IT was two days later that the "Georgeos Nikolaos" ran under the stern of the "Andromeda," and the astute von Loringhoven had detected the raison d'être of what appeared to be at first sight a nondescript Mediterranean trading felucca. In happy ignorance of what had occurred the "Georgeos Nikolaos" carried on with a fair amount of success, never turning the tables on a U-boat until she was practically certain of making a proper job of the business.
On the thirteenth day after leaving Malta the felucca turned her bows westward. Provisions were showing signs of running short, while the crowded state of the little craft made it undesirable to keep the seas for any great length of time.
With a following wind the "Georgeos Nikolaos," carrying all sail, footed it merrily. Provided the breeze held, another five days ought to see her safely in the Grand Harbour.
"We haven't done so badly, sir," remarked Mr. Gripper, pointing to the heads of five brightly polished brass nails which were driven into the tiller, each nail representing a "bag." "Although I says it as shouldn't, it's something to be proud of. We may get another Fritz to-day. It's our thirteenth day out, and thirteen is my lucky number."
"Is that so?" asked the sub, not with any particular display of enthusiasm. It was the mere idea of being able to talk that prompted him, for beyond a few necessary orders Farrar hardly exchanged a word when the warrant officer was not on deck, for the medico, being of a very retiring nature, spent most of his leisure hours below, "swotting" at scientific books.
"Fact," declared the gunner vehemently, as if wishing to push home an unacceptable truth. "I entered Greenwich School on the thirteenth, an' got my warrant rank thirteen years later. It was November 13th, two years ago, when we torpedoed the German light cruiser 'Pelikan,' and my share of the prize money, awarded thirteen months later, was £130, which is ten times thirteen. So I'm in hopes of pulling off something to-day."
"Let's hope so," added Farrar.
"Hope so, sir? It's more than a question of hope. There, didn't I say so?" he added as a seaman raised the shout of "Submarine on the starboard bow, sir."
There was no doubt about it. Quite four miles away, but showing up clearly in the slanting rays of the rising sun, was a large submarine running on the surface, although the curvature of the sea permitted only the conning tower to be visible.
"She's heading this way—straight for us," said the gunner gleefully. "Wonder if it's her thirteenth day?"