He was awakened by a seaman shaking him vigorously. For some moments he was unable to realize his surroundings. Sleeping in the hot and almost fetid air had benumbed his brain. He felt fuddled, his eyes seemed strained and dim, his throat burned painfully.
"On deck for exercise," ordered the man, speaking in German.
Sefton staggered to his feet, feeling stiff and cramped in his limbs. Leslie was still asleep, and when disturbed took even longer than his brother to be fully aroused.
"By Jove," thought the sub, "if the crew are all like this, early morn is the time to catch them napping! Well, here goes."
The two captives followed their jailer through an oval-shaped hatchway, gaining the deck by means of a steel ladder.
Lounging on the long, narrow platform were more than a dozen men, some stretched upon their backs, others lying with their heads pillowed upon their arms, but in every case one hand was outstretched to grasp the stanchions. The precaution was necessary, for the boat was floundering heavily in the long, sullen rollers.
Instinctively Sefton gave a glance in the direction of the sun. It was now broad daylight. The orb of day, high in the heavens, betokened the fact that it was approaching the hour of noon. By the direction of the shadows cast upon the deck, it was now apparent that the U boat's course was a little east of north. Away on the starboard hand was a seemingly interminable range of frowning cliffs, the nearmost being but two or three miles distant. They were the rock-bound shores of Donegal.
Holding Leslie tightly by the arm, for the lad was not accustomed to the Atlantic swell, Sefton marched him up and down the deck between the after end of the conning-tower and the stern. Although the limited promenade was still further curtailed by the prone bodies of the crew, the latter paid no attention to the two prisoners.
On the platform surrounding the conning-tower was the unter-leutnant who had ordered their arrest. Scanning the horizon with his binoculars, he, too, seemed indifferent to the presence of the two Englishmen. With him, and stationed at a small wheel in the wake of a binnacle, was a quartermaster. The conning-tower hatchway was closed, owing possibly to the spray that literally swept the fore part of the submarine, and was flung high over the domed top of the "brain of the ship".
"Where are we now?" asked Leslie.