A Sub. of the R.N.R.: A Story of the Great War

  CHAPTER III.

  THE DECLARATION OF WAR.

  JUST before eight bells (4 a.m.) Terence Aubyn was called to preparefor his spell of duty on the bridge. Hastily dressing and donning hispilot-coat--for in spite of being within a few degrees of the linethe air was cold compared with the temperature during the day--thefourth officer drank a cup of coffee and hurried on deck.

  Exchanging a few words with the officer he was relieving Terencebegan to pace the bridge. On this occasion there was little to do,since the "Saraband" was not making way. Men were on the watch on thefo'c'sle, and hands were stationed in the crow's-nest in order toreport the possible approach of other vessels. The apprentices onduty--termed, by courtesy, midshipmen--made their stereotypedreports, the quartermasters went the rounds and announced that allwas correct on and 'tween decks. Not being actually under way theship did not display her customary red and green navigation lamps.The white light on the forestay was the only one visible. Even thechart-room window had been screened, in order to avoid dazzling theeyes of the officer of the watch.

  Down below the passengers were sleeping more or less soundly in theirbunks. Most of the crew were also asleep in the forepeak. From thedepths of the engine-room came the muffled, barely audible sounds ofmen still hard at work, under the tireless and energetic supervisionof Chief Engineer McBride.

  Terence had barely been on duty for ten minutes when Wilcox, thejunior wireless operator, mounted the bridge ladder.

  "Something rather important," he drawled. "Guess Captain Ramshawought to be informed."

  He handed Aubyn a slip of paper, and without waiting further backedslowly down the ladder.

  "Quartermaster!" exclaimed Terence.

  "Sir?"

  "Stand by, will you? I am going into the charthouse."

  The man saluted. Aubyn entered the screened compartment and shut thedoor. Here by the aid of the electric light he was able to read themomentous message at which Wilcox had hinted.

  "That fellow ought to have been an undertaker's mute!" he ejaculatedunder his breath. "Fancy hardly turning a hair over a thing likethis."

  For the wireless message was one that had stirred the British Empire,nay, the whole of the civilized world:--

  "Great Britain has declared war on Germany." Aubyn's heart gave abound. He realized that the chance of a lifetime was in front of him.In the titanic struggle that seemed bound to take place on the HighSeas every officer and man of the Royal Naval Reserve would be calledupon to assist their comrades of the Royal Navy. The Reserve would beput upon its mettle; it had a high duty to perform. It had tovindicate its existence and prove to captious critics that it was afighting force that carried weight. It had to carry out its work asone of the triple barbs of Britannia's trident.

  The news was far too important to entrust to a messenger. Againtelling the quartermaster to stand by, and giving a comprehensiveglance over the expanse of sea to make sure that there were novessels' navigation lights visible, Aubyn hastened towards thecaptain's cabin.

  As he passed the wireless-room he pushed open the door. Bothoperators were on duty. Wilcox was vainly endeavouring to "call up"a station; Grant was "standing by."

  "You haven't mentioned the news?" asked the fourth officer.

  Grant shook his head.

  "We're getting out the notices for distribution," he said.

  "Better not," declared Aubyn authoritatively. "Keep the news darkuntil Captain Ramshaw decides what is to be done."

  At the door of the captain's cabin Terence paused, then knocked.Under ordinary circumstances the panelled door was tapped discreetly,but Aubyn gave a decisive double knock.

  "Come in!" exclaimed a very tired voice.

  Captain Ramshaw was in his bunk. At the first sound he had switchedon a light.

  "Well, Mr. Aubyn?"

  Terence did not say a word in reply. He handed his chief the paperbearing the momentous news.

  "I am not surprised," was Captain Ramshaw's comment. Already he wasout of his bunk and dressing with the swift, deft manner of men whoare apt to be roused from sleep to face danger at any moment of thenight. "You may return to the bridge."

  Terence flushed slightly. He knew that he had committed a breach ofdiscipline in leaving his post during his watch.

  "I would respectfully suggest, sir," he began, "that this news bekept back from the passengers."

  "For why, Mr. Aubyn?"

  "There are Germans on board."

  "Bless my soul, what if there are? Surely you don't expect me to putnon-combatants under arrest?"

  "I have good reason to believe, sir, that some of them areresponsible for the breakdown of the engines.

  "When did you first have suspicions?"

  "Last night, sir."

  "Then why was I not instantly informed?"

  "That I can explain, sir."

  "Carry on, Mr. Aubyn," rejoined Captain Ramshaw quietly.

  As briefly as possible Terence related the circumstances under whichhe and Raeburn waited for an expected secret interview between theGerman passenger and Stone, the greaser; how, in the absence ofconclusive evidence, the two young officers had decided to keep theresult of their investigations to themselves until furtherdevelopments justified their suspicions.

  "I suppose you two were out for kudos?" remarked Captain Ramshawgrimly.

  "Oh, no, sir," Aubyn hastened to explain. "We were hoping to witnessthe meeting between Stone and the German passenger to-night. Thenthere might be enough evidence to justify an accusation. But thedeclaration of war has altered matters, sir."

