As I heard the brave, hardy fishermen talking to one another, the temptation was a strong one to disclose myself, and warn them of the coming peril.
Only my experience of the uselessness of such warnings restrained me. I knew that these simple, law-abiding citizens would laugh me in the face if I told them that they were in danger from the warships of a foreign Power.
As my unseen vessel glided softly past the side of one fishing-boat, whose name I could just make as the Crane, I overheard a few scraps of conversation, which threw a pathetic light on the situation.
“We shall have the Rooshians coming along presently,” said one voice.
“No,” answered another, “they won’t come anywhere near us. ’Tis out of their course.”
“They do say the Rooshians don’t know much about seamanship,” a third voice spoke out. “Like as not we’ll see their search-lights going by.”
“Well, if they come near enough, we’ll give the beggars a cheer; what d’ye say?”
“Aye, let’s. Fair play’s what I wishes ’em, and let the best man win.”
The words died away along the water, as I drew off and let my craft sink under once again.