"Of course," echoed Tressidar. "It's part of the mess of pottage we received when we sold our birthright on that memorable morning when Blériot flew across the Channel. From that hour our insular superiority was threatened not by La Belle France, though. Only the other day——"
A knock upon the door of the cabin, followed by the appearance of a messenger, interrupted the lieutenant-commander's narrative.
"Orficer of the watch's compliments, sir," reported the man, "an' there's a Danish vessel; making to the nor'-west, distant three miles."
"Very good—carry on," replied the skipper, and snatching up his cap he hurried on deck, followed by the trio of naval airmen.
The Dane proved to be a two-funnelled, twomasted craft of about 3,000 tons. On the foremost funnel and along her sides were painted her national colours, while to leave no doubt as to her identity the words "Trone—Danmark" appeared amidships in letters six feet in height.
"I've signalled to her to stop, sir," reported the officer of the watch. "Ah, there she goes—well, signalman?"
The "bunting-tosser," with his telescope glued to his eye, called out the letters of a string of bunting that rose to the "Trone's" mast head. His mate, having written various cabalistic signs on a signal-pad (the numbed state of his hands prevented his making any legible letters), hurried off to consult the International Code Book..
"Is it necessary for me to heave-to?" was the significance of the Jane's signal. "I have been examined twice already."
"Then three for luck, you bounder!" chuckled Tressidar. "Signalman, hoist the International 'I D'."
I D—signifying the peremptory order, "Heave-to or I will fire into you," was a message not to be ignored. Patches of foam under the vessel's counter and streaming for'ard past her water-line announced that her engines were going astern in order to check her way.