For never before had the sharklike submarine abounded nor the airplanes swept overhead, both carrying death and destruction. When the Colodia left port her crew had small surety that they would return. This present night call was a new one for them.
The crew of the supposedly wrecked Zeppelin had been possibly five hours in the sea when the captured Germans told of their comrades’ fate. The British port admiral had communicated with Commander Lang within a few minutes of his hearing the tragic tale.
There was perhaps a particular reason why the order to find the wreck of the Zeppelin and her crew (if they were not drowned) was given to one of the American destroyers instead of to a British patrol boat.
After all, the Yankees could not feel the same degree of bitterness and hatred of the Hun and his works as the British sailor did. The murder of the school children and their teacher was known to every British sailor in the port. To their horror was added personal bitterness. And this order sent the Colodia on a mission of mercy!
“The best I can hope for them,” said Morgan to George Belding, who had been placed in Whistler’s watch and had donned such uniform as the master-at-arms could supply him, “is that they will all be comfortably drowned before we find any trace of the Zep. That maybe is wicked; but it is the way I feel.”
“That would be better than they deserve,” Belding agreed. “Just think what that spy did to me!”
He was still very much disturbed in his mind regarding the loss of his letters and valuable papers.
“Why, you can’t tell, Phil,” said he, “what the Huns might try to do. If they read father’s letters and learned about all that gold——”
“You really mean the Redbird will take out treasure to Bahia?” asked Whistler in great concern.
“Yes. More gold coin than there is any use talking about,” whispered Belding. “Father knew I would be interested in all the details, so he told me.”