The big steamer staggered and yawed right out of her course.
'Capital!' said Strang with strong approval. 'That's hashed her steering. Signal 'em to heave to, or the next will be in their engine-room.'
There were a few more scattering rifle shots, but the officers on the transport soon stopped that. The transport herself, with her rudder in rags, was out of all control. Her engines were stopped, and she lay sullenly waiting for her saucy little enemy.
Strang gave a sigh of relief.
'Glad they had the sense to shut up,' he said to Ken. 'If they'd gone on shooting I should have had to sock it into them, and I didn't want to break my promise to your old Pacha.'
The submarine, smartly handled as usual, glided up close under the tall side of the transport, and Strang hailed her in French.
A black-browed officer, with angry eyes, came to the rail, and answered in the same language.
'You have British and French prisoners aboard,' said Strang sharply. 'You will be good enough to put them all into a boat and send them across.'
'And if I refuse?' retorted the other.
'I shall shell you until you think better of it,' was the calm reply.