As we were going to bed the Montenegrin doctor came in.

“I am sent by the governor, monsieur,” said he.  “We do not consider it safe, this boat idea.  Austrian submarines are everywhere, and the governor would feel it as a personal responsibility if you were drowned.  We will provide carriages to Alessio and thence arrange horses—­only one day and a half on to Durazzo.  Thence Essad Pasha will give you his motor boat and you can easily get to Valona.”

Our men groaned at the thought of more journeying.  They were all thoroughly fed up with the road, though personally we rather liked the idea.  We had heard that Durazzo was very interesting, and would have liked to have met Essad, though we did not know just how his politics were trending.  We decided to see the Italian consul once more.

Next day we hunted up the mayor, Mahram Beg, a Turk, for he also could give us a “Besa” if necessary.  He was at last discovered, a little crumpled looking man in an office.  We were not allowed to interview him in private, but a Montenegrin was there and all conversation had to pass by him like through an imperfect telephone.  We gave the mayor a greeting from Colonel P——­and little else.  A very disappointing interview.

Jan went off to see the governor, who received him kindly.  He said that he would arrange everything, but that it was difficult for him with the Italian consul, as the Powers did not recognize the Montenegrin occupation.

“You see, monsieur, here I am the law, and yet the law does not recognize me.”

The Italian assured us that the Montenegrins were wrong, and that of course the boat would be escorted, and the danger reduced to its least possible amount.  Just after we had left him we heard two things which made us jump.

A body of English officers had landed at Medua, and ninety English refugees from Serbia were en route for Scutari.  Could we not catch the transport and at the same time leave room for the others?  Suma came in, and we consulted him.  He was doubtful if the horses could be got at Alessio for us.

“You see, it is Albania and not Montenegro,” he repeated.

We accordingly hunted up the doctor.  He promised us horses for the morrow.  The carriages had all gone to fetch the English officers.  We asked him about Alessio, and he assured us that the telephone message had been received saying that they were waiting.  We asked him several times until he grew angry and said—­

“Do you doubt my honour, then?”

Before we went to bed the hotel proprietor came to us.

“Do you pay or the Government?” asked he; and seemed very relieved when we told him that we paid.  The Montenegrins are neither loved nor trusted here.