The junior officer agreed. He had hoped that the Norwegian might prove to be a gun-runner or a disguised German commerce destroyer, or anything, in fact, that might have afforded a little excitement and a chance for a run ashore.
"I s'pose we'll just keep on footling about here till the blooming war's over," he growled. "Then someone'll wake up suddenly and discover that there's an obsolete destroyer with a crew of greybeards beating about the Irish coast."
But he was wrong there, as events soon proved. A couple of hours after Lawless had boarded the Norwegian steamer, a wireless message was received from the Captain of the cruiser-scout, Trojon, inquiring if a vessel called the Krajero had been sighted.
"Tell him 'yes,' and that, after examining her papers and cargo, I allowed her to proceed," said Lawless to the operator.
The message was duly transmitted, and a few minutes later a reply came:
"Captain of Trojon to Commander of Knat. Have stopped steamer Krajero, and, on examination, found that beneath her cargo of grain was a large number of mines, which she intended sowing in the Channel."
"Well, I'm damned!" ejaculated Lawless when he had read the message.
"No promotion this trip," commented Trent grimly.
Lawless, who was almost dancing with rage, tore the paper into shreds and cast them to the four winds of heaven.
"It'll be the talk of the Fleet!" he cried. "Every mother's son from the stokers to the Admiral will be sniggering over it, curse them. It shan't happen again, though! I'll search every boat I meet, from a dinghy to a liner. Lord, to think I've been bamboozled by a swab of a make-believe Norwegian skipper with a six-inch grin across his mug!"