“I thought so,” said Darrin, nodding comprehendingly. “Dan, you’ve everything here but the children.”
Those who had already entered the boats now turned to help the wearers of skirts. The two boats were swung out. After that, a third boat, similarly loaded, was also swung out on the davits. Blocks and falls creaked as the boats and their human freight were lowered.
Fortunately, the sea was not rough. All of the boats reached the water safely and rowed away.
From the submarine a puff of smoke at the muzzle of the after gun announced the rushing departure of another shell. This missile struck the water barely fifty feet in advance of one of the boats, but disappeared without doing any harm.
“At their old, dirty tricks of terrorizing and murdering passengers in the small boats!” muttered Dan Dalzell, savagely. “And yet, at one time, there were Americans who wondered why we entered this war!”
For a fourth time the “Prince’s” whistle began its serial wail. Now, however—clever ruse!—the whistle’s sound was feebler, the jets of white steam smaller and fainter. It looked as though the boilers had been emptied of steam.
“Heinie von dem Sub has concluded that we’re a dead proposition,” chuckled Dalzell, as the submarine, instead of firing other shots at once, moved in closer. On she came, this dirty, gray pest of the sea, until she was within three hundred yards.
“Abandon completely before we sink you!” was the message signalled from the enemy. “Your captain and chief engineer must come aboard us with all ship’s instruments and papers.”
“Shake out the signal, ‘Your message understood,’” shouted Dan from the bridge.
After a moment the flags composing the signal were started toward the “Prince’s” foremast head.