Already the water police were busily engaged in hunting up the absentees of the crew. Those who were gone away from the port on leave could not conveniently be recalled, and other men were drafted in to fill up the complement. Stores were being hastily dumped on board, the usual "red tape" formalities having perforce to be dispensed with. Fresh water was being supplied to the tanks by one set of hoses, while another pipe was in use filling up the double bottom petrol tanks with liquid fuel. Fortunately, owing to the fact that the night-firing had not taken place, the magazines were filled with quick-firing ammunition, and the delay occasioned by having to "ship powder" at one of the buoys in harbour was obviated. It was primarily on this account that the Frome was selected for the purpose of investigating the mystery enshrouding the Impregnable.
"I wonder if there will be a scrap?" asked the mid. "It's about time we had something exciting. What do you suppose is the matter?"
"Goodness only knows. You heard what Drake said," replied Fielding, as he struggled into his uniform with more haste than he usually displayed, for the sub. had the reputation of being a careful, deliberate man in the matter of dress, and gold lace won't stand rough usage.
"He said 'seized on the high seas,'" continued Cardyke. "By whom?"
"County Court officials, probably. Don't take it for granted that there's anything serious, Cardyke. We may be sent on a fool's errand. Ah! Here's Drake coming aboard!"
"A rummy affair, by George!" exclaimed the lieutenant-commander as he entered the wardroom, and threw a bundle of papers on the table. "The news came from the ss. Wontwash, an American tramp that put into Dover this morning. Her master reports that he was somewhere between the Owers and the Royal Sovereign lightships, the weather being thick. A temporary lifting showed him the Impregnable lying a quarter of a mile or so on his port bow, with a large cargo vessel, name and nationality unknown, lashed alongside with a considerable list to port. Two hundred yards astern of the Impregnable was a tug with red and yellow bands on her funnel—that's one of the Dutchmen, you'll remember. The tug was sinking by the head, apparently deserted. There was no mention of the second tug.
"Captain Emory, the master of the Wontwash, thinking that a collision had occurred, hailed to know whether he could be of any assistance, but to his surprise he was peremptorily ordered, in broken English, to sheer off.
"He complied slowly, he says, and before the fog shut out the Impregnable and the vessel alongside her he saw what he believed to be a number of small quick-firers being hoisted out of the latter into the cruiser, whose decks were swarming with men.
"Being without wireless Emory could not communicate with the shore until he came within signalling distance of the Royal Sovereign light. The lightship forwarded the report by wireless, and, allowing for errors in transmission, the story seems remarkably mysterious.
"The Admiralty is in a bit of a hole. Nominally the Impregnable, sold to a Dutch private firm, is beyond their control. The Dutch Government has been communicated with, and they are sending a destroyer to make inquiries. But since, by virtue of the conditions of sale, the cruiser is to be broken up, and not to be used as a vessel, we still hold a certain amount of authority over her, and my orders are to see that the terms of sale are complied with. Now, gentlemen, you know as much as I do about the business. We must find the Impregnable, take possession of her—by force, if necessary—and bring her back to port pending Admiralty investigation. All ready, Mr. Spanner?" he added, addressing the engineer-lieutenant.