"Do you know what is wrong, sir?" asked Denbigh, addressing one of the Japanese officers who happened to be making his way aft.
The Jap shook his head. Like most of the Nichi Maru's officers he spoke English. The question was plain to him, but with Oriental reticence he politely evaded it.
"I'll get my glasses," announced O'Hara.
"And mine, while you are about it," said Denbigh.
"And mine, too," added the Scot.
O'Hara quickly returned with the desired articles. Bringing their binoculars to bear upon the smudge on the horizon the three Subs made the discovery that there was a two-masted, three-funnelled vessel lying apparently hove-to. Smoke was issuing from her after-funnel in dense clouds, that rose slowly in the still sultry air.
"She's flying an ensign," remarked the Irishman.
"Yes, straight up and down like a wet dishclout," added Stirling. "For all the good it's doing it needn't be there."
"Perhaps her propeller shaft is broken," suggested one of the passengers, an English merchant who had given up a good position in Tokio to return home in order to "do his bit".
"Hardly," replied Denbigh. "She's bound to be a twin screw, and it isn't likely that both engines would break down."