There were fifteen occupants of the wardroom, all told. Some of the officers Gerald had met before, namely, White, the surgeon, and Christopher Weeks, the young lieutenant who had escorted him to the captain's quarters. Taken together the officers of the Olive Branch gave Tregarthen the impression that they were a genial, happy-go-lucky class. They spoke freely on general topics, but studiously avoided "shop," nor did they go into details concerning their past careers.
There was one exception, however.
The scientist, Taylor, who had charge of the laboratory and shell-filling room, was ever ready to let his tongue wag unrestrainedly in spite of the invariable snubbing he received from his messmates.
After dinner Gerald and Jack went on deck. Here strong arc lamps enabled the crew to continue their labours, for Captain Brookes was evidently in a hurry to get the work completed; he was here, there, and everywhere, testing circuits, examining the riveted plates, calling attention to this and that defect, and, in fact, an example of unflagging energy.
"What is this extraordinary hurry for, Mr. Sinclair?" asked Tregarthen of the navigating lieutenant, who had just been relieved on the bridge.
"Don't you know? Hasn't the captain told you the news? We've our first real business in hand. A wireless was received this afternoon that war is to be declared between two South American Republics within a few days. This is where we step in."
"How do they manage the wireless business, I should like to know," remarked Stockton, as the two friends gained the seclusion of their cabin.
"Really, I'm not surprised at anything in this ship," replied Gerald. "How is it going to end? The Olive Branch cannot keep the sea indefinitely. She must take in stores, have her hull coated in dry dock, and undergo a periodical refit. It all costs money, and where does the money come from? Who is this Captain Brookes? A millionaire—a fanatic—or what?"
"I suppose—— Hallo, who's there? Come in." A timid knock at the door had interrupted Jack Stockton's sentence.
A fresh-complexioned round-faced little man edged cautiously into the cabin, and carefully closed the door behind him. It was Taylor, the scientist.