With remarkable celerity an officer and half a dozen seamen appeared from below, while at the same time a quick-firer was raised from its "housing", for'ard of the conning-tower, and trained upon the luckless Fidelity.
Steadily the U boat approached within hailing distance, then, making a half-circle, slowed down on a parallel course to that of the smack.
"Fishing-boat ahoy!" shouted the German officer. "Cut adrift your nets and run alongside, or I'll have to sink you."
Old Garge gave a gasp of astonishment and looked enquiringly at Jack Sefton.
"Them nets cost a sight o' money," he exclaimed ruefully. "Now if I had a gun----"
"Hurry, there!" came the stern mandate from the U boat.
"You'll have to obey, I fancy," said the sub. "There's no escape. Perhaps they'll let you off, as the smack is only a very small one. If you give them any lip they'll cut up rough."
Deliberately Old Garge cut the trailing line of nets, bent the outward part to a life-buoy and cast it overboard. As he had remarked, nets were expensive affairs, and he was not going to cut them adrift without a means of recovering the gear should the Huns let him off lightly.
"Back your head-sails, Tim!" ordered the skipper, at the same time putting the helm hard down and allowing the Fidelity to come up motionless into the wind, within a couple of yards of the bulging side of the U boat.
"Throw us a line!" was the peremptory greeting.