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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.
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