“We are now about sixty miles off the coast of North America,” he said coldly. “It is a long swim, my young friend. Come now—we will go on deck.”
He strode out of the room, and Bill and Osceola followed him, with a look of mutual understanding. The sailor brought up the rear.
Charlie called to them from the rail. “Say, look what I’ve found! That’s what took Mother and Dad and everybody off of here while I was in the trunk room. Hans says they’re going to take us too. I don’t care what happens now, I’ll be with Dad and Mother—but it’s pretty tough on you fellows! Say, you wouldn’t think these Heinies had brains enough to run one of those things, would you?”
He waved excitedly overside, and the two friends saw the long gray hull and conning tower of a submarine moored beside the yacht.
The baron, who had stopped to speak to a young officer, walked over to the boy and caught him roughly by the shoulder.
“Devil-child!” he roared in his deep bass. “I spoke to you regarding insolence for the last time a short while ago!” He turned to the officer. “Herr Lieutenant!” he commanded. “Take this boy forward and see that he is well punished.”
“The whip, Herr Baron?”
“Ten lashes—yes—and at once.”
“Zum befehl, Herr Baron!” He grabbed Charlie’s arm and yanked the struggling youngster along the deck.
Like a flash Bill darted after them. He caught up with the pair at the gangway, and gripping the young officer by the collar, he jerked him backward on to the deck. Then, as Charlie made a dash for Osceola, he bent down and deliberately slapped the lieutenant’s face with the palm of his open hand.