"Watch below, all hands!" he exclaimed cheerily. "We'll sleep like logs. To-morrow, my dear Detroit, we'll wake up and find ourselves close to a picturesque little German village, and you can go ashore and buy fresh milk and new rolls. Think of that, and dream on it, old man."
Detroit merely nodded. He was already half-asleep. Before the Sub was ready to turn in, his companion was breathing heavily. Five minutes later the crew of the Diomeda were fast asleep, heedless of the peril that overshadowed them.
CHAPTER IV
Arrested
The bump of some heavy object against the yacht's side caused both sleepers to wake simultaneously. It was day; a dull light filtered through the skylight, though not strong enough to be caused by the sun. The Diomeda was rocking sluggishly in the slight swell as she rode to her cable.
"Eight o'clock, by Jove!" exclaimed Hamerton drowsily; "and drizzling with rain, I fancy. What was that noise?"
"We won't find out by lying here," said Detroit, setting the example by springing out of his cot. As he did so came the unmistakable sound of a boathook engaging the little craft's rigging screws, and a peremptory voice hailed in German.
"Custom-house people. They're early," announced the Sub. "It won't do to keep those gentlemen waiting, so I will interview them in my pyjamas."
Pulling back the sliding hatch, and pushing open the half-doors, Hamerton went on deck. Lying alongside was a grey cutter manned by seamen whose cap ribbons and blue-and-white jerseys, showing between the V-shaped opening of their jumpers, betokened them to be man-o'-warsmen of the Kaiser's navy. In the stern sheets sat two fair-haired officers—their chief characteristics fiercely upturned moustaches.
"What ship is that?" asked the elder of the two officers, whose gold-lace distinction marks showed that he was a lieutenant-commander.