s marked by a lantern held by a stout and sleepy
sergeant.

By this time U75 was making for the open sea. Kapitan Schwalbe was
cursing loudly; not because the luckless agent had been hit--it was his
fault for not making sure of his ground; not so much on account of the
loss of two more men, nor of the sinking of the only boat belonging to
the submarine. His anger was aroused at the knowledge that once again
his efforts to obtain fuel had been balked. The quantity contained in
forty tins was a mere fraction of the amount he required in order to
carry out his ambitious programme. Bitterly he realized that, like
those of transgressors, the ways of modern pirates are hard.

CHAPTER X

A Treacherous Plot

A ragged volley of musketry followed the departing submarine. One
bullet mushroomed itself against the steel conning-tower; another
zipped through one of the guard-rails. The rest either flew harmlessly
overhead or ricochetted from the surface of the placid water.

Nevertheless the firing was a signal for the crew to hasten below.
Kapitan Schwalbe and the Unter-leutnant disappeared with ignominious
speed within the conning-tower. The men, bending low, bolted for the
fore hatch. In twenty seconds the deck of U75 was deserted save for
Ross and Vernon, who, padlocked to the stanchion, were unable to move
six inches in either direction. They were only partly screened by the
rise of the conning-tower. A sharp splinter from the bullet that had
splayed against the steel wall cut cleanly through Vernon's coat sleeve
and inflicted a slight gash in the lad's forearm, yet in the excitement
he hardly noticed it.

"I say, old man," exclaimed Ross, as a wave slapping against the
submarine's bow threw a shower of spray over the two prisoners. "What
will happen if they submerge? It seems to me as if old Schwalbe has
forgotten us."

"He would have dived before this if he intended so doing," replied
Haye. "Ten to one he's going to pay us out for attempting to take
French, or rather German, leave. It's jolly cold and mighty
uncomfortable, but we'll keep a stiff upper lip and show him what we
are made of."

"With all due deference to you, old chap," rejoined Trefusis, his teeth
chattering as the keen wind played upon his saturated garments, "I
would far rather be without this badge of German kultur." He indicated
the chain that encircled his ankle. "I don't think that you can hold a
brief for Kapitan Schwalbe.