"You have been told by dese odder Ottomans then? What dey tell you, eh?"
Something in the fellow's tone gave Crosthwaite his cue.
"So you didn't get the submarine after all?" he asked.
Ahmed shrugged his shoulders.
"You know too much," he said. "I must find out de soldier what tell you about de Englis sailors who broke de wreck to bits, so no good to Ottoman."
"Look here, Ahmed," continued the Sub. "You asked me a question the other day. Now I want to ask you one. What happened to the rest of my men when we were taken prisoners?"
The man looked suspiciously at his questioner.
"Me no tell," he said slowly, "No can do. P'lap I tell if you say how many Englismans come to fight us on land. P'laps if dey too many we Ottomans no fight. Me no want more fight, an' plenty odders no fight."
Dick was sitting on the of his during the conversation. Now he stood up, erect and determined.
"Look here, Herr Major," he said sternly, hazarding the German's rank since the two captains had saluted the pseudo-Turkish seaman. "Don't try to bamboozle us. It can't be done. You haven't the pluck to sail under your own colours: you must needs pretend you're a Turk—and a precious rotten pretence it is. You told your pals you were going to have one more attempt. You've done so, and made a horrible mess of it. Now try your other plan; but take it from me, you've a couple of Englishmen to deal with. Clear out!"