* * * * *
The Zero had turned her head out to sea for the second attack. Jenkins had carefully marked the spot where the submarine had dived and felt fairly confident of picking up the periscope a second time. Burton also was beginning to alter his opinion about the difficulty of spotting a periscope. Perhaps it was easier than he had thought it. True, he hadn’t seen it last time, but then he was looking out on the other side of the ship and couldn’t be expected to have picked it up.
He crossed over to where the captain was standing.
‘How far are we going out, sir?’ he asked.
‘About the same distance, but we’ll keep her at this speed till we turn round for the run. Raymond wants to do some fancy work or other to train his crew.’
‘Very good, sir. I expect he was pretty sick at missing us last time. He thinks he’s rather a knut at attacks, doesn’t he?’
‘Oh, he doesn’t mind,’ laughed the other. ‘It won’t worry him, he’s one of the best. And don’t run away with the idea that he won’t get us, because his blood’s up now, and it would be hard to find a better submarine officer when he really means business. How does the lighthouse bear?’
‘About another three miles to go,’ replied Burton, peering along the azimuth ring.
‘We’ll carry on like this for another quarter of an hour then before we turn round. Warn the look-outs when we start the run.’
The Torpedo Boat steamed on at about twelve knots to the limit of the area. Her red flag warned all intruders of the nature of her errand, and any passing craft gave a wide berth to the region in which she was working.