Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1919-08-01
CHAPTER XIII

80 On His Way
The sun hung well above the river
mists and threw long, cherry-red
beams across the choppy channel
where clotted jets of steam and
smoke from tug and steamer drifted
with the fog; and still the captain of
the Volhynia and young Neeland sat
together in low-voiced conference in
the captains cabin; and a sailor,
armed, with cutlass and pistol, stood
outside the locked and bolted door.
Off the port bow, Liverpool spread
as far as the eye could see through
the shredded fog; to starboard, of
Brikenhead, through a haze OF pearl
and lavender, the tall phantom of an
old-time battleship doomed. She was
probably one of Nelson's ships, now
only an apparition; but to Neeland,
as he caught sight of her dimly re-
vealed, still dominating the water,
the old ship seemed like a menacinS
ghost, never to be laid until the scep-
ter of sea power fell, from an ener-
waited empire and the glory of Great
Britain departed for all time. And in
his Yankee heart he hoped devoutly
that such disaster to the world might
never come upon 1T.
Few passengers were yet astir; the
tender had not yet come alongside:
the monstrous city beyond had not
awakened.
Neeland's steamer trunk was already
in it; and now the captain accompa-
MED him to the ladder, where a sail
or took his suitcase and the olive
wood box and ran down the landing
stairs like a monkey.
Good luck" said the captain of the
Volhynia. And keep it in your mind
every minute that those two men
and that woman probably are at this
moment aboard some German fishing
craft, and headed for FRANCE:
Remember, too, that they are
merely units in a vast system; that
they are certain to communicate with
other units; that between you and
Paris are people who will be notified
to watch for you, follow you, rob
you"
Neeland nodded thoughtfully.
The captain said again:
Good luck! 1 wish you were free
to turn over that box to US. But II
you've given your word to deliver
it in person, the whole matter in
yes. I have no discretion in the
You're You're thinking, Captain West, that
1 haven't much discretion anyway"
'I don't think you have very much,
Shaking the hand which Neeland Of
fered "Well, this is merely one
symptom of a very serious business;
Mr.. Neeland That an attempt should
actually have been made to murder
you and to blow me to pieces In my
cabin is a slight indication of what
a cataclysmic explosion may shatter
the peace of the entire world at any
moment now. . . Goodby. And L
warn you very solemnly to take this
affair as a deadly serious one and not
as a lark"
They exchanged a firm clasp; then
doSonndnH
boat; the inspector of police took the
tiller; the policemen bent to the oars,
and the boat shot away through a
mist which was turning to a golden
vapor.
It was within few boat lengths
of the landing stairs that Neeland,
turning for a last look into the
steaming golden glory behind him,
saw the most splendid sight of his
life. And that sight was the British
empire assuming sovereignty.
For there. before his eyes. mill
tant, magnificent, the British fleet
was taking the sea, gliding out to
accept its fealty, moving majestical-
ly in mass after mass of steel under
flowing torrents of smoke, with the
in the binding smother of mist and
sun and the fawning cut-water hurry
ing, too, as though even every lit
tlest wave were modified and
Fastening seward in the service of
it's mistress, Ruler of all Waters; I'M
troubled by man-made kiel.
And now there was no more time
to be lost; no more stops until he
arrived in Paris. A taXicab rushed
him and his luggage across the al
most empty city;\a train, hours ear
lier than the regular steamer train,
carried him to London, where, as he
drove through the crowded, sunlit
streets. in a hanson cab, he could
see news vendors holding up strips
of paper on which was printed in
great, black letters