But one morning--I think it was the 5th of January, when we had passed Buda and were moving through great sodden flats just sprinkled with snow--the captain took it into his head to get me to overhaul the barge loads.

Armed with a mighty type-written list, I made a tour of the barges, beginning with the hindmost.

There was a fine old stock of deadly weapons--mostly machine-guns and some field-pieces, and enough shells to blow up the Gallipoli peninsula.

All kinds of shell were there, from the big 14-inch crumps to rifle grenades and trench-mortars.

It made me fairly sick to see all these good things preparing for our own fellows, and I wondered whether I would not be doing my best service if I engineered a big explosion.