“Bub u lul lul yack!” shouted Jim. “Where? When?”
“Immediately!”
The submarine was on the surface of the water, but Jim and Kent had been ushered below, evidently to give their mysterious fellow prisoners a turn at the deck. They were never allowed to see them, and to this day are absolutely ignorant as to who they were or how many or of what nationality.
It turned out that a Swedish vessel, the Signy, had been sighted thirteen miles off the Spanish port of Camariñas. She was signaled and ordered to take aboard the Kentuckians and land them. Explicit commands were given the captain of the Signy that she was to land the young men immediately.
Kent and Jim were too glad to get off the submarine to care where they were being landed. They only hoped it was not in South America.
“Gug o o dud bub yack!” shouted Jim to the grinning crew of the German vessel.
The young lieutenant of the inquisitive mind made another note in his little book as the life boat from the Swedish ship bore the young men away.
They were very cordially received on board the Signy but not allowed to stay a moment longer than was necessary. The ship steamed to within a few miles of the Spanish port, all the time being followed up by the submarine, then the boats were lowered again and Kent and Jim rowed to shore. They were given a good meal in the interim, however, one that they were most pleased to get, too, as black bread and canned stew had begun to pall on these favored sons of Kentucky.
“Where in the thunder is Camariñas?” queried Kent. “I know it is Spain, but is it north, south, east or west?”
“Well, I reckon it isn’t east and that’s about all I know.”