“There’s no danger,” he said, so that every one could hear. “They put those shells across our bows to stop us using the wireless—but Grey got a certain amount away first. Then they signalled that they’d sink us if we sent any more; so naturally, we didn’t.”
“What happens now?”
“Their orders are, to follow them at full speed. I don’t know what they mean to do—but the Captain says that every one is to prepare to leave the ship. It may or may not be a case of taking to the boats; they are being got ready now. Not much luggage can be taken, but every one must bring all available rugs and wraps; the nights are cold. Be ready to obey the boat-drill signal.”
Mr. Linton’s party had prepared for such emergency early in the voyage; it was only a few minutes before they were ready, suit-cases locked and wraps rolled up. Jim came to carry up Norah’s belongings to the deck. She cast a wistful look round the cabin. It had grown very homelike, and the familiar photographs of Billabong and Bosun and her school chums looked curiously out of place and forlorn amidst this sudden realisation of war. She shut the door upon them with a little sigh.
On deck everything was as usual, save that sailors were working busily at the boats, provisioning them, and getting them in readiness to swing out from the davits. The horizon was empty of ships; only ahead of them steamed the grey German warship, her smoke making dark plumes across the sky. The Perseus followed meekly. Norah could see the captain on the bridge—and a great throb of pity for him surged up within her.
“He’s so responsible!” she said. “And he has such a lovely ship. It must be dreadful to think of losing her.”
She looked up and down the long lines of the deck; at the towering mass of the funnel overhead. It seemed incredible that so great a ship was presently to be sunk; as easily might one believe that any splendid cathedral could disappear suddenly into the ground. For weeks they had lived on the Perseus, until she had grown like a second home to them, as fixed and stable a thing as any hotel. Now she was doomed; they would fire shells or torpedoes at her, and she would suddenly vanish, never to be heard of again. The blue sea would ripple gaily over the place where she lay—the sea on which she had ridden in splendour. It was too horrible to believe.
Norah looked up at the bridge again, and saw Captain Garth’s set face. He was gazing downwards at his ship. When his eyes met hers he smiled and waved his hand slightly, and though Norah greatly despised tears, she felt a hot lump in her throat and turned away to the rail, blinking very hard. If it were dreadful for her to think of the great “crack” liner going down, what must it be for the man whose pride and responsibility she was?
They stood in a little knot on the deck, watching. Both ships were going at full speed; but presently a line of flags fluttered out on the German ship, they heard the sound of the engine-room telegraph ringing from the bridge, and the throbbing of the machinery of the Perseus stopped suddenly. The German turned, steaming down upon them. A little way off, the warship hove to and lowered a boat, containing two officers as well as the crew. The Perseus swung out a gangway to meet it.
The boat shot across the narrow strip of sea intervening between the two vessels. The crew were stolid men, with heavy faces; they paid no attention to the jeers or the questions of the crew of the Perseus as they rocked on the lazy swell beside her. Their officers sprang quickly up the gangway, keen-looking men, very trim and alert. They cast a quick glance over the passengers, and disappeared up the bridge ladder.