For the next two hours the "Lonette" and the "Pixie" cruised between the Newarp and the Cross Sands without sighting a suspicious craft. It was now nearly dawn.
"Sleepy?" inquired Waynsford, as Aubyn stifled a yawn. "Have a caulk in the cabin: you'll find the cushions fairly comfortable, and they were well aired this morning—yesterday morning, I mean."
"Thanks, I'll stick it," replied Terence. "It's been a fairly long day, but one must get used to it."
"Trawler, or some such craft on the starboard bow, sir," announced one of the "Lonette's" crew. "She's showing no lights."
Waynsford immediately altered helm; the skipper of the "Pixie", quickly followed suit, and the two motor-boats slowed down, one on each quarter of the trawler, whose nets were out.
"Trawler, ahoy. What ship is that?" shouted Waynsford.
"Dis de 'Vanhuit' of Scheveningen, Hollander trawler," replied a voice in broken English. "We goot way outside dree mile limit, mynheer."
"Stand by with a rope, then," rejoined the skipper of the "Lonette." "We want to have a look at you."
Somewhat reluctantly the Dutchman threw a coil of rope, the end of which the bowman of the "Lonette" deftly made fast to a bollard. The "Pixie" remained a boat's length or so off.
"May as well come, Aubyn," suggested Waynsford. "A little exercise won't do you any harm." The two subs, followed by one of the crew, swarmed up the tarry side of the trawler and gained the deck.