affair last night, signore."

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "Anything that interests us?"

"Yes, signore," replied the tall, thin Italian Consular-clerk, speaking
with a strong accent. "An English steam yacht ran aground on the Meloria
about ten miles out, and was discovered by a fishing-boat who brought
the news to harbor. The Admiral sent out two torpedo-boats, which
managed after a lot of difficulty to bring in the yacht safely, but the
Captain of the Port has a suspicion that the crew were trying to make
away with the vessel."

"To lose her, you mean?"

The faithful Francesco, whose English had mostly been acquired from
sea-faring men, and was not the choicest vocabulary, nodded, and, true
Tuscan that he was, placed his finger upon his closed lips, indicative
of silence.

"Sounds curious," I remarked. "Since the Consul went away on leave
things seem to have been humming--two stabbing affrays, eight drunken
seamen locked up, a mutiny on a tramp steamer, and now a yacht being
cast away--a fairly decent list! And yet some stay-at-home people
complain that British consuls are only paid to be ornamental! They
should spend a week here, at Leghorn, and they'd soon alter their
opinion."