into the Baron's chair and displayed that beastly annoying habit of
continually wriggling and creaking the chair, meanwhile shouting to
his companion at the top of his lungs, I lost all patience. It only
needed Baron Huraki's appearance and quiet request for the evacuation
of his deck chair, and the insolent stare and non-compliance of the
Russian, to make me chip in with:

"Damn it, sir! You don't own the whole world yet."

I went on in terse military German which eighty per cent. of all
Russian officers know and the trend of which is never misunderstood.
I pointed out that any further encroaching would be resented in a most
drastic and sudden manner. The usual farcical exchange of cards,
permitting all sorts of bluffs, does not impress a Russian, but the
imminent chance of blows from fists does. A pair of astonished
bulging eyes, a muttered apology and quietness reigned.

With a mild smile Baron Huraki dropped into his chair, but I did not
like the expression in his eyes. Knowing the prowess of the Baron as
an exponent of his national system of self-defense (I had seen him
harmlessly toss about the biggest sailor on the _Bayern_, the chief
butcher, who was as strong as an ox), I said:

"It's a wonder to me, Baron, that you didn't throw that boor half way
across the deck."

I shall never forget his answer.

"We of the Samurai never fight when there is nothing behind it. It is
not the time."