“It’s our old friend, the Berwick,” he said. “She’s outside waiting for us, but this time, glory be, we’re flying Old Glory.”
CHAPTER X.
UNDER OLD GLORY.
Sandy Hook lay behind a dim blue line on the horizon, and the long Atlantic heave was beginning to swing the St. Mark in a manner disconcerting to some of the passengers, before they came in sight of the cruiser that had led the Kronprinzessin such a harried chase.
“Looks familiar, doesn’t she?” commented Jack, as they slowed down and the Berwick steamed up alongside, about five hundred yards off.
“If it hadn’t been for that lucky fog, she’d have looked more familiar yet,” declared Bill. “Look, they’re lowering a boat.”
From the cruiser’s side a small boat, crowded with uniformed sailors, and in the stern sheets of which sat a smart junior officer, dropped and, propelled by long, even strokes of the oars which rose and fell in perfect unison, was presently coming toward the liner. The St. Mark’s accommodation ladder was lowered, and in a few minutes the young British officer was aboard.
Every passenger was lined up in the saloon and compelled to answer questions as to their nationality, etc. All passed satisfactorily. Then came the turn of the second cabin and the steerage. From the second cabin, two admitted German reservists were taken as prisoners of war and in the steerage six more were found. They took their apprehensions stoically, although they knew that they would probably be confined at Halifax or Bermuda till the close of hostilities.
Jack and Bill Raynor watched these scenes with interest.
“I suppose it will be months, maybe years, before some of those poor fellows see their homes again,” said Bill.