Wakefield's brows lowered. There was an ominous glint in his eye.
"I give you five seconds," he said darkly. "Otherwise, if you refuse to tell me, back you go on board U 247. I might add that she is sinking. Now: one... two... three... four—-"
"I tell you!" exclaimed von Preugfeld. "All I tell you. Der offizier he try to escape. He vos shot. It is der rules of der war."
"Unfortunately for the statement," interposed Captain Cumberleigh, "I heard from one of your men that you landed him early this morning."
"In dat case," rejoined von Preugfeld, shrugging his shoulders, "why you ask me? You take der word of a common sailor instead of a Prussian offizier—a von Preugfeld? I tell you he lie."
Wakefield turned his back upon the bullying Prussian.
"It's evident that there was no other British officer on board," he remarked to his companions. "We'll go into the matter later. Come along, if we are to see the last of U 247."
The door was locked upon the prisoners, and the three officers hurried on deck. Q 171 was forging ahead, moving in wide circles around the sinking pirate craft.
By this time the U-boat had dipped her stern. Waves were lapping along her deck as far as the after quick-firer. Her stem was correspondingly raised until the bow tubes were visible above water.
Higher and higher rose the submarine's bows. Tons of water were flung into her hull through the open after-hatch. Compressed air was hissing loudly. Little rivulets of iridescent oil were forming on the surface. Occasionally interior fittings, giving way under the ever-increasing pressure, creaked and groaned to add to the discordant noises of the sinking craft.