"Pipe General Quarters."
The shrill trills of the whistle brought the watch below surging on deck. Already by some mysterious means the news had spread along the lower deck. Taking into consideration the fact that the ship had been but newly commissioned, there was little fault to be found with the way in which the men responded to the call.
In the engine-room the staff had risen nobly to the Captain's request to "whack her up". Quickly speed was increased to twenty knots as the Portchester Castle hastened on her errand of succour to the harassed Portuguese merchantman.
"I shouldn't be surprised if we are too late," remarked Captain Staggles. "That wireless will most certainly be picked up by the Portuguese destroyer flotilla patrolling the Tagus. They'll be on the spot before us, I fancy."
Lieutenant Osborne did not reply. He had good cause to think otherwise, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Nevertheless he was glad when the skipper expressed his intention of "carrying on" in the direction of the pursued tramp.
With daybreak came the sound of distant intermittent gun-fire. For five minutes the cannonade was maintained, and then an ominous silence. In addition the hitherto constant wireless appeals for aid ceased abruptly.
"They've got her, I'm afraid," remarked Webb to his chum and brother officer as the twain searched the horizon with their binoculars.
"Not a sign of her," began Osborne.
"Sail ahead, sir," reported the masthead man, who from his point of vantage could command a far greater distance than the officers on the bridge.
"Where does she bear?" shouted Osborne.