The Submarine Hunter chuckled. "I've learned to respect 'em," he replied dryly. "Down the Malay Archipelago I learned something about tides, spittin' overboard from salvage craft…." He stood upright. "Well, sir, we'd better get to business. These gentlemen here are the brains of the party"—he nodded at the group aft. "I'm only in the picture to put them wise as to certain practical conditions of the game…." He dropped his voice to a confidential undertone as they walked aft. "The Navy scares me. It's so damned big, and there's so much gold lace—and it's so almighty efficient…."
Half an hour's discussion settled the modus operandi for the experiment. The Submarine Commander rose from the gunwale and tossed away his cigarette-end, then he grinned at the Submarine Hunter who stood with one shoulder against the structure aft, shredding tobacco into the palm of his hand.
"Gardez-vous, Old Sport!" he said, as he began to climb down into the dinghy, where Sir William joined him.
"That's French, ain't it?" said the Submarine Hunter. "Don't speak the lingo."
One of the Naval officers standing by the apparatus laughed. "It's a challenge," he said. "Means 'Mind your eye!'"
The Hunter jerked his clasp knife in the direction of the fore-hatch. "I can mind it all right," he replied grimly, and laughed with a sudden disconcerting bark of amusement.
* * * * *
"Now," said the Submarine Commander as the pointed bows swung round for the open sea, "we'll get away out of it. Must keep on the surface for a while—too many short-tempered little patrol boats close in to let us cruise with only a periscope showing." He waved his hand in the direction of countless smudges of smoke ringing the clear horizon. "But once we're clear of those we'll dive and hide somewhere for a while. Give old man Gedge something to scratch his head about, lookin' for us. Then we'll play round and test the apparatus…. You'll be able to observe the compass all the time, and I'll give you the distances. There's a young flood making …"
For the space of a couple of hours the boat slid swiftly through the waves and successive cordons of patrols passed them onwards with flickering signals. The men onboard a line of rusty drifters leaned over the sides of their plunging craft and waved as the jaws of their baleful traps opened to let them pass through. Above their heads a gull circled inquisitively, shrilling the high, thin Song of the Seventh Sea: astern the peaks of Ultima Thule faded like opals into the blue.
A little cluster of rocky islands rose at length out of the sea ahead; the Submarine Commander took a swift bearing and rolled up the chart.