The Blue Grass Seminary Girls on the Water Part 8

"What makes you think that?" he asked.

"I don't know. I don't really believe it; I just happened to think of it. Wouldn't it be fun if he was?"

"Well, that all depends," replied d.i.c.k. "It depends on what his business aboard would be."

"But what could it be in such a case?" questioned Mabel.

"Well, it might be lots of things. But I don't put any stock in such an explanation."

"Nor I," declared Mr. Willing. "It's my belief the young man is in trouble of some kind, and I'd like to help him out if I could. I like him."

"And so do I," agreed Mabel.

"To tell the truth, I don't know whether I do or not," said d.i.c.k slowly.

"He's agreeable, and all that; but there is something very peculiar about him. I am sure there is something wrong."

"If I get a good chance, I shall ask him," declared Mabel.

"You'll have about the same luck Dad did when he asked him his business," retorted Shirley, "and that wasn't much."

"Take my advice, all of you, and let him alone," remarked Colonel Ashton.

"That is good advice, Ashton," declared Mr. Willing. "But come, it's bedtime and we shall want to be about early in the morning to enjoy some of this ocean breeze."

An hour later all were asleep.

Had they been about they would have seen a strange sight.

On the upper deck aft, as the ship's bell chimed midnight, three men sat in deep conversation. Two of them were strangers, but the third Shirley or any of her party would immediately have recognized as Henry Bristow.

And there would also have been something else noticeable. The bandage had been removed from his head, nor was there wound nor swelling to show why it should have been tied up in the first place.

The three men talked for perhaps fifteen minutes in low whispers and then parted, going their several ways.

As he had promised, Bristow was about the ship the following morning, but his head was once more bandaged. Mabel, true to her words of the night before, seized the first opportunity and asked him how he had been injured.

"That," was the quiet reply, "I cannot say."

Mabel was highly indignant, and took herself off, leaving the young man smiling after her. Then he shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

All morning the sun shone warm and bright, though it was not too hot for comfort. It was shortly after noon when the pa.s.sengers were treated to an interesting sight.

Some distance to port came the smoke of another ship, and as it drew nearer an air of subdued excitement became apparent on the _Yucatan_.

"Armed cruiser off the port bow, sir!" came the hail from the lookout.

All rushed toward the rail, and stood looking at the large ship of war, as she bore down toward them. There was no flag at her masthead, and so the pa.s.sengers were unable to determine her nationality.

"What can she be?" exclaimed Shirley.

"British, I suppose," was d.i.c.k's answer. "She'll show her colors presently, I guess."

d.i.c.k was right. Five minutes later the British ensign was run up the masthead and fluttered in the breeze.

A great cheer broke from most of the pa.s.sengers aboard the _Yucatan_.

Shirley and Mabel joined in it.

At that moment d.i.c.k caught sight of the face of Bristow, who stood near.

His lips were compressed, and he scowled fiercely.

"He's no Englishman, that's sure," muttered the young man to himself.

Suddenly, from across the water, came the sound of a big gun, and a solid shot struck the water dead ahead of the _Yucatan_.

Immediately her engines were stopped, and the pa.s.senger steamer came to a stop.

Instantly wild alarm spread over the ship.

"We've been fired on," cried Shirley. "Will they sink us?"

d.i.c.k smiled.

"Oh, I guess not," he replied. "That's just a signal to heave-to and give an account of ourselves."

"But what business have they stopping an American ship?" exclaimed Shirley.

"It is permissible under the laws of war," explained d.i.c.k. "You see, the _Yucatan_ might be an enemy flying the American flag. As soon as they find out we are all right, they will allow us to proceed."

"And would we have to stop just the same for a German?"

"Of course."

"I wouldn't like that," declared Shirley. "I don't mind the English. My grandmother was English, you know."

"Well, I guess my sympathies are a little that way, too," agreed d.i.c.k.

The wireless now began to sputter as messages were exchanged between the _Yucatan_ and the British cruiser. The latter had approached close enough to make out the _Yucatan_, and now signalled her to proceed on her course.

As the big ship of war turned and made off, a second ovation was given her by the pa.s.sengers. Men waved their hats and women their handkerchiefs.

Suddenly Shirley seized d.i.c.k by the arm, and pointed, whispering:

"Look at that!"

Far aft, Henry Bristow gazed across the water at the British cruiser, and Shirley had perceived that there was hate in his eyes. Even as d.i.c.k looked in the direction Shirley pointed, Bristow raised a fist and shook it fiercely at the receding war vessel, while strange words issued from between his lips.