north side of Crete, whose appearance caused the captain of the Caledonia the liveliest anxiety, which soon communicated itself to the passengers.  All the telescopes and field-glasses were directed towards the vessel, whose course was bound to cut across that of the Caledonia.  She soon came near enough to be recognised.  She was the small French cruiser Forbin, and was bound to meet the Caledonia if the latter continued her course.

The Forbin was a third-class cruiser, not so fast as the Caledonia (the officers estimated her speed at twenty-one knots), which could have beaten her in a race; but if the Caledonia made for Brindisi, she was bound to meet the Frenchman, and could only expect to be captured.  Accordingly, the captain altered his course and turned westwards towards Malta, without heeding the signal to stop or the shots that were fired, one of which only went through the rigging, without doing any damage worth mentioning.

“It is now noon,” said Heideck.  “We ought to be in Brindisi to-morrow.  Instead, we shall be in La Valetta, unless the captain changes his course again and trusts to the speed of the Caledonia to reach Brindisi in spite of the Forbin.”

Then a loud shout was heard.  The look-out man reported a ship on the port side, and in a few minutes two other vessels suddenly appeared.

One of them afterwards proved to be the French second-class cruiser Arethuse; the others were the protected cruiser Chanzy and a torpedo-destroyer.

The Caledonia could not possibly get past the French in the direction of Malta, for the destroyer was much faster and capable of making, at full speed, twenty-seven knots an hour.  The captain had no choice; he accordingly turned round, and began to make for Alexandria again.

While the great vessel was wheeling round, those on board perceived that the French had seen her and had started in pursuit.

Meanwhile the Forbin had approached considerably nearer and was attempting to cut off the Caledonia.  The captain accordingly gave orders to steer further south.

Heideck, standing with Edith on the promenade-deck, followed the movements of the vessels.

“What would happen to us if the French overtook us?” asked Edith.  “Surely they would not fire on an unarmed ship?”

“Certainly not.  But they would call upon us to discontinue our journey, and then they would take the Caledonia to the nearest French port.”

“Is that the rule of naval warfare?  Is the general law of nations so defective that a passenger steamer can be captured?  The Caledonia is not a combatant.  She is taking home wounded men and harmless passengers.”

“Our captain doesn’t seem to have much confidence in the laws of naval warfare or nations in this case,” said Heideck.  “In fact, nothing is more uncertain than these definitions.  Strictly speaking, there is no such thing as international law; the stronger does what he likes with the weaker, and the only check on the arbitrariness of the victor is the fear of public opinion.  But this fear does not weigh much with him who has might on his side, especially as he knows that public opinion can be bribed.”