"Hello, Jally!" he cried cheerily when he saw us. "Come on in. I am only doing a little packing up. What's it like outside?"
"Raining same as ever, but I don't think it's blowing up any harder."
"Hooray!" cried the young captain with heart-felt sincerity. "Then I'll get out to-night. You know the captain told me that if it got any worse he'd hold me till to-morrow morning. I told him I'd rather go out to-night. Perfect cinch once you get to the mouth of the bay, all you have to do is submerge and take it easy. What do you think of the news? Smithie thinks he saw a Hun yesterday.... Got anything good to read? Somebody's pinched that magazine I was reading. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, that ought to be enough handkerchiefs.... Hello, there goes the juice."
The humming of the dynamo was dying away slowly, fading with an effect of lengthening distance. The guitar orchestra, as if to celebrate its deliverance, burst into a triumphant rendering of Sousa's "Stars and Stripes."
My guide and I waited till after midnight to watch the going of Branch's Z5. Branch and his second, wearing black oilskins down whose gleaming surface ran beaded drops of rain, stood on the bridge; a number of sailors were busy doing various things along the deck. The electric lights shone in all their calm unearthly brilliance. Then slowly, very slowly, the Z5 began to gather headway, the clear water seemed to flow past her green sides, and she rode out of the pool of light into the darkness waiting close at hand.
"Good-bye! Good luck!" we cried.
A vagrant shower came roaring down into the shining pool.
"Good-bye!" cried voices through the night.
Three minutes later all trace of the Z5 had disappeared in the dark.