The Japanese captain was expostulating, firmly and in a dignified manner. He pointed out the inhumanity of sending women and children adrift in mid-Atlantic and under a tropical sun. His protests were in vain.
"We will send a small vessel to pick up the boats," retorted the German lieutenant. "We will not sink a small one purposely. A little discomfort will do these English good. You yellow apes are used to it."
The Japanese accepted the direct insult without signs of emotion. The disguise of his feelings was a national trait, but it would have gone hard with the arrogant Prussian had the captain of the Nichi Maru not been hampered with a crowd of non-combatants.
"Now, Englishmen," exclaimed the German. "Into that boat. Any trouble make and you dead men. Ach! You smile now: your trouble it only has just commenced."
CHAPTER II
The Last of the Nichi Maru
In silence the three Subs left the doomed Nichi Maru and entered the waiting boat. At the word of command the men pushed off and rowed towards the modern pirate.
The disguised vessel had now swung round and was lying motionless at a distance of two cables' length from her prize. The hull was painted a light yellow, with a broad black band. Her funnels were buff with black tops. On her stern were the words, Zwaan—Rotterdam.
"She's no more the Zwaan of Rotterdam than I am," cogitated Denbigh.