"Mr. Barnard!" shouted Captain Cain.
The bo's'un doubled aft and saluted.
"What's that man doing on deck?" inquired the skipper angrily, pointing to Gerald Broadmayne, who, unobserved by the hands on deck, had come up from below and was watching the unusual sight.
"Dunno, sir," replied Mr. Barnard helplessly. "Both of 'em were sound asleep when last I looked in."
As a matter of fact, the bo'sun, in the excitement of the one-sided enjoyment, had completely forgotten about the presence of the two strangers on board. He had omitted to lock the door between the men's quarters and the vestibule immediately underneath the base of the conning-tower.
"All right, let him alone," decided Captain Cain, as he reflected grimly that now the cat was out of the bag, his involuntary guests would have to remain on board at all costs, until the termination of the cruise, wherever and whenever it might be.
"So that's the game, is it?" thought the Sub. His searching eyes quickly took in the evidence of the incriminating surroundings—the quick-firer trained abeam, with a still smoking shell-case lying close to the mounting; the French ensign floating over a vessel whose crew were British and, for the most part, West-country folk; the men all armed with automatic pistols; least and not last a boarding party on their way to the disabled German liner. "Piracy—out and out piracy."
Like those of the Alerte's crew who remained on board, Broadmayne found his interest centre on the boat containing Pengelly and his armed companions.
Before the boat had ranged up alongside the Cap Hoorn, the German crew had lowered the accommodation-ladder.
Headed by Pengelly, the boarders ran up the ladder. At the gangway they were met by the captain and several of the officers of the captured vessel; while gathered at a respectful distance were about thirty of the crew and those of the passengers whose curiosity had overcome their timidity.