"Yes," admitted Furst; "but what will happen after the war? Supposing the English treat us as mutineers and hand us over to Germany when peace is signed? What then?"
"And I, for another, wish to get back to my wife and children," exclaimed a mutineer of timorous fibre. "I vote we alter our course for Hamburg or Wilhelmshaven."
"And what then?" demanded Krauss scornfully. "There'll be questions asked. We will be put under arrest straight away and no doubt shot. That's not good enough."
"It will be all right if we throw these pigs overboard," said Furst, indicating the two officers, who were now both lying bound on deck. "We can say that they were swept overboard in heavy weather. We must all stick to the same tale. It will be of no use for anyone to betray us. We're all hand in glove in this business."
"Supposing an English ship of war does appear?" queried the timorous one. "We'll be sunk at sight. You know the way they have."
"We could submerge," declared Krauss loftily.
"And who will take command if we do," persisted the man. "I know of no one of us able to manage this boat under water. I'd rather take my chance and hoist the White Flag. Besides, haven't we English prisoners—officers—on board? They might help us if we treated them well."
"That is so," admitted Furst. "Meanwhile we'll steer east for Germany."
"Who is navigator?" asked a mechanic. "Do you know anything of navigation, Hans Furst?"
Furst was obliged to admit that he knew but little. Taking observations—a very necessary accomplishment when one has to thread a way through mine-fields—was beyond him.