"Smallways."

"I thought you were a bit of a fraud--even when I thought you
were Butteridge. You're jolly lucky the Prince took it calmly.
He's a pretty tidy blazer when he's roused. He wouldn't stick a
moment at pitching a chap of your sort overboard if he thought
fit. No!... They've shoved you on to me, but it's my cabin, you
know."

"I won't forget," said Bert.

Kurt left him, and when he came to look about him the first thing
he saw pasted on the padded wall was a reproduction, of the great
picture by Siegfried Schmalz of the War God, that terrible,
trampling figure with the viking helmet and the scarlet cloak,
wading through destruction, sword in hand, which had so strong a
resemblance to Karl Albert, the prince it was painted to please.



CHAPTER V
THE BATTLE OF THE NORTH ATLANTIC

1

The Prince Karl Albert had made a profound impression upon Bert.
He was quite the most terrifying person Bert had ever
encountered. He filled the Smallways soul with passionate
dread and antipathy. For a long time Bert sat alone in Kurt's