to
due south. The usual four knots of the _Kalkis_ had been exceeded owing
to the smoothness of the sea, which accounted for their arrival at this
position before six o'clock, when the captain would once more take
charge. Another thing was that from now on they would be on the course
of warships passing south from the great base at Mudros, the land-locked
harbour of Lemnos. The bosun came up again and reported thirty miles
from noon. Well, the log was about ten per cent. fast, so a note said in
the night order book. It was five-thirty now, which gave them
twenty-seven miles from noon or nearly five knots. That brought them due
south of Fripeti.

Mr. Spokesly looked at Plouff, who was looking at the fog with an
expression of extreme disillusion on his round face. And again at the
chart. There was nothing more to be extracted from either Plouff or the
chart. The pencilled line which indicated their course ended abruptly.
Where, then, were they bound? Keep on the course, the captain said. Mr.
Spokesly laid the parallel ruler against the line and produced it clear
across the chart. He stood up with a sharp intake of breath and regarded
the impassive Plouff, who looked down at the chart with respectful
curiosity.

"Say, Bos'," he began. "This is a funny business."

"What's a funny business?" demanded Plouff, looking round, as though
expecting to see something of an extremely comical nature being
performed. The pause gave Mr. Spokesly time to reflect. He cleared his
throat.

"The Old Man staying down there. He ought to ... but then he says
keep...."

"'Hold her on the course,' were his words," said Plouff obstinately,
adding, "Hasn't she got a clear road?"

"Yes ..." muttered the mate jerkily, "road's clear ... humph!" he stared
at the chart. "Oh, well! By George, I wish this damn fog would clear
away."

"What's the matter with the fog?" said Plouff. "We're safe in the fog,
ain't we? You can bet them _unterseeboats_ 'll keep in under the islands
this weather. Too much chance o' gettin' stove in," he added
sympathetically. The mate did not reply for a moment. He was very
uneasy. He studied the chart. Indeed, he could not get away from that
pencilled line running right into the Gulf of Smyrna. And Phyros was
south of Khios. He was tired and sleepy. Eight hours was a long while to
stay on the bridge. He would be glad when they got in. _Got in where?_
He stared again at the chart. And the Old Man locked in his room. Alw