Clear of the land the tug cast off her tow and the felucca, renamed the "Georgeos Nikolaos," hoisted sail and bore away on an easterly course.
Nigel Farrar had no cause to regret his choice of the craft. The felucca was stiff, weatherly, sailed well, and for her type pointed high. Her sharp bows and clean run aft gave her a fair turn of speed, notwithstanding her large complement and heavy cargo. The sub's experience on board his father's yacht in those far-off pre-war days was proving useful, for he had not lost the art of getting every ounce out of a vessel under sail.
The warrant officer, the felucca's second-in-command, was also a good sailing man. Although belonging to the pukka navy, Mr. Gripper had had considerable experience in sailing cutters off the East Coast of Africa, where expeditions in search of slave-running dhows afforded plenty of excitement and danger, with a chance of a few tough "scraps" thrown in. The gunner was also a stern disciplinarian. Even on board the felucca he would have things run in proper Navy fashion, while with a view of keeping the "hands" out of mischief he had the little craft's deck holystoned and the ropes either neatly coiled or flemished.
It was he who had picked two "gunlayers 1st Class" from the "Zenodorus's" ship's company, men who were able to perform feats little short of miraculous with the merchant cruiser's six-inch quick-firers. Woe betide a periscope that incautiously poked its tips above the surface anywhere within two thousand yards if either Sampson or Claydon happened to be laying the guns. Whether they would be able to maintain their reputation with the four-inch weapons of the "Georgeos Nikolaos" remained to be seen.
With the exception of half a dozen British seamen beautifully disguised as Greeks all hands on deck were strictly enjoined to keep their heads below the top of the bulwarks, while whenever a vessel was sighted every one not in "fancy rig" was ordered below. Outwardly the felucca looked like a peaceful trader, but she had a stern and retributive duty to perform—to avenge a certain hospital-ship that had been wantonly torpedoed in broad daylight.
The day passed without anything of an untoward nature occurring. At sunset the wind dropped, and the felucca lay almost motionless. She was in no hurry to make any port in particular, and there was no need to make use of the motor. After dark the wireless aerials were sent aloft, while the operator stuck to his little cabin on the offchance of picking up an "S.O.S." message from a hard-pressed merchantman. Yet no such indication was received. The felucca might have been sailing the Mediterranean in peace time as far as the presence of German Unterseebooten was concerned.
Dawn of the second day found the "Georgeos Nikolaos" 120 miles east of Malta. The flat calm still prevailed, although the vivid red sunrise presaged dirty weather. The felucca was rolling sullenly, her lateen yards groaning dismally as they ground and thumped against the raking masts.
With a scarlet scarf bound round his head in place of his white-covered uniform cap, Farrar swept the expanse of oily sea by means of his binoculars. Presently he caught sight of an indistinct shape that looked much like a truncated cone, its distance from the felucca being not far short of three miles.
"See what you make of that, Mr. Gripper," he remarked, addressing the warrant officer, who was about to take over the watch. "Dead in line with that shroud; can you pick it up?"
The gunner took the proffered binoculars, hung his cap on a belaying-pin, and levelled the glasses in the direction indicated.