morning while it was still dark, the
vessel glided between the breakwater of Ymuiden, and shaped a course
for the mouth of the Thames.

CHAPTER XXVIII

Almost Recaptured

"What's that light, Jan?" asked the Flight-Sub.

The _Hoorn_ was now well beyond the three-mile limit. Ross and his
fellow-passenger were standing aft, sheltering from the keen
south-westerly wind. The mate of the vessel was with them, the skipper
being on the bridge.

"Those lights?" corrected Jan. "They have been visible all the time.
They are the two white leading-lights to Ymuiden harbour."

"No, I don't mean those," said the Flight-Sub. "Away to the south'ard,
quite a mile from the harbour. See, it's showing again."

From the dunes a white light blinked thrice and then disappeared.

"I do not know," answered Jan gravely. He thought for a moment and
then said: "Half a mo'. I will speak to the skipper."

"Hanged if I like it," muttered the Flight-Sub. "I say, Trefusis, that
light blinking away looks very fishy. It would mean a fifty-pound fine
in England; but here, apparently, it is not objected to."

The skipper and the mate were talking rapidly. Both men were leaning
over the after side of the bridge-rails, with their eyes fixed upon the
dark shore from which the mysterious light flickered at regular
intervals.

"Light on the port bow," reported the helmsman. Both of the _Hoorn's_
officers turned just in time to catch sight of a steady white light
before it disappeared. Whatever its meaning, it was remarkable that
from that moment the shore light ceased to blink.

"Put out our navigation lamps, Jan," said the skipper. "Someone has
betrayed your English friends. Nevertheless I will do all in my power
to aid them. We'll steer south-west for an hour. Perhaps we may
outwit yon craft, whatever she may be, before dawn."

Ross and his companion were quick to note the alteration of helm. They
knew, too, that the removal of the steaming-lights was for the purpose
of baffling what must be, to a dead certainty, a German craft--a
submarine, or perhaps a torpedo-boat, since the latter frequently
ventured out of Borkum and crept stealthily towards the Schelde,
keeping close to the Dutch territorial waters in order to avoid being
snapped by the vigilant British destroyer flotilla.

Slowly the wintry day dawned. Anxiously the British officers scanned
the horizon. The low-lying Dutch coast was now invisible. All around
w