Gilbert had gone to bed about ten o’clock and was sleeping soundly, when of a sudden he awoke and sat bolt upright.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded, half aloud, thinking somebody had given him a shaking.
Scarcely had the words left his lips than he heard a distant explosion. Then he realized that it had been a similar sound which had aroused him.
“Something is wrong, that is certain,” he mused. “That sounded like a small powder magazine going up. Can it be that the war has really begun?”
While he was meditating another explosion rent the midnight air—this time louder than ever. Waiting no longer, he sprang out on the floor of his room, and donned his clothing as rapidly as possible. He heard many folks walking through the hotel, and footsteps could also be heard on the street, hurrying in various directions.
“What does this mean?” he asked, as soon as he was outside.
Nobody could tell, just then. But all said the explosions had come from the direction of the harbor, and hither, by common consent, the majority of the citizens flocked.
With the crowd went Gilbert, and from one of the wharves made out the searchlights of several Russian ships of war. Several shots had in the meanwhile been fired, but now all became as quiet as before.
“Those explosions meant something, that is certain,” said Gilbert to the hotel keeper.
“Vell, you haf been a soldier, you should know,” was the reply. “Maype dem ships vos fightin’, hey?”