“No. He is a prisoner.”
“So?” said the German, his eye lighting with interest. “You will have him brought here.” He talked to his companion in their own language while the captain gave the necessary orders.
There was a little buzz among the passengers. Many of them had not heard of Mr. Smith; those who had done so had acquired a vague idea that he had left the ship at Durban. Now, as he came up the deck between two stewards, every one craned forward to see him. He was pale and rather thin, and the glance he cast upon Jim and Wally was scarcely one of affection. Then he broke into a wide smile at the sight of the familiar uniform, and uttered a quick German greeting.
The two officers showed some astonishment, which was merged in sympathetic interest as Mr. Smith uttered floods of Teutonic eloquence. Once they glanced keenly at the two boys—and Jim felt a thrill of thankfulness that Norah’s part in the discovery of the spy had not been revealed to Mr. Smith, who had evidently devoted his leisure in his cabin to the solace of bearing malice. Finally the senior officer turned to Captain Garth.
“Herr Schmidt will return with us,” he said. “Later, we shall require as prisoners these two lads, the officer Dixon, and those of the passengers who are military officers. Meanwhile you will have boats and passengers ready, and prepare to leave the ship at daylight, on receipt of further signals. Until then you will follow us. You will show no lights whatever, and should you attempt to signal, we will sink you without further notice. We will now inspect the crew—the passengers are dismissed.”
David Linton stepped forward.
“You cannot mean to take my son and his friend prisoners, sir,” he said. “They are only boys.”
“Only boys!” said the German, curtly. “Boys of their age and physique are with the colours in our army to-day. But for their attack on Herr Schmidt——”
Mr. Smith shot a rapid sentence at his countrymen. The officer laughed unpleasantly.
“So?—going home to the army, are they? They will certainly be better out of the way, then. That will do, sir—you will only earn them increased severity.” And Mr. Linton, certain in his angry bewilderment of only one thing—that he had made matters worse—found himself dismissed, with a finality that forbade another word.