When the cuckoo in the clock, shelved above the fancy tiled fireplace, warbled the hour of 4 a. m., Hans shook the sleepy attendant into a waking moment, and hustled him after cakes and coffee.
At 5 o’clock Hans and the boys dropped again into the boat in which they had floated down from Santvlieto.
Captain Eberhardt’s vessel was in anchor in the sloppy waters off Flushing, and the captain was aboard when Hans and the boys climbed to the deck.
The captain had also, just previously, been visited by members of the coast guard service, but as he was well known, and not a character under suspicion, this visit was wholly informal.
At 7 o’clock the vessel weighed anchor, and steamed out to sea.
With Flushing far behind them, the boys began to notice an occasional appearance above the waves of a slim gray periscope, a long tube fitted with a series of prisms, which enable the men guiding the submarines to obtain a view of the surrounding water.
When several of these under water boats showed at once, half submerged, and men could be seen huddled together in the barrels of bridges, Jimmy’s delight knew no bounds.
“What do you think of them, now, you flying catapults?” he called to the boys.
“Wouldn’t mind taking a ride in one, old top,” was Billy’s genial observation.
“You’d like it when you got used to it,” advised Jimmy.