The utmost excitement played over the crew of the dock when they
identified the former crew of the _Vulcan_. The air was full of
excited questions and tired answers, but presently the word got out. It
was "War." The news passed from mouth to mouth and grew in
portentousness. War! Nations were at war! These men had escaped from a
German warship!
It was unbelievable. It was stunning. Presently Caradoc shouted out in
the darkness for Malone, Mate Malone. The cockney answered.
"Put your firemen at the furnace! Set your engineers to work on the
engines. We must have steam up and be away in an hour!"
The two crews fell into silence, and Malone ordered his men below. Some
of the dock's crew hurried off with the others to cut down coal in the
bunkers. Another gang fell to work; pulling in the sea anchor. But over
all their various activities hovered the vast consternation of war.
Caradoc had climbed to the bridge of the _Vulcan_ and stood staring
silently at the bulk of the mother ship that was barely discernible
through the night. The searchlight had been switched off. Neither ship
showed a signal. From below came the muffled sounds of men working at
the furnace, and in five or ten minutes a film of smoke trickled out of
the _Vulcan's_ great funnel.
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