Unfortunately for von Hoppner's good intentions his idea of having an undisturbed slumber was rudely shattered by the appearance of a messenger.
"What is it, numskull?" thundered the Kapitan-Leutnant.
"A signal from the flag ship, Herr Kapitan," replied the man. "The armed liner Komoran has arrived from the South Atlantic with numerous prisoners. We are to pass her through without delay."
Grumblingly von Hoppner resumed his recently-discarded greatcoat and muffler, thrust his cap over his eyes, and made his way on deck and thence to the bridge.
"Well?" he enquired laconically, addressing a tall, cadaverous-featured unter-leutnant.
"The Komoran is sighted, sir," replied the junior officer. "S19 has just signalled that she is escorting her direct to Stettin. This time, I trust, there will be no mistake."
Unter-Leutnant Schwam was referring to the case of a German commerce-destroyer that, having successfully evaded the British patrols in the North Sea, was fired upon and sunk by Hun cruisers in the Baltic under the misapprehension that she was an enemy vessel attempting to run the gauntlet. Since then elaborate precautions had been taken to prevent a similar occurrence, one of which was that commanding officers of patrolling craft were to be on the bridge whenever a German war vessel was passing through the cordon.
Having carried out his duties as far as the returning raider was concerned, von Hoppner was about to seek his bunk once more when a vivid light flared from the surface of the water at a distance of less than two miles from the patrolling torpedo-boat.
"Donnerwetter!" ejaculated the now furious Kapitan-Leutnant. "Am I to get no sleep to-night? How does that light bear, Herr Schwam?"
The Unter-Leutnant took a compass bearing and reported the result of his investigations to his superior.