  "It has," agreed the "old man." "I have my orders in the event ofhostilities. I did not think they would ever be put into force. TheAdmiralty instructions are that if homeward bound, or withinforty-eight hours' steaming of a British port, the ship must make forhome waters at full speed. And at present she's as helpless as alog," he added mirthlessly.

  Captain Ramshaw had now finished dressing. With his hands behind hisback he paced the cabin floor deep in thought.

  "Very good, Mr. Aubyn," he continued, after a lengthy pause, "I'lltake steps to prevent the news getting amongst the passengers. Youand Mr. Raeburn can carry on with your investigations, but I wouldadvise you to have a couple of reliable hands within hail. You cango."

  Terence saluted and withdrew. Left to himself the skipper rapidlyformulated his plans. He was in an awkward position. The "Saraband"was temporarily crippled, not by accident but by design. The time bywhich she would be able to get under way was indefinite. There was afrequent and apparently deliberate "jamming" of the wireless. Heknew that there was a German liner in the vicinity. He also knewsomething that many Englishmen derided: that this liner, like scoresof others, was ready to be converted at a few hours' notice into acommerce destroyer.

  The wireless message had said that Great Britain had declared war.His keen insight told him that the declaration had been forced uponher. Germany had been preparing more or less secretly for years, andunless he was greatly mistaken she had forestalled the momentoustime-limit.

  Yes, Aubyn was right. It was not a private or personal reason thatwas responsible for the outrage to the machinery. There were Germanagents on board, who had already been given to understand that warwould be declared before the "Saraband" reached Southampton.Crippled, she would be an easy and valuable prize to the firsthostile armed merchantman that she fell in with.

  Presently he left his cabin and ascended the bridge. His first actwas to ring for Lymore, the first officer.

  "What do you think of this, Lymore?" he asked.

  The first officer took the paper and was about to make off to thecharthouse when Captain Ramshaw stopped him.

  "It's war with Germany," he said.

  Lymore set his jaw tightly. He was a middle-aged man, and realizedmore forcibly than did Aubyn the possibilities of a conflict with thesecond naval power of the world.

  "If it's not over in a week, sir," he remarked, "it will be a longdrawn-out business. Either the Germans wil
l attempt a surprise raidon our fleet or else they'll sit tight and carry on a sniping warfarewith submarines and mines."

  "Think so?" asked the "old man." "Mines aren't much use if you don'thold command of the sea. They can only be used to defend their ownharbours."

  "They'll be dumping them overboard in shoals, sir.

  "What, adrift? Remember Germany is a highly civilized country, boundby the laws of the Geneva Convention and the Hague Conference."

  "Let's hope she will respect those laws, sir. Personally, I don'tthink she will."

  "Well, Mr. Lymore, it's no use talking. We must act. I propose tokeep the information from the passengers, but to take officers andcrew into my confidence. Will you pass the word to muster bothwatches for'ard? Instruct the bos'un that the men make no unnecessarynoise. We don't want to alarm or excite the passengers."

  Ten minutes later the officers, deckhands, and engine-room staff weremustered abaft the foremast. Those who were keeping "watch below"were not unreasonably curious to know why they were turned out earlyin the morning, before it was yet light. Every available member ofthe crew, including firemen and greasers who could be spared from theboiler and engine-rooms, the large staff of stewards and cooks formedup till the space between the fo'c'sle and the for'ard bulkhead ofthe promenade and boat decks was a seething mass of humanity. The menconversed in whispers, striving to solve the mystery of beingmustered at such an unearthly hour, but when Captain Ramshaw steppedupon a hatch cover and held up his hand a hush fell upon therepresentative throng of the British Mercantile Marine.

  The sole means of illumination was a hurricane lamp held by one ofthe messenger boys. The feeble rays fell upon the captain's face. Itwas stern and resolute.

  "My men!" he exclaimed, speaking slowly and deliberately. He did notroar, after the manner of the old sea-dogs, but his voice carriedwith perfect distinctness. "My men, I have great news. But first letme impress upon you the extreme urgency for silence and secrecy. Thematter can be discussed amongst yourselves, but should the newstravel beyond you the safety of the old 'Saraband' is gravelyimperilled.

  "War was declared between Great Britain and Germany at eleven o'clocklast night. That is all I know, being the news received by wireless.My duty is to get the ship back to port as quickly as possible, andhand her over to the Admiralty for whatever purpose they think fit.

  "Meanwhile, an accident to the engine has left us helpless. It isproposed to rectify the damage with the utmost dispatch. Germancommerce destroyers are, in all probability, lying in wait on therecognized trade routes. We can only hope that there are also Britishcruisers to foil their little game.

  "In spite of our adverse circumstances I know I can rely upon everyman jack of you to do his duty cheerfully and manfully, and to helpto keep the old flag flying. Now, dismiss."

  Before daybreak the "Saraband" was ready as far as possible foreventualities. Ammunition was served up for the two 4.7 in. guns. Thevital part of the bridge was protected by plates of boiler ironbacked with bags of flour. Hoses were coupled up, water poured overboats hanging in the davits, in case of fire caused by the explosionof a hostile shell.

  Below, Chief Engineer McBride and his staff were still striving theirutmost to bring the engines up to their customary state ofefficiency.