As the distance decreased the frequent flares could be observed from the bridge of the "Saraband." Anxiously the officers brought their night-glasses to bear upon the scene, as the dull patch of ruddy light rose higher and higher above the horizon.
"It's a four-masted vessel, sir!" exclaimed Terence. "The 'Corona' has only two. She looks to be about six thousand tons displacement."
"By Jove, you're, right Mr. Aubyn!" said the "old man." "Hard a-port, quartermaster. It's a ruse."
The steam steering-gear snorted as the helm flew hard over. Listing heavily outwards as she swung round the "Saraband" sought to avoid the danger. Alarmed by the sudden heel several of the passengers rushed from below.
"Reassure these people and send them to their cabins," ordered Captain Ramshaw, addressing his third officer. "Stand by——"
A vivid flash burst from the supposed disabled ship, and a shell, hurtling a cable's length astern on the now fleeing "Saraband" announced the stranger in her true colours. She was a German armed liner. Her keen lookout had detected the phosphorescent swirl from the bows of the British vessel as she swung to starboard.
The peremptory greeting was quickly followed by a wireless order:—
"Heave-to, or I'll sink you. Disconnect your wireless. Stand by to receive a boat."
To this demand Captain Ramshaw paid no attention. His true British blood was up. As long as he could run and fight he would keep the Old Flag flying.
With the whole of her fabric trembling under the vibrations of her powerful engines the "Saraband" began her bid for safety. The passengers, according to previous instructions, were ordered forward, while the stewards calmly went about distributing life-belts, at the same time assuring the more timorous of their charges that the procedure was merely a matter of precaution.