The next day--when the "Harlech" was steadily ploughing her way, heading for the entrance of the Channel--was an anxious time for Crouch. He knew the full value of the cargo he carried, and its utmost importance to those to whom it was consigned; and he knew also that, at any moment, a torpedo from some lurking, hidden foe might send the ship and all on board to the bottom. A heavy sea fog lay upon the surface of the water. Dawes was in bed, unable to rise; and since the third officer was somewhat young and inexperienced, nearly all the responsible work of the ship devolved upon the captain.
That afternoon, towards sunset, the fog lifted a trifle. Crouch remained upon the bridge, straining his single eye through his long telescope for minutes at a time. Presently, he closed the instrument with a snap, tucked it under his arm, and dived both hands into his trousers pockets.
"Just as I thought!" he exclaimed. "We're a good six points to the south, and on the wrong side of the Scillies. That man's a rogue."
There was no one to hear this remark but the quartermaster at the wheel, and Jimmy Burke, who had just then ascended the bridge steps with a cup of bovril for the captain, who had sent below for something to warm him up.
"My boy," said Crouch, "I may have done you a wrong. Mind, I don't say I have; but, I'm quite ready to confess that there's a chance of it. Come and see me in my cabin, at ten o'clock to-night."
During that evening and the early hours of the night, the "Harlech" rounded the Scilly Islands, and sighted the Cornish coast, where the great, powerful light at the Lizard flashes its message of warning across eighty miles of sea.
Jimmy Burke, filled with anticipation concerning his coming interview with the captain, did not turn into the forecastle, but betook himself to the poop, where he lay down upon a great coil of rope.
Now, those who know anything of the hardships of a sea-faring life are well aware that a coil of rope makes a couch that is far from being uncomfortable--as things go with those whose fate it is to serve before the mast. There is always a great depression in the middle, in which it is possible for the body to sink; and this is exactly what happened to Jimmy Burke. He sank so deeply in the midst of the coils of rope that, in spite of the fact that it was an exceedingly bright moonlit night, his form was completely hidden from any one who might happen to be passing.
He did not fall asleep, because he was particularly anxious to count each sounding of the ship's bells, knowing that at four bells precisely he would have to report himself to Captain Crouch. He was therefore in full possession of his senses and wide awake when a shadowy form ascended the poop steps, and passed to the taffrails at the very stern of the vessel, from which was suspended the rope of the ship's log.
This man Jimmy recognized at once as Rudolf Stork. Even in that light, there was no mistaking his broad, sloping shoulders and his slovenly gait. Stork carried something in his hand; and at first the boy was not able to make out what this was. He was not left long in doubt, however; for, when Stork raised it to the level of the taffrails and began to move up and down a small lever which made a persistent, irregular tapping sound, it became manifest that the man was in possession of a signalling lamp, with which he was sending messages to some unknown point in the darkness that was spread upon the sea.