"True for you, Larry; I won't say another word about that. But it looks dismal, no two ways on't," and the first mate drew a mountainous sigh.
The prison pen into which they had been placed was an iron structure, reaching from floor to ceiling, and was not over ten feet square. It had a solid back and the remaining three sides were built up of stout iron bars, only a couple of inches apart. There was a door which was doubly locked, the key being held by a petty officer who could speak broken English and who rejoiced in the simple name of Rosenvischpoff. For short Luke nicknamed him Rosey and this name stuck to him.
"Doesn't look as if a fellow could break out of here very easily," said Larry, after an inspection of their prison. "This is a regular bank vault."
"Wouldn't do you any good to break out," returned Grandon. "As we are on the ocean, where would you go to?"
"We might hide until the vessel made a landing."
"Humph, and that would be in some Russian port, so you'd be just as bad off."
"Well, I'm not trying to escape just now. I want to get the lay of the land first, and try to find out what they are going to do with us."
From Rosenvischpoff they learned that the Pocastra was one of a large number of steamers of various Russian lines which had been lately pressed into the service of the national navy. She had been rushed through at one of the Russian navy yards and provided with a battery of four small and four large guns, none, however, over eight inches. She carried a crew of one hundred and eighty men, drafted principally from other warships. She had an advertised speed of twenty knots an hour but rarely made over seventeen or eighteen. She was old and her engines were constantly in need of repair, much to the disgust of Captain Titorsky, her commander.
"Well, Rosey, how goes this war?" asked Luke, pleasantly, as the petty officer came around to give them something to eat.
"Big fight all der dime," answered Rosenvischpoff. "Russians kill all der Japs—sink all der Jap ships, yes!"