“Preaching!” angrily said Bernander, helping himself to some hot tea.
I saw that he was very annoyed about something and wished to unburden himself.
“Well! tell me all about it! What is the matter?”
“It is all this cursed German coal,” he said, and lowering his voice and looking rounds—“You know, of course, that we had a fire in the bunkers?”
“Yes! I know; but surely, thank goodness, they put it out? Do you mean there’s another?”
“No! Not quite! Listen! There’s a vast difference between rapid-burning and slow-burning coal. Much more is consumed. Compared to good coal, 20 to 30 per cent.——”
“Shut up!” I interrupted. “Why, what’s up with you? Are you afraid you’ll run out? Up till now, surely, you have been burning our surplus! You ought to have in hand the full normal quantity.”
“Full or not, we shall have less than 1000 tons by morning.”
“But it’s 600 miles to Vladivostok! Where do you want to go?”
“Have you forgotten the Cesarevitch? On 10th August, when her funnels were shot away, she burnt 480 tons in the twenty-four hours! Well—we are burning more!”