“You don’t say so!” said Edward Meadows, staring.
“I do, though. It’s a queer state of affairs, but I suppose they know their business. There’s the old ship.”
They had nearly crossed the narrow portion of the Bay that lies between Port Melbourne and Williamstown, and the docks were coming into view. Everywhere the wharves were crowded with shipping, mostly of a smaller character than the vessels they had seen; but towering above everything else, larger than even the Orient liner, lay a great ship. She had but one funnel, painted a vivid blue; it loomed vast above them, a mighty cylinder—large enough, if it lay on its side, to drive a coach-and-four through it.
“Whew-w! She’s a big one!” ejaculated the young soldier.
“Yes; there’s only one larger ship in the Australian trade,” Jim answered.
“Many passengers?”
“Hardly any, I believe. But she’s enormously valuable; she’s carrying a huge cargo—the richest, with the exception of gold, that ever left Australia. And it’s just what they want in England—frozen meat, wool, tallow, and things like that, and a huge consignment of food the Queensland people are sending to the troops at the Front. They say she’s worth a million and a half!”
“By Jove, what a prize she’d make!” said the soldier. “I should think the German cruisers will be keeping a pretty sharp look-out for her.”
“Yes—and I believe the Emden is particularly anxious to get a Blue Funnel ship before she goes under. The Perseus would make a pretty good scalp, wouldn’t she?”
The engineer shut off the motor, and the little launch came to rest beside a gangway under the lee of the Perseus—whose bulk, seen close above them, seemed like that of a mountain. A sailor ran down the steps to steady the launch and offer a helping hand as its passengers climbed out. In a moment Norah stood for the first time upon the deck of a ship.