Imagining that the game was up, the stolid Dutch skipper leant over the bridge rail, while a dozen of the crew peered anxiously over the side.
"This is a Dutch ship," announced the skipper vehemently in German. "Why are you stopping me?"
"We are not stopping you, my friend," replied Warborough, in English. "Can you understand?"
"Yes, ver' well," was the reply; then pointing to the distant British cruiser, which was now recognisable as one of the "Astraea" class, he continued: "If you English, why dat sheep fire?"
"Just what we don't want her to do," replied Warborough. "So we've taken the liberty of ranging up alongside you. They can't very well fire at us now, and they'll soon discover their mistake."
Meanwhile, the signalman had hoisted the submarine's code number, but owing to the confusing background afforded by the tramp's tricoloured sides, the hoist was not readily "picked up" by the cruiser, which was now approaching to ascertain the mystery of a supposedly hostile craft that had the audacity to hold up a merchantman under the very guns of a British man-of-war.
"There's the answering pendant, sir—at the dip," announced the signalman, pointing to a red and white strip of bunting hoisted half-way up the cruiser's yard-arm. "Now it's hoisted close up, sir!" he added after a brief pause.
The cruiser had seen and had read the submarine's signal. Closing, she ramped up at a cable's length from the little craft that she had done her level best to sink.
A facetious exchange of compliments by means of hand-flags was indulged in, and with a mutual farewell the British vessels parted, while the skipper of the Dutch tramp, devoutly grateful that things were not so bad as he had imagined, resumed his course towards Ymuiden.