"This is certainly high-handed!" cried Larry.

"So we've got to go over to that old coal box, eh?" grumbled Luke, when he heard the news. "It's hard luck, Larry."

"You're right, Luke, but it can't be helped."

"What will they do with us?"

"I haven't the least idea."

"Will they take us to Russia?"

"I suppose so--or stow us away in one of those cold and dirty Siberian prisons until we can get Uncle Sam to make them release us."

When it came time to depart from the _Columbia_ Larry was allowed to take only a bundle of clothing along, and Grandon and the common sailors were treated no better. The captain was allowed a trunk and a suit case.

In the meantime Semmel was questioned once more, and what he had to tell made the Russians look darkly at our friends.

"He is pumping all sorts of falsehoods into them, I suppose," said Larry to Luke, and he was right. Semmel made it appear that Captain Ponsberry was really an agent of the j.a.panese Government and that he (Semmel) had done his best to gain possession of the ship wholly for the benefit of his own country.

"If you really did this, it is very worthy of you," said one of the officers. "But we shall have to investigate before we accept your story in full." This was not so encouraging, but with it Ostag Semmel had to be content.

Fearing that a j.a.panese warship might put in an appearance at any moment, the Russians lost no time in transferring the officers and men of the _Columbia_ to the _Pocastra_ and at the same time a prize crew of two officers and ten men were taken from the warship to the schooner.

Then the sails of the _Columbia_ were hoisted and off she set to the eastward, and the warship moved in the same direction.

When placed aboard the _Pocastra_ Captain Ponsberry was treated politely and given a small room of his own. But the mates and the ordinary seamen were not so fortunate. Grandon, Larry, and Luke Striker were hustled off to a prison pen on one deck of the auxiliary cruiser, and the others to another pen below, which was even worse.

"This is certainly hard luck," said Larry, as he threw his bundle into a corner and sat down on an iron bench, while Grandon and Luke did the same. "And after we had almost reached Nagasaki, too!"

"Well, there ain't no use to cry over spilt milk," came from Luke.

"We're prisoners o' war, an' I reckon as how we have got to make the best o' it. Ain't the first time we've been in sech a fix."

"That is true, Luke, but it doesn't help the matter any. I guess we have seen the last of the old _Columbia_."

"I was afraid of this sort of thing happening ever since we left Manila," came from Grandon. "I told the old man to be careful, that----"

"Hush!" whispered Larry. "They may be listening--to make sure that they have caught the right parties."

"True for you, Larry; I won't say another word about that. But it looks dismal, no two ways on't," and the first mate drew a mountainous sigh.

The prison pen into which they had been placed was an iron structure, reaching from floor to ceiling, and was not over ten feet square. It had a solid back and the remaining three sides were built up of stout iron bars, only a couple of inches apart. There was a door which was doubly locked, the key being held by a petty officer who could speak broken English and who rejoiced in the simple name of Rosenvischpoff. For short Luke nicknamed him Rosey and this name stuck to him.

"Doesn't look as if a fellow could break out of here very easily," said Larry, after an inspection of their prison. "This is a regular bank vault."

"Wouldn't do you any good to break out," returned Grandon. "As we are on the ocean, where would you go to?"

"We might hide until the vessel made a landing."

"Humph, and that would be in some Russian port, so you'd be just as bad off."

"Well, I'm not trying to escape just now. I want to get the lay of the land first, and try to find out what they are going to do with us."

From Rosenvischpoff they learned that the _Pocastra_ was one of a large number of steamers of various Russian lines which had been lately pressed into the service of the national navy. She had been rushed through at one of the Russian navy yards and provided with a battery of four small and four large guns, none, however, over eight inches. She carried a crew of one hundred and eighty men, drafted princ.i.p.ally from other warships. She had an advertised speed of twenty knots an hour but rarely made over seventeen or eighteen. She was old and her engines were constantly in need of repair, much to the disgust of Captain t.i.torsky, her commander.

"Well, Rosey, how goes this war?" asked Luke, pleasantly, as the petty officer came around to give them something to eat.

"Big fight all der dime," answered Rosenvischpoff. "Russians kill all der j.a.ps--sink all der j.a.p ships, yes!"

"You're winning right along, eh?"

"Yes, Russians win--j.a.ps no do noddings, no!" And the petty officer left the food on the bench and hurried away again.

"Do you believe that?" asked Larry.

"No, I don't," came from Grandon. "He told us that simply to scare us, or else he doesn't know the real truth."

"Exactly what I think."

"These Russians are a lot of blowers," growled Luke. "Just look at Semmel. He was forever tooting his horn, and yet he couldn't do much of anything."

"He got us into trouble," said Larry, quickly.

"That's true, but he had to have this warship with all on board to help him."

The food which had been brought to them consisted of a big bowl of stew, with three spoons, and three chunks of black bread.

"They are going to treat us to the best," said Grandon, sarcastically.

He lifted one of the spoons and tasted the stew. "Phew, it's hot enough!

Pepper, garlic, and hot water!"

"Does beat all how these fureigners do love their garlic," grumbled Luke. "'Twas the same way with them Spaniards in the Philippines."

"Garlic and grease," added Larry. "And this bread is hard enough to build a wall with," he continued. "However, we have got to eat or go hungry." And he partook of just enough to stay his stomach. Luke and Grandon were not so particular and despite their grumbling managed to make away with all that remained.

They saw nothing of the captain, or of the sailors who had been taken below, and the time hung heavily on their hands. At night they were given three hammocks and these they slung from one side of the prison to the other and rested as well as could be expected. The Russian sailors often came to the pen to gaze at them, but they had been warned not to attempt to converse with the prisoners, so nothing was said.

On the afternoon of the third day aboard of the _Pocastra_, those in the pen heard a loud shouting on deck, followed by a rush of feet. Larry, who was resting in the corner for the want of something better to do, leaped up.

"Something is doing!" he cried to his companions.

"Here comes Captain Ponsberry," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Tom Grandon.

He was right, the captain was coming up in company with Rosenvischpoff and two sailors. The Russian petty officer opened the door of the pen and Captain Ponsberry was thrust inside. Then the door was locked as before.

"How are you, boys?" cried the captain, cordially. "All well, I hope."

"We are," answered Grandon. "And you?"

"I'm well enough, but still angry to think that we lost the _Columbia_."

"So are we angry," said Larry. "But we've got to stand it. What's that noise?"