"Gentlemen!" observed Pyecroft facetiously. "The R.A.F. Salvage Syndicate is dissolved."
With her guns still trained upon the lighter, U 247 approached slowly and with evident hesitation. At the back of von Preugfeld's mind lurked the haunting suspicion that X 5 was a snare. The very temptingness of the bait increased his suspicions. Perhaps a British submarine was lying in wait to blow him and his U-boat to atoms; or somewhere in the clouds a coastal airship was floating motionless, awaiting an opportunity to swoop down and let loose an aerial torpedo before the Germans had time to close hatches and submerge.
On the other hand, there was von Preussen, clad in a British R.A.F. uniform and standing seemingly unconcerned upon the lighter's deck. Surely, if there were a trap, the Hun would contrive to make a mute signal to his compatriots.
Von Preussen gave none. He was content to let events take their course.
Presently U 247 reversed engines and brought up within half a cable's length of the barge. Clambering upon the raised platform abaft the conning-tower, the kapitan raised a megaphone to his lips.
His delivery of English was execrable, but he was unaware of the fact. He rather prided himself on the knowledge that he could speak the language, having learnt it from a third-rate German professor in a minor university in the Fatherland.
"You vos surrender make!" he shouted. "It all of an instant up is mit you. Get into der leedle boat and put you yourselves on board dis scheep. If you drouble giff, den we shoot."
"Right-o, old bean!" hailed Cumberleigh in reply.
Von Preugfeld was puzzled by the reply. Mentally he resolved at the first opportunity to consult Volume II (Ba-Cu) of a British Encyclopaedia that he had on board.
"Look you pointed about it!" he exclaimed angrily. "I you give half a minute to quit der boat."