CHAPTER XXXII
THE DOGGER BANK
The sound of the explosion reverberated through the little craft like thunder. Orloff and half a dozen more men came rushing up.
“This man disobeyed me,” I said, quietly, slipping a fresh cartridge into the smoking chamber of my revolver. “Throw the body overboard, and return to your duties.”
What instructions Orloff and his men had received it was impossible for me to guess. But they clearly did not authorize any breach of discipline at this stage of the voyage.
Without the slightest demur they lifted up the body, and carried it off. I had learned the way to manage the submarine by watching Orloff during the night, and I now pressed a lever which brought us swiftly to the surface. There was a sound of trampling feet overhead, followed by a splash, and I saw the mutineer’s body drift past.
It would be idle to seek for words in which to describe the overpowering anxiety which racked my nerves as we tore through the water. The peace of Europe, the safety of Japan and Great Britain, perhaps the future of the world, might be at stake.
Everything depended on my finding the other submarine before it had launched its bolt against the great war fleet which was even now steaming through the Danish Belts, officered by men, some of whom I knew to be ready to take advantage of any pretext for outraging the peace of the seas.