The "Strongbow's" task was an arduous, necessary, and momentous one. Like scores of her consorts the joy of battle was denied her. The possibility of any of her crew smelling powder was a very remote one. She was never likely to join in the chase of a fleeing enemy warship. Her men would never, according to present circumstances, witness the last plunge of a hostile cruiser, sent to the bottom by the guns of a man-of-war. Honour and glory were not to be hers when the story of the Great War comes to be written in letters of gold upon the pages of the world's history.
No, she was only a patrol-ship; doomed to cruise within certain limits and examine all strange merchant-craft that passed within sight of the alert lookout. Yet by so doing she was driving a nail into the coffin of the vaunted German Empire. She was helping to tighten the bands of economic pressure that were slowly but surely crippling the resources of the Mailed Fist.
It was not until Aubyn had removed the thick deposit of frozen spray, which, in spite of the protective shade had encrusted the object glass of the telescope, that he was able to distinguish the outlines of the strange vessel. She was a three-masted topsail schooner, close-reefed and on the starboard tack, showing her port light, which was burning brightly.
No vessel engaged in carrying contraband to Germany would be likely to show navigation lamps while attempting to steal through the cordon of British patrol-ships. The sub. knew that; yet it was his duty to report the presence of the stranger in order that the "Strongbow" could make a proper examination of her papers.
Upon receipt of the intelligence that the armed liner was heading for an unknown vessel, Captain Ripponden, aroused before he had "turned in" for less than an hour, hurried to the bridge. Orders were issued for the cutter's crew to stand by, while the "Strongbow" was manoeuvred to take up a position to windward of the schooner.
Promptly the stranger obeyed the order to heave-to. With her lean bow plunging into the angry seas like a chopper she lost way two cables' lengths from the British patrol-ship, a row of sou'-westered heads lined the lee-rail, as her crew watched the approach of "Strongbow's" boat.
Half an hour later the boarding officer returned.
"No luck, sir," he reported. "She's our old friend, the 'Sarmiento,' of Boston, U.S.A., bound for Bergen."
He was justified in calling the schooner an old friend. Three days previously the "Strongbow" had fallen in with and had boarded the self-same vessel. For three days the "Sarmiento" had tacked and tacked in the teeth of the strong nor'-easter, never gaining a mile, while the patrol-ship in keeping her to appointed limits had again fallen in with her.
"All in a night's work," remarked Captain Ripponden, as he prepared to return to his cabin. "Better luck next time. Mr. Bury, you brought the cutter alongside in excellent style."