The German torpedo-boat made no sign of firing; she merely hung on doggedly in the wake of the motor-craft, slowly yet surely diminishing the distance between them. The haze had now lifted considerably, so that the range of vision extended for quite five miles. All around, save for the pursuing craft, the horizon was unbroken.
"Perhaps those chaps think that their rotten spy, Jules de la Paix, is on board," suggested Rollo. "They may have a prearranged plan to pick him up at sea."
"Should hardly think so," replied Kenneth. "It would have been easier for him to have run across to Dutch territory, if he hadn't the heart to remain at Antwerp during the bombardment. If that's whom they're after they'll be jolly disappointed."
"They'll spot our uniforms, if they haven't already done so," said Rollo. "I wish the beggars would be stopped by a submarine."
Kenneth did not reply. Seized by an inspiration, he grasped one of the two boat-hooks on deck, released it from its lashings, and tossed it overboard.
"What have you done that for?" asked his chum.
Kenneth pointed to the staff of the boat-hook. Weighted down by the gun-metal head, it was bobbing up and down in a vertical position some yards astern.
"That may give them a bit of a shock," he explained. "They may think it's a periscope of a submarine."
"It's much too small."
"Not when there are no means of comparing it with anything else. Look at it now. You couldn't say with certainty within a hundred yards how far it is away. Anyhow, we'll chance it."