Nothing much happened on board in the Atlantic, except for a little matter of timepieces, not really worth recording. But I'll tell it out of regard for the overall veracity of my story.
   You know of course that in the open sea, when no shores are visible, the ship's navigator determines her position and lays the ship's course with the help of celestial bodies and a chronometer. The celestial bodies are the Sun, the Moon, the planets and the stars. They have been provided by Nature itself, so to speak. The chronometer, now, is a different proposition, the fruit of the efforts of many generations of men. Obviously, its purpose is to measure time.
   Measuring time is a tricky business. In the West, England for one, they are still arguing whether time actually exists. Some hold that it is an abstract category, a phantom, as it were. And if it does not exist, how can you measure it? Well, my opinion is that if people find time for such pointless arguments it means that it exists all right, and they have too much of it. As for measuring it, it is indeed a difficult task, and it took people a lot of time to perfect their timepieces.
   All kinds of clocks were used, beginning with sun dials. Then they invented the sand-glass, followed by wall clocks, alarm-clocks and pocket watches. They don't use alarm-clocks in navigation these days thinking them not exact enough. But in my opinion any clock is better than no clock.
   My namesake Christopher Columbus did not have any clock at all-and still managed to discover America. Wall clocks, I agree, are not suitable for a ship.
   People have to attach all kinds of weights to their chains to induce them to go -horse-shoes, bricks, flatirons, and such like. Imagine such a clock on board ship during a storm. It would be dangerous to come near it. As for alarm-clocks, well, they're not bad at all.
   But still, it's not done, so while getting ready for my voyage I bought, among other useful things, an excellent chronometer.
   Well, so I bought it and put it in my desk. I had no need for it as long as we were sailing in sight of shores. Now that we were in open ocean, I had to make a reckoning. So I went down to my cabin, got out the chronometer and discovered that the confounded thing had gone completely haywire. It was showing the oddest time imaginable. When the sun was rising it showed midday and when the sun was overhead it showed six in the evening. I tapped it and rapped it and shook it, but nothing helped.
   Well, we were certainly in a quandary. We were sailing briskly along but did not know where. One can lose one's bearings completely in this manner.
   Salvation arrived from quite an unexpected quarter.
   While in England we took on a lot of provisions: canned goods, cereals and some live animals. Among the latter there was a box of chickens from Greenwich. We had eaten nearly all of them by then and only two roosters remained in the box - one white and the other black.
   As I was standing on deck, sextant in my hand, wondering how I was going to establish our position, both my roosters cried in a duet: "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"
   I made an observation that very second, and the rest was easy as pie. Both roosters were from Greenwich, and that meant it was sunrise in Greenwich then. I knew time exactly enough.
   Still, I made a check-up. At night I went on deck with the sextant again and exactly at midnight both roosters sang out in a duet: "Cock-a-Doodle-doo!"
   I could have rested content with these "timepieces" and used them to the end of the trip, but then I discovered a better method of determining time. It's a truly wonderful method, and if I have time I may yet write a thesis on the subject and thus enrich science.
   In short, my method consists of the following: you take a clock-any kind, from a tower clock to a children's toy watch - anything will do as long as it has a face and two hands.
   It is not even necessary that the hands should move; in fact it is much preferable that they shouldn't. Let them stay in one place. Let us say the hands show, like my chronometer, twelve o'clock.
   Excellent! Of course one cannot use such a chronometer during the greater part of the day, but that is a luxury after all. We don't want to make reckonings a dozen times a day. Two is quite enough. And twice a day - at midday and at midnight, your chronometer shows exact time.
   Just as long as you don't miss the right moment-but that depends on the observer's competence. In this way I devised a method of using my chronometer. Just in time, too, for our provisions were running short, we were heartily sick of tinned meat and my crew were casting longing looks in the direction of the two roosters.
   But we just could not make up our minds which of them to sacrifice first. They were so attached to each other that we had not the heart to deprive one of the other's company.
   I pondered the problem for a while and decided to set up a commission of ways and means, consisting of Fooks and myself. We discussed the problem thoroughly, but did not find a solution. Then we coopted Lom on the commission and held another session. Lom, unexpectedly, proved invaluable, manifesting a clarity of mind and resourcefulness that at once presented the matter in its true perspective. — Without a moment's hesitation he said:
   "Kill the black one."
   "But the white one will pine," we said.
   "Let him," Lom declared. "It's no concern of ours. We'll eat him too soon."
   Well, I could not but agree. And the rooster, let me tell you, proved delicious-fat and tender. We picked the bones clean as clean. The same was true of the white one too, which we ate a few days later.
   In this manner we rounded Bretagne and entered the Bay of Biscay.
   And this- bay, as you're probably aware, is famous for its storms.
   I was quite apprehensive, aware of its reputation and having the herrings to look after. But that time I was lucky.
   The sea was as smooth as a mirror. Further south, too, the weather was propitious, and it favoured us all the way to Gibraltar. There we got into trouble. As we sailed at a leisurely pace, driving the herrings along and admiring the view of tall mountains, they asked us, from the British fortress, as the custom is: "What ship?"
   Well, I answered, all unsuspecting: "The yacht Rage, captain Wrungel."
   On we went, and suddenly, on the very threshold of the Mediterranean, there was a blast and a whistle and I looked up to see a huge hole in our sail. Cannon were firing, water sprouting higher than our mast, and from the right a fleet of warships was racing to intercept us. Well, the situation was clear enough - we were attacked by pirates of unknown nationality.
   There is no call to smile, young man. You imagine pirates belong to old sea tales. Nothing of the kind. The breed is quite numerous today too. Only in times past pirates flew their Jolly Roger when attacking a ship, while today pirate flags stay buried deep on the bottom of trunks, but piratical ways are widely practised. Don't you read the papers, young man? One keeps hearing about pirates hijacking a plane, or taking hostages and demanding a ransom. Well, at the time I'm describing, they hadn't yet got to planes, but did plenty of mischief on high seas.
   Well, I certainly was in no position to give battle. When attacked by superior forces, the sea tactics advises hasty retreat.
   But I could not retreat either. There was hardly any wind, and there was a hole in the sail besides.
   Well, there was just one thing left - to employ a stratagem.
   "Light up, chaps!" I commanded to my crew and got out my tobacco pouch.
   Actually, my crew were one hundred per cent non-smokers, but they dared not disobey an order in a combat situation, so they made up fat cigarettes and began to emit smoke.
   I pulled on my pipe, too, and in three minutes time the smoke enveloped the boat completely and hid it from the enemy.
   Smart work, wasn't it? And you haven't heard all either.
   Very well, we were hidden. But the smoke-screen would soon be dispersed by the wind. So, after a moment's thought I gave another command:
   "Lower the sails, clear the deck, take cover in the living quarters!"
   Lom and Fooks battened down the hatches, took refuge in the cabin and hastily filled in the cracks, while I gathered all the heavy objects on board and hoisted the bundle onto the mast. The centre of gravity shifted upwards, the vessel lost its stability, listed to port and the next moment the Rage rolled over.
   I was thrown into water, naturally, but I climbed out and lay flat on the stern awaiting developments. Soon the smoke-screen drifted away and the pirate fleet opened to view a mere hundred fathoms away. The decisive moment had come. Well, I thought, this is it. I placed my pipe upright over the keel and watched. Suddenly I saw them semaphoring on the flagship:
   "Enemy ship sunk by our accurate fire. Order to retreat as new-type submarines sighted in the area. Admiral Don Canallie."