CHAPTER III.
THE DECLARATION OF WAR.
Just before eight bells (4 a.m.) Terence Aubyn was called to prepare for his spell of duty on the bridge. Hastily dressing and donning his pilot-coat—for in spite of being within a few degrees of the line the air was cold compared with the temperature during the day—the fourth officer drank a cup of coffee and hurried on deck.
Exchanging a few words with the officer he was relieving Terence began to pace the bridge. On this occasion there was little to do, since the "Saraband" was not making way. Men were on the watch on the fo'c'sle, and hands were stationed in the crow's-nest in order to report the possible approach of other vessels. The apprentices on duty—termed, by courtesy, midshipmen—made their stereotyped reports, the quartermasters went the rounds and announced that all was correct on and 'tween decks. Not being actually under way the ship did not display her customary red and green navigation lamps. The white light on the forestay was the only one visible. Even the chart-room window had been screened, in order to avoid dazzling the eyes of the officer of the watch.
Down below the passengers were sleeping more or less soundly in their bunks. Most of the crew were also asleep in the forepeak. From the depths of the engine-room came the muffled, barely audible sounds of men still hard at work, under the tireless and energetic supervision of Chief Engineer McBride.
Terence had barely been on duty for ten minutes when Wilcox, the junior wireless operator, mounted the bridge ladder.
"Something rather important," he drawled. "Guess Captain Ramshaw ought to be informed."
He handed Aubyn a slip of paper, and without waiting further backed slowly down the ladder.
"Quartermaster!" exclaimed Terence.
"Sir?"
"Stand by, will you? I am going into the charthouse."
The man saluted. Aubyn entered the screened compartment and shut the door. Here by the aid of the electric light he was able to read the momentous message at which Wilcox had hinted.
"That fellow ought to have been an undertaker's mute!" he ejaculated under his breath. "Fancy hardly turning a hair over a thing like this."
For the wireless message was one that had stirred the British Empire, nay, the whole of the civilized world:—
"Great Britain has declared war on Germany." Aubyn's heart gave a bound. He realized that the chance of a lifetime was in front of him. In the titanic struggle that seemed bound to take place on the High Seas every officer and man of the Royal Naval Reserve would be called upon to assist their comrades of the Royal Navy. The Reserve would be put upon its mettle; it had a high duty to perform. It had to vindicate its existence and prove to captious critics that it was a fighting force that carried weight. It had to carry out its work as one of the triple barbs of Britannia's trident.
The news was far too important to entrust to a messenger. Again telling the quartermaster to stand by, and giving a comprehensive glance over the expanse of sea to make sure that there were no vessels' navigation lights visible, Aubyn hastened towards the captain's cabin.
As he passed the wireless-room he pushed open the door. Both operators were on duty. Wilcox was vainly endeavouring to "call up" a station; Grant was "standing by."
"You haven't mentioned the news?" asked the fourth officer.
Grant shook his head.
"We're getting out the notices for distribution," he said.
"Better not," declared Aubyn authoritatively. "Keep the news dark until Captain Ramshaw decides what is to be done."
At the door of the captain's cabin Terence paused, then knocked. Under ordinary circumstances the panelled door was tapped discreetly, but Aubyn gave a decisive double knock.
"Come in!" exclaimed a very tired voice.
Captain Ramshaw was in his bunk. At the first sound he had switched on a light.
"Well, Mr. Aubyn?"
Terence did not say a word in reply. He handed his chief the paper bearing the momentous news.
"I am not surprised," was Captain Ramshaw's comment. Already he was out of his bunk and dressing with the swift, deft manner of men who are apt to be roused from sleep to face danger at any moment of the night. "You may return to the bridge."
Terence flushed slightly. He knew that he had committed a breach of discipline in leaving his post during his watch.
"I would respectfully suggest, sir," he began, "that this news be kept back from the passengers."
"For why, Mr. Aubyn?"
"There are Germans on board."
"Bless my soul, what if there are? Surely you don't expect me to put non-combatants under arrest?"
"I have good reason to believe, sir, that some of them are responsible for the breakdown of the engines.
"When did you first have suspicions?"
"Last night, sir."
"Then why was I not instantly informed?"
"That I can explain, sir."
"Carry on, Mr. Aubyn," rejoined Captain Ramshaw quietly.
As briefly as possible Terence related the circumstances under which he and Raeburn waited for an expected secret interview between the German passenger and Stone, the greaser; how, in the absence of conclusive evidence, the two young officers had decided to keep the result of their investigations to themselves until further developments justified their suspicions.
"I suppose you two were out for kudos?" remarked Captain Ramshaw grimly.
"Oh, no, sir," Aubyn hastened to explain. "We were hoping to witness the meeting between Stone and the German passenger to-night. Then there might be enough evidence to justify an accusation. But the declaration of war has altered matters, sir."
