As the Pelikan swung round, the Actæon followed suit, both vessels being now on slightly converging courses and about six miles apart. It was a question as to which of the two was the speediest ship—a question, seemingly, that events only could prove.
The sun set. The short period of tropical twilight gave place to pitch-black night, for the moon, now two days after the full, had not yet risen.
On board the Pelikan all lights that might be visible from outside were extinguished, save for one white light shown aft. The pursuing vessel displayed no lights, but her approximate position could be fixed by means of the dull-red glow of the flames that issued from her three funnels.
"Do you think she's gaining, von Langer?" asked the kapitan anxiously, after an interval of almost unbroken silence as far as the officers on the Pelikan's bridge were concerned.
"I am not sure," replied the ober-leutnant. "We do not appear to be gaining on her. It may be that we are just holding our own."
"Unless we can shake her off completely before sunrise we stand little chance," said von Riesser moodily. "We cannot stand up to her. Those guns would send us to the bottom in a quarter of an hour, long before we came within torpedo range."
"If we had but a dozen mines, sir——" began Unter-leutnant Klick.
"It is no use wishing for what we haven't got," snapped the kapitan. "And what is more, yon English ship is taking good care not to follow directly in our wake in case we were dropping mines."
There was silence for some moments. Von Riesser was deep in thought, his eyes fixed the while upon the lurid red tint on the horizon.
"Ach!" he exclaimed. "I think I have it. Here, Herr Klick, see that the motor launch is cleared ready for lowering."