"Well spoken, lads," he cried. "Though we've got no guns of our own, we'll stick to the Flag to the last; and maybe they'll hear of it in England. And now, pay no heed to the shells, but all hands to the pumps."
The men obeyed with that business-like promptitude that is characteristic of the Anglo-Saxon race. They were not disposed to argue that, after all, life was possibly worth living, and there is no more terrible death than to be drowned in calm water when the sun is shining in the midst of an illimitable sea. It was enough for them that their captain had spoken words that moved them to the depths of their rugged hearts: they were resolved to die like men.
For half-an-hour they worked in a kind of frenzy at the pumps, striving to keep the stricken ship afloat. It seemed that their efforts were successful; for, though the "Harlech" had taken on a marked list to port, and her stern was lifted a good six feet in the water, she seemed to be still seaworthy and as yet showed no signs of settling down. The "Dresden" was now not much more than four miles in the wake of the fugitive ship, which did little more than crawl.
THE "HARLECH" HAD TAKEN A MARKED LIST TO PORT--NO ONE COULD LIVE UPON HER DECK.
At such a range shrapnel is at its worst and deadliest. Shell after shell burst upon the "Harlech," until the masts were splintered, the decks riddled, and the rigging cut and torn in a thousand places. The top of one of the funnels had been blown away; the glass windows of the chart-house had been driven in.
Presently the shell fire became so severe, and there had been so many casualties among the crew, that it became impossible to continue to work the pumps. No one could live upon the deck; and something in the nature of a stampede was made to the saloon, whither the wounded had been carried.
Jimmy, who had been working at the pumps, had been one of the last to leave. His courage had not passed unnoticed by Captain Crouch, who found himself at a loss to reconcile two facts: firstly, that Jimmy had displayed a supreme contempt for danger, and secondly, that the boy was presumed to be a German spy.
As a great shell struck the mainmast, and brought down a spar upon the deck to which was attached the tattered shreds of what had once been the flag of England, the boy sought safety in the forecastle. There, one of the first things that met his eyes was a sea-chest, the lid of which had been broken open by the force of the concussion by which it had been hurled across the deck. Upon one of the broken pieces of this box were inscribed in black lettering the two words: RUDOLF STORK.
This was no time upon which to stand upon ceremony. There is no such thing as private property in time of war--as, during the long months of this colossal combat, Europe has learnt to her cost. Jimmy Burke had suspicions of his own, which he had cause to know were well grounded. Chance had brought an opportunity to hand which he was not slow to take. In a second he was down on all fours, turning out the contents of Stork's sea-chest, which appeared to have been filled with nothing but documents and papers, the majority of which were in the handwriting of Rosencrantz, the tool of the Baron von Essling.