With a rush and a roar the first seaplane dived steeply, flattening out and passing within fifty feet of the mystery ship's deck. Meredith distinctly felt the rush of air from her wake and could make out the goggled and helmeted heads of the observer and machine-gunner. The pilot behind his triple glass screen was invisible.
The seaplane began climbing in vast circles, until it became a mere dot in the now sunlit sky. The second Hun, content with hovering at five hundred feet for nearly five minutes, also began climbing, and finally both disappeared behind a stratum of high, fleecy clouds.
"Hanged if I like that!" remarked Morpeth.
"They've probably mistaken us for one of the returning U-boats," suggested Wakefield. "In that case they've cleared off to report that the submarine-cruisers can repair to the rendezvous."
"Let's hope you're right," added Morpeth. "Once I bag those submarine-cruisers, I'll take my chance with the seaplanes."
He rapped out an order to the quartermaster.
Round swung Q 171 until she steadied on a course that would bring her once more within a short distance of the U-boat they had sighted soon after dawn.
She was practically in the same position, but had swung with the change of tide—a fact which indicated that she was riding at anchor.
For full half an hour Morpeth kept her under observation, but no sign of life was visible on board.
"Another mutiny?" queried Meredith.