That night they were again locked in their narrow apartment. As they had been provided with a good meal it was not such an unpleasant experience, and they were also comforted by the feeling that the submarine was now engaged in a no more perilous duty than trying to reach some port.
That night was followed by a trying day of waiting. Singularly, they had not been permitted to ascend the hatchway stairs since the first day of their capture.
"A glance at the sun would be enough to tell us the direction," remarked the captain after they left the table at the lunch hour.
"I suppose they are keeping us down here for that purpose," suggested Alfred.
"I have thought," replied the captain, "that the very fact of keeping us in ignorance of the direction they are going is the best indication that we are making for a concealed base."
When they retired the second night the captain remarked: "It is now plain to my mind that we are on the way to Germany, or, possibly, to a base somewhere at a greater distance than Spain."
"How long would it take to make the trip to Germany?" asked Alfred.
"If we circled the British Isles and came in by way of Norway, it would mean a run of 1,400 miles. To go by way of the Channel would be about 800 miles. It would make but little difference in point of time," answered the captain.
"Why wouldn't it take longer to travel 1,400 miles?" asked Ralph.
"Because on the long route we would be able to travel four-fifths of the way on the surface, and would not have to avoid mines and nets. The Channel route is a dangerous one, requiring the utmost caution," said the captain.