"So would I," agreed Tressidar. "It's a mystery to me how he was able to place the explosives on board. Never mind; we'll lay him by the heels."
Briefly he explained his plan of action.
"Capital, if it works," decided the flight-sub.
Dawn was breaking as the two chums trudged wearily into the little Jutland town of Esbjerg. Guided by a seaman's unerring instinct, they made straight for the harbour.
It was now a little more than half flood. Lying alongside the western pier, that with the mole encloses the outer tidal harbour, were several small tramps with steam raised. They were still aground, and would be for another hour. Amongst them was a wall-sided, grey-hulled steamer, with the Danish colours painted conspicuously on both sides as well as the name "Nordby" in letters six feet in height.
The work of loading was not yet complete, for gangs of stevedores were carrying sacks of smoked bacon and kegs of butter from the quay to the hold. A sleepy young officer was directing operations. He was the only member of the ship's complement visible. The rest of the officers and ship's crew were below.
"Any use trailing in with the crowd?" asked Fuller, indicating the men engaged in loading the vessel.
"I think not," replied Tressidar. "We'll mark time until the skipper puts in an appearance, only I hope he'll come on deck before our man arrives."
Presently a short, rotund man skipped agilely up the gangway. The sub. rightly concluded that he was the pilot, for as he gained the deck the mate sung out an order and the crew emerged from the fore peak. A little later the skipper came on deck and made his way to the bridge, where he remained for some time in animated conversation with the pilot.
Meanwhile the hatches were secured and the last of the stevedores returned to the shore. Half a dozen passengers boarded the ship, but whether the spy was amongst them Tressidar was unable to determine. He wished he had taken the risk of having a look at the fellow while he was conversing with the count.