“Ahoy there, schooner!” came another hail. Then in a sharper voice. “Lie to, there.”
For all the rejoinder that came back the schooner might as well have been a ghostly craft manned by phantoms. Only the occasional creak of a block came from her.
“Lay alongside of her, Strong,” ordered the officer, in a sharp voice; “it begins to look as if there really were something wrong aboard her.”
Ned obeyed instructions, and soon there was not more than ten feet of water between the sailing craft and the submarine.
“Try them again, sir,” suggested Mr. Stark.
“Confound them,” grunted the officer; “they must be a crew of deaf mutes.”
He placed his hands to his mouth funnel-wise and gave another sharp hail.
“Ahoy there, schooner, we want to speak to you.”
The answer was as startling as it was unexpected. A sudden red flare cut through the night. Then came the whistle of a bullet, followed by a sharp report.