The crew had ceased cheering, but by their bearing it was quite evident that they were still labouring under the excitement of good news.
Pointing to a notice pinned to a board on the main hatchway, around which several men still lingered, the seaman, who had been told off to guard the prisoners, indicated that his charges should acquaint themselves with the information.
"What's it all about, Jack?" asked Leslie.
The message was the copy of a wireless report to the effect that German submarines had been successful in torpedoing two British cruisers of the "Chatham" class.
"Do you think it's true?" asked young Sefton anxiously, when the sub had translated the report.
"It may be a case of exaggeration," was the reply. "Of course, it is possible. At any rate, don't let these fellows see we are down-hearted. Keep a stiff upper lip, old sport."
Turning their backs upon the distasteful notice-board, the two prisoners strolled to the side, their guard following but making no attempt to prevent them.
The Kondor was not alone. About two miles on the starboard hand, and steaming rapidly, were the two Dreadnoughts that Sefton had noticed on the previous day. Behind were three light cruisers, while, still farther astern, six sea-going torpedo-boats were tearing along in that close formation beloved of German torpedo-flotilla officers.
As the flagship passed, she threw out a signal to the disguised Kondor, which was quickly acknowledged. At the relative rates of speed, it was certain that the battleships were overhauling the pseudo Gefle hand over fist.
Sub-lieutenant Sefton was witnessing part of the strategy of the German High Seas Fleet. It had ventured out with the express intention of luring Beatty's squadron in pursuit, knowing that the gallant Beatty would not decline the challenge. But, with admirable discretion, the British admiral made no effort to send the swift battle-cruisers in pursuit, merely contenting himself by ordering the light cruisers and destroyer flotillas to keep in touch with the retreating Huns.