Between latitude 54° 10' and 57° 24' North, and longitude 1° and 6° 7' East (from Greenwich), a huge sand-bank lies under the waters of the North Sea, midway between England and Denmark. It is called the Dogger Bank, and affords extensive fishing-grounds which are frequented by all sorts of craft, from a wherry to a thousand-ton steamer. Here the Hull fleet set their trawls, and, with lights twinkling from bow and mast-head, toss and swing at their anchors through the long hours of the night. Every pilot in the United Kingdom, and on the coasts of the adjacent European states, knows of these trawlers and plots his course to avoid them in crossing the North Sea. The admiral of the Baltic fleet either forgot them entirely, or recklessly took the risk of their lying in the path of his heavier ships.
As the night—an unusually dark one—of October 21st closed in, the Hull fishermen were anchored as usual over the Dogger Bank. There were half a dozen or more of them, and before midnight their number was increased by one—a low, black hull like their own, which brought up just north of the main group without attracting attention.
The lights of the Kiku—for the newcomer was no other than the disguised destroyer—were made to conform exactly to those displayed by the trawlers. No one could have taken her for a war-ship, with her big fourteen-foot Whitehead torpedoes waiting to be unleashed behind their canvas tompions.
Far away to the northward a light twinkled in the darkness; another, and another.
"Slip the cable," ordered Oto quietly, not daring to recover his anchor lest the noise of the chain and pawls should be heard. "Clear decks for action!"
A low hum of voices sounded through the ship. Bare feet pattered to and fro as the decks were cleared, the guns were run out, screens removed, and ammunition hoisted. All this had been done in repeated drill until the men knew exactly where to place their hands in the dim light afforded by carefully shielded lanterns.
"Cast loose and provide!" "Load!"
The orders were in a strange tongue, but varied little from those taught at the Annapolis Academy. Like some black kraken of old, crouching for a spring at its approaching prey, the Kiku silently awaited the approach of the Baltic war-ships. Across the water from one of trawlers came a rough sea-song from the English sailors at their work.
Nearer and nearer came the great battle-ship leading the fleet, the flag-ship of the vice-admiral. A much smaller vessel, corresponding in class to the Osprey, scouted at a little distance to the west.