"Here, sir," replied the seaman.
"I hold you responsible for these Englishmen. Now they are trying to give us the slip. Take them below. But hold on. Secure them to a stanchion. Chain them up, and bring me the key."
The seaman approached the lads almost apologetically, and led them to the port side just for'ard of the conning-tower. A light steel chain was hitched round Ross's right ankle and Vernon's left, and deftly padlocked round one of the uprights supporting the hand-rail.
"It is of no use trying any of your pranks here," commented Kapitan Schwalbe, still in a low tone. "You are only looking for trouble."
For several moments all was still, save for the screech of a benighted gull. Overhead a meteor passed swiftly across the sky, throwing a pale gleam upon-the lurking submarine.
"Wer da?"
The words, although uttered in an undertone, travelled distinctly over the placid waters of the cove.
The sailor in the boat muttered some inaudible reply. The listeners in the submarine could detect the sound of his oars as he laid them across the thwarts. Then, after further conversation, could be heard the rumble of metal as the tins of petrol were rapidly placed in the boat.
"How many are there?" asked Kapitan Schwalbe eagerly as the men returned with the first load.
"Forty here, Herr Kapitan. Altogether there are over two hundred."