"Unless the east coast of England is too closely guarded," added the midshipman. "However, the fact remains that he was within an ace of getting clear. He swears he knows nothing about the unterseeboot, but that he had agreed with that skunk to put him on board a lugger."
"H'm; well, that's good enough for us. See anything, Parsons?" added Tressidar, addressing one of the seamen who had been told to keep a sharp look-out.
"No, sir; fancied I did, but it was a wash-out."
"Any of you men know how to hoot like an owl?" asked the sub.
"Yes, sir; I do," replied a tall able seaman, who in his youth had been a farm hand in the North Riding of Yorkshire.
"Very good; stand by, and when Parsons reports the submarine's signal—three cries of the curlew—do you hoot: once only, remember. The rest of you stand easy. I say, Greenwood, you might rummage up aloft and see if there's anything of an incriminating nature in the cottage. Make sure that all the blinds are drawn. I'll give you the word as soon as the strafed U-boat is sighted, if you don't finish before."
As a matter of fact the A.P. carried out his orders long before the submarine revealed her presence. It was within an hour and twenty minutes of sunrise—the tide being well on the flood—that the long-expected cry was faintly borne to the alert ears of the watchers.
Promptly the able seaman replied, and barely had the weird echoes died away when the sub. heard the muffled sound of oars being boated and the crunch of heavy boots on the dry kelp.
"Right you vos," exclaimed a guttural voice. "Lower der cans as fast as you vos like."
In reply Sub-lieutenant Tressidar whipped out his revolver and fired three shots in quick succession into the darkness. Then, with nerves a-tingle, he waited.