"Hardly," replied Wakefield. "Unless it were a general mutiny amongst the submarine fleet, and this one were left behind. No, it's not that."
"Then what do you think?" asked the Sub.
"A booby-trap, possibly. If so, then Morpeth's stunt is off. I'll see what he says."
The late skipper of M.L. 1071 went up to the R.N.R. officer and saluted—as he always did when on deck.
"Yes," admitted "Tough Geordie" gloomily. "I'm afraid that it's a booby-trap. Those seaplanes, too, rather support the theory. And there are no signs of the submarine-cruisers. If nothing turns up by noon I'll torpedo that packet and leg it home at the rate of knots."
"Any objection to my boarding her?" asked Wakefield.
"None, as far as I am concerned," replied Morpeth, "provided, of course, you take all reasonable precautions. I'll be ready in case of an accident, but I must insist upon your taking a volunteer crew."
A boarding-party was quickly forthcoming, consisting of Wakefield, Meredith, an armourer's mate, and two bluejackets. Launching the collapsible dinghy, they approached the U-boat, while Q 171, her concealed torpedo-tubes bearing on the former's hull, was ready to frustrate or at any rate to avenge any attempt upon the boarding-party.
A rope ladder trailed forlornly over the U-boat's bulging side. This Wakefield studiously avoided, making for the after-part where the long tapering stern dipped beneath the surface.
He hailed in German. No reply came from the apparently deserted craft, which was fretting at her cable in the now strong tideway.