"They would dry on us in this hot show," observed Kirkwood. "Suppose we are sent for?"
"Then we are," added the flight-lieutenant grimly. "We'll have to grin and bear it. All the same, I'm not going to act as a human clothes horse while my gear is drying, so here goes."
The German cook seemed anxious to oblige, in spite of a muttered protest from one of the crew.
"My broder on der 'Blucher' vos," he explained. "Englische him pick up and well treat. Him write an' tell me so. Thus your clothes make dry."
Although the hatchway was closed and secured the submarine was still running awash, lifting sluggishly as she forged ahead at a modest fifteen knots. A couple of hours passed, and no attempt was made on the part of the vessel's officers to interrogate their prisoners.
"For one thing we are clothed and, let us hope, in our right minds," observed Fuller as the pair redressed in their now dry clothing, dispensing, however, with their leather jackets, which were as stiff as a board and white with sea-salt.
"Much more of this would drive me out of my mind," protested Kirkwood. "Give me the freedom of the air any day. Suppose this old hooker bumps into a mine?"
"Pull yourself together, man," said the flight-lieutenant sharply. "It's all one big risk, I admit, but for heaven's sake don't give these fellows a chance to think we've cold feet!"
The A.P. stiffened his upper lip.
"By Jove, I won't!" he exclaimed.