The Mayor of Fisherton, accompanied by the members of the Corporation, was engaged upon an official civic welcome to the surrendered U-boat. There were aldermen and councillors in blue and scarlet robes, in cocked-hats and "top-hats". Their wives, sisters, cousins, and aunts helped to swell the throng; while the gorgeously-attired mace-bearer and the portly town-crier, with his silver-plated bell, contributed their share to the splendour of the occasion. In the wake of the spectators was the town band; the musicians, having just completed a patriotic selection, were partaking of refreshment.
"Mind how you come alongside with that gadget of yours," sung out the Lieutenant in command of the submarine. "We've a terrific lot of camber, you know. If I were you I'd tie up alongside the quay. I'll show you round if you like, but there's a fine old crush already."
"We'll accept your invitation another day, thanks," replied Grainger, as the hydro-glisseur, with the ignition switched off, glided slowly and silently with the tide. "Nip ashore, Kaye, and make that rope fast!"
Moored stern-on to the granite wall of the quay, the hydro-glisseur bid fair to attract even more attention than the U-boat. Even the Mayor and Corporation delayed their departure to gaze upon the marine freak; while perspiring policemen strove in vain to keep back the Fisherton townsfolk and prevent them from unduly crowding upon the mayoral party.
"This is our little stunt," remarked Grainger. "Evidently people are curious to see us start up. We won't disappoint them. Stand by, Kaye, to cast off, but don't slip till I give the signal."
Suddenly the buzz of conversation on the quay was absolutely drowned by the appalling and deafening roar of the powerful engine and the deep bass hum of the whirling propeller. The next instant almost every hat in the wake of the rapidly-revolving "prop" was torn from it's owner's head and whirled aloft in the tornado-like back-draught. Scarlet and violet gowns flapped in the terrific blast like clothes hung out to dry on a boisterous day. In ten seconds a section of the crowd was swept aside like a portion of a cornfield falling under the action of a tractor reaper, while those of the spectators who were beyond the danger-zone rocked with merriment and shouted encouragement to the Marathon competitors for the runaway head-gear.
CHAPTER XXVI
Christmas Eve
"Six o'clock, sir, and a fine morning," announced Derek's batman, as he switched on the electric light, and handed the still half asleep officer a cup of strongly-brewed tea.