“Oh, the Vulcan has had a hole stove in her and I signalled——”
“Yes, I know all that, of course, but what’s wrong with us?”
“With us?” echoed the captain blankly.
“Yes, with the Adamant? What has been amiss for the last two or three days? I’m not a talker, nor am I afraid any more than you are, but I want to know.”
“Certainly,” said the captain. “Please shut the door, Sir John.”
Meanwhile there was a lively row on board the Vulcan. In the saloon Capt. Flint was standing at bay with his knuckles on the table.
“Now what the devil’s the meaning of all this?” cried Adam K. Vincent, member of Congress.
A crowd of frightened women were standing around, many on the verge of hysterics. Children clung, with pale faces, to their mother’s skirts, fearing they knew not what. Men were grouped with anxious faces, and the bluff old captain fronted them all.
“The meaning of all what, sir?”