Above the whine of the wind past the tautened wire shrouds and sagging aerials came a long, low rumble.
"Gunfire!" he announced laconically, yet there was keen anticipation in his tone.
"Quick-firers," added the gunnery lieutenant.
"Suppose it's too much to expect—to find Fritz's battle fleet out?" remarked the navigator. "We'd shake 'em up a bit, I reckon."
The Commodore smiled at the subordinate's enthusiasm for a "hussar-stroke" of the light, swiftly-moving vessels against the heavily-armoured battleships of Germany.
"We'll think ourselves more than lucky if their light cruisers are out," he replied. "Lucky if there are only destroyers. If——"
He broke off abruptly to receive a message through a voice-tube.
"Good enough," he replied. "Increase speed to thirty-four," he ordered. "Keep her as she is, Quartermaster."
"Is it they, sir?" asked the gunnery lieutenant.
"Look-out has reported a smoke-screen dead ahead," replied the Commodore. "We'll be seeing the enemy ships above the horizon in a few minutes."