The officer shook his head.
“No,” he replied, “but it was pretty dark and they might have been within a few miles—very low visibility.”
“And no other vessel that might have picked them up?” continued Rawlins.
“Not a sail in sight—except a fishing smack about ten miles off. We ran down to her and boarded her. Thought they might have sighted the sub, or picked up the men. They hadn’t done either. Bunch of square-heads that didn’t seem to know what a sub was, just dirty fishermen.”
“Dead sure they were?” asked Rawlins. “Didn’t notice where she hailed from, did you?”
The officer flushed.
“Afraid we didn’t,” he admitted, a trace of resentment at being questioned in his tones. “She hoisted sail soon after we left her.”
“And nothing peculiar about her in any way, I suppose?” suggested Mr. Pauling.
“Well, I didn’t see anything,” replied the commander, “but I believe one of my bluejackets made some remark about her rig. He’s a bo’sun’s mate and an old man-o-warsman—Britisher but naturalized citizen and served in the British navy. Would
you like to question him? I’m no expert on sailing craft myself.”