Slinging his binoculars round his neck, Morpeth, with an agility that his ponderous frame belied, clambered to the domed top of the conning-tower, reckless of the fact that his weight was causing the frail metal-work to "give" ominously.
Bringing his glasses to bear upon a faint dot just on the horizon, Morpeth made a long and steady scrutiny.
"Merchant vessel—tramp, by the look of her—chased by a Fritz," he reported, "Unhealthy work—for Fritz. I'll keep her on my lee bow a bit. It's no use butting in too soon. Too much dashed hurry spoils everything."
At sixteen knots Q 171 held on, with the apparent object of joining in the chase and cutting off the fleeing merchantman. Quickly the chase came in sight—a bluff-bowed, wall-sided tramp, with an elaborately camouflaged hull.
"Confounded scheme that razzle-dazzle," commented Morpeth. "Meet three or four in a crowded waterway, and you begin to wonder whether you'll see mother again. Can't tell whether they are bows on, or what. Fancy we've got her cold, though. For'ard gun, let her have it."
The bow-chaser spat viciously, sending a shrieking missile within a hundred yards of the tramp, which, badly on fire aft, was still proudly flying the Red Ensign. Her funnel, hit about six feet above the deck, was showing signs of collapse, being supported only by the wire rope guys. Making a bare eight knots, she was evidently at the mercy of the pursuing U-boat, which, capable of doing eighteen on the surface, was slowing down after the manner of a cat playing with a mouse.
Q 171, firing rapidly, but deliberately planting her shells wide of the merchant vessel, now turned twelve points to port. This had the effect of bringing her into a decidedly convergent course with that of the U-boat. The latter, probably "smelling a rat," or taking exception to what appeared to be another of her kind "spoiling the game," edged away to starboard, at the same time hoisting a signal.
By the aid of the appropriated German Naval Code Book, Q 171's skipper deciphered the signal. It was a peremptory request for the pseudo U-boat to make her number and thus proclaim her identity.
This was easily done. A four letter hoist of bunting fluttered from Q 171's mast, giving the information that she was U 251 of the Imperial German Navy.
"This is my prize," signalled the dog-in-the-manger Fritz.