The distance from the point where they boarded the ship to Havre was about two hundred miles. Ordinarily, they would have reached port at six in the morning, but the route during the night was a slow and tedious one, for the reason that all ships along the channel route were permitted to pass only during certain hours when the war vessels acted as guides and convoys through the open lane.
Once near the zone of the nets no lights were permitted, and each ship had to be taken through by special vessels designated for this work, and, when once clear of the nets, extra precautions were taken to convoy them to relative points of safety beyond.
When Ralph awoke the next morning, and saw that it was past six, he hurriedly dressed himself, and, taking a look at Alfred, who was quietly sleeping, ascended the deck. He was surprised to see nothing but the open sea on all sides. Addressing a seaman, he asked:
"Haven't we reached Havre yet?"
"No; we may not get there until nine o'clock. We have had reports of many submarines in the mouth of the channel, and they are, probably, lying in wait to intercept steamers going to or coming from Havre," replied the man.
Pacing the deck he found many of the passengers excited at the news, although it was the policy of the officers to keep the most alarming information from them. Meeting the second officer he inquired about the captain, and was informed that he had just gone down to see Alfred. Nearing the companionway he met the captain and Alfred, the latter looking somewhat pale, and rather weak or unsteady in his walk.
"I am glad to see you looking so well," said Ralph. "Where are you hurt the most?"
"Look at the back of my head," replied Alfred. "I suppose I must have struck the railing as the thing heaved up."
The captain suddenly sprang forward and the boys followed in wonderment. Before they had time to ask any questions they were startled by a shot.
"That was a pretty big gun to make such a racket," remarked Ralph.