"It has," agreed the "old man." "I have my orders in the event of hostilities. I did not think they would ever be put into force. The Admiralty instructions are that if homeward bound, or within forty-eight hours' steaming of a British port, the ship must make for home waters at full speed. And at present she's as helpless as a log," he added mirthlessly.
Captain Ramshaw had now finished dressing. With his hands behind his back he paced the cabin floor deep in thought.
"Very good, Mr. Aubyn," he continued, after a lengthy pause, "I'll take steps to prevent the news getting amongst the passengers. You and Mr. Raeburn can carry on with your investigations, but I would advise you to have a couple of reliable hands within hail. You can go."
Terence saluted and withdrew. Left to himself the skipper rapidly formulated his plans. He was in an awkward position. The "Saraband" was temporarily crippled, not by accident but by design. The time by which she would be able to get under way was indefinite. There was a frequent and apparently deliberate "jamming" of the wireless. He knew that there was a German liner in the vicinity. He also knew something that many Englishmen derided: that this liner, like scores of others, was ready to be converted at a few hours' notice into a commerce destroyer.
The wireless message had said that Great Britain had declared war. His keen insight told him that the declaration had been forced upon her. Germany had been preparing more or less secretly for years, and unless he was greatly mistaken she had forestalled the momentous time-limit.
Yes, Aubyn was right. It was not a private or personal reason that was responsible for the outrage to the machinery. There were German agents on board, who had already been given to understand that war would be declared before the "Saraband" reached Southampton. Crippled, she would be an easy and valuable prize to the first hostile armed merchantman that she fell in with.
Presently he left his cabin and ascended the bridge. His first act was to ring for Lymore, the first officer.
"What do you think of this, Lymore?" he asked.
The first officer took the paper and was about to make off to the charthouse when Captain Ramshaw stopped him.
"It's war with Germany," he said.
Lymore set his jaw tightly. He was a middle-aged man, and realized more forcibly than did Aubyn the possibilities of a conflict with the second naval power of the world.
"If it's not over in a week, sir," he remarked, "it will be a long drawn-out business. Either the Germans will attempt a surprise raid on our fleet or else they'll sit tight and carry on a sniping warfare with submarines and mines."
"Think so?" asked the "old man." "Mines aren't much use if you don't hold command of the sea. They can only be used to defend their own harbours."
"They'll be dumping them overboard in shoals, sir.
"What, adrift? Remember Germany is a highly civilized country, bound by the laws of the Geneva Convention and the Hague Conference."
"Let's hope she will respect those laws, sir. Personally, I don't think she will."
"Well, Mr. Lymore, it's no use talking. We must act. I propose to keep the information from the passengers, but to take officers and crew into my confidence. Will you pass the word to muster both watches for'ard? Instruct the bos'un that the men make no unnecessary noise. We don't want to alarm or excite the passengers."
Ten minutes later the officers, deckhands, and engine-room staff were mustered abaft the foremast. Those who were keeping "watch below" were not unreasonably curious to know why they were turned out early in the morning, before it was yet light. Every available member of the crew, including firemen and greasers who could be spared from the boiler and engine-rooms, the large staff of stewards and cooks formed up till the space between the fo'c'sle and the for'ard bulkhead of the promenade and boat decks was a seething mass of humanity. The men conversed in whispers, striving to solve the mystery of being mustered at such an unearthly hour, but when Captain Ramshaw stepped upon a hatch cover and held up his hand a hush fell upon the representative throng of the British Mercantile Marine.
The sole means of illumination was a hurricane lamp held by one of the messenger boys. The feeble rays fell upon the captain's face. It was stern and resolute.
"My men!" he exclaimed, speaking slowly and deliberately. He did not roar, after the manner of the old sea-dogs, but his voice carried with perfect distinctness. "My men, I have great news. But first let me impress upon you the extreme urgency for silence and secrecy. The matter can be discussed amongst yourselves, but should the news travel beyond you the safety of the old 'Saraband' is gravely imperilled.
"War was declared between Great Britain and Germany at eleven o'clock last night. That is all I know, being the news received by wireless. My duty is to get the ship back to port as quickly as possible, and hand her over to the Admiralty for whatever purpose they think fit.
"Meanwhile, an accident to the engine has left us helpless. It is proposed to rectify the damage with the utmost dispatch. German commerce destroyers are, in all probability, lying in wait on the recognized trade routes. We can only hope that there are also British cruisers to foil their little game.
"In spite of our adverse circumstances I know I can rely upon every man jack of you to do his duty cheerfully and manfully, and to help to keep the old flag flying. Now, dismiss."
Before daybreak the "Saraband" was ready as far as possible for eventualities. Ammunition was served up for the two 4.7 in. guns. The vital part of the bridge was protected by plates of boiler iron backed with bags of flour. Hoses were coupled up, water poured over boats hanging in the davits, in case of fire caused by the explosion of a hostile shell.
Below, Chief Engineer McBride and his staff were still striving their utmost to bring the engines up to their customary state of efficiency.