Notwithstanding that Madden's head was under the hood², Caradoc sensed the fact that his friend had experienced some profound shock.  
"What's the matter? What's wrong?," he whispered from the outside.
 
"The mate—the mate of the Vulcan is in there!" gasped³ the American.
 
"Impossible!" Smith dived under the hood for himself.
 
Both heads just managed to squeeze in and the two men stared at Malone as if he were raised from the grave. The mate, however, was not funereal⁵. He seemed in the pink of condition, rather fatter than he had been on the dock, and he wore the pleased expression of a man well content with life.
 
As men will do when under a fixed⁶ stare, he presently glanced about and his eyes fell on the porthole. He looked at the dim port for several seconds intently, as if he could not quite make out their faces. Madden frowned, jerked his head up and down in a signal for Malone to approach.
 
The mate's little eyes went round at the request. He made a surprised gesture to his partner, scrambled⁷ to his feet and drew near. The whole cabin followed his motions.
 
"W'ot is it?" he whispered, still peering into the half-faces seen in the round hole.
 
"Madden and Smith."
 
"W'ot!"
 
"Yes."
 
"Great sharks! W'ot you lads doin' 'ere?"
 
"Came off the tug⁸—what is this?"
 
"W'ot is w'ot?"
 
"This ship we're on?"
 
It seemed as if Malone's little eyes would pop out of his head.
 
"W'ot—didn't they ketch you? You don't mean to say you—you jest straggled aboard?"
 
"Sure we did. Catch us? Who is there to catch us?"
 
Malone stared as if at two ghosts. "Say! Say!" he said hoarsely⁹. "You don't mean to say you ain't caught? You don't mean you run th' tug up 'ere an' boarded us! You don't mean——" He turned and whispered hoarsely inside: "It's th' lads off th' dock, though 'ow they got 'ere, an' w'ot they're—douse th' light, some o' you fellows."
 
A stifled¹¹ consternation¹² seized the card players, who crowded up to the port. A moment later all the lights were snapped out one after another.
 
"Tell us who there was to catch us," begged Leonard in a whisper.
 
"Who? W'y a German warship¹³, that's who! One caught us—an' Cap Cleghorne. Caught th' Cap away hup on th' Newfoundland Banks. Caught us first day——"
 
"Why should a German warship capture us!" demanded Leonard in a voice that threatened to rise in excitement.
 
"Quiet! Quiet! 'Eavens, lad! Don't you know? Ain't you 'eard? W'y it's war! War! War's broke out all over th' world! Everyw'ere! Ever'body!"
 
"War!" gasped Madden.
 
"War! What countries?" demanded Smith in an excited whisper.
 
"Hall countries! Hingland, France, Rooshia, Japan, that's one side, an' Germany and Austria on th' other."
 
"America in it?" demanded Madden.
 
"Right enough. Canada is sendin' troops and——"
 
"America! America! The United States of America!"
 
"Oh, no, she's the only nootral in th' whole world among th' big powers! But she'll be in soon enough!"
 
"What's this we're on?" inquired Caradoc. "It isn't a warship?"
 
"Kind o' warship. It's a mother ship for submarines—sort of floatin' dry dock for the little sneakers. She takes 'em aboard, over'auls 'em, gives 'em new stores and torpedoes¹⁴."
 
"England at war!" repeated Caradoc in a maze¹⁶. "I must get out of here!"
 
"That's th' word, war!" whispered Malone thickly. "They say Hingland's got a tight blockade aroun' th' German ports, so th' German cruisers bring their prizes here in th' Sargasso, load all the prize stores they capture out o' Hinglish bottoms into submarines an' run it into Germany under th' blockade. See? That's w'y this mother ship is 'ere. She fixes 'em up at this end for their run back."
 
Malone told all this in a hoarse¹⁰ breath.
 
"What do they do with their prisoners—keep them here?"
 
"No, ship 'em to German East Africa an' intern¹⁷ 'em. The Prince Eitel is due 'ere tomorrow to ship us."
 
So that was the explanation of all this mystery—War!
 
Madden fell silent with the sensation of a man who had lost his footing on earth. All his life he had been accustomed to peace. He thought of wars as small affairs that broke out now and then in South America or when the American Indians got hold of whiskey. But for Germany, France, England to fight, to hurl¹⁸ millions of men at each other! It was inconceivable!
 
The boy's brain felt numb¹⁹ as if crushed beneath an enormous horror. The world was at war!
 
Unless a person actually witness a murder, he cannot imagine the shock and dreadfulness of seeing one man shot down, writhe²⁰, gasp⁴, grow pale and cease struggling. To picture ten men murdered simply stuns²¹ the mind. An effort to realize hundreds, thousands, millions of men mangled²², wounded, bayoneted, crushed, blown to atoms by shells and mine—all this becomes vague, formless, a dim, dreadful picture that is as unreal as a dream, or history.
 
"What caused it?" asked Madden in a strained tone.
 
"I don't know," whispered the mate huskily. "They say it all started because an anarchist²³ killed an Austrian prince, but I don't believe it—that sounds too onreasonable for me."
 
"What has an Austrian prince to do with the rest of the nations?"
 
"I told you I don't believe it!" repeated the mate.
 
Madden felt impotent at the conclusion of the narrative²⁴. As long as he had conceived himself to be attacking a force of pirates and thieves, he was ready to board this great vessel²⁵, hunt for an engineer, or attempt any desperate scheme. But now when he learned that men were being murdered, goods stolen, ships scuttled²⁶, in accordance with a kind of wild law, called rules of war, he no longer knew what to do. The world was mad. Its people were murdering each other.
 
He finally said aloud to Caradoc: "I suppose we may as well hunt up the commanding officer, surrender ourselves and sail for Africa with the others."
 
"No," interrupted Smith, "don't do that." Then he called softly inside, "Malone!"
 
"Well, w'ot is it?" inquired the mate gruffly, for he persevered²⁷ in his dislike of Smith.
 
"Look sharp, Malone! I am an officer in the English navy—it is my right and duty to assume command of all English seamen²⁸ in case of war!"
 
A blank silence followed this remarkable²⁹ assumption of authority. The tone in which it was whispered prevented any doubts in the minds of his hearers.
 
"Do you understand?" inquired Caradoc in a sharp undertone.
 
"Yes, sir," replied the mate doggedly³⁰.
 
"How many men have you in there?"
 
"Eleven Hinglishmen, sir."
 
"I assume responsibility for those men. From now on accept orders from me!"
 
"Yes, sir."
 
"Pass the word around. I am going to hand in some German uniforms through this port. Let every man put on a uniform!"
 
"Very well, sir!" came the dismayed reply.
 
Caradoc withdrew his head from the hood. In the faint gleam from the outside incandescents, he fell to untying³² the strings³³ by which the suits were leashed to the lines. He handed eleven suits to Madden, who passed them under the hood and Malone received them inside. Then Smith deliberately³⁴ stripped off his own clothes and drew on a pair of German trousers.
 
"Get on a pair, Madden," he advised. "Civilian³⁵ trousers will be conspicuous³⁶ in a bright light. You are going to see this thing through, aren't you?"
 
Madden nodded and followed his companion's example. Five minutes later the two, transformed into German sailors, walked out of the hanging laundry.
 
"Don't seem, to observe anything," whispered Caradoc. "Appear to be going somewhere, on an errand. Walk just as if you belonged aboard."
 
A moment later the Briton turned down a stairway that led to a shadowy deck, which was............