the sea is so rough that I do not believe
we could transfer you, even if we met one of your own craft."

"Denmark isn't such a bad country," Dave laughed, pleasantly. "I've been
there. And you're mighty quick people. It didn't take you long to rope
and haul me on board."

"Because our second officer had a man in his watch who used to be a
cowboy in your country, and he can handle a lariat well. Travelling
through these dangerous waters we always carry a line forward with a
noose at one end. You're the third man we've roped out of the water in
six months."

"But what was that first line that was thrown overboard--I mean the one I
grabbed and held on to?"

"There was a bucket at the end of that rope," the ship's surgeon informed
Dave. "The deck-hose is out of order, and a sailor threw the bucket over
to haul up water with which to wash down the passageway."

"I'm thankful he made the cast just at that instant," Dave murmured.

"Providence must have directed the cast," replied the doctor. "And it
wasn't your time to die."

"I've no right to die, if I can possibly prevent it!" Dave rejoined
warmly. "I'm only a small-fry officer, to be sure, but even at that I'm
needed, like every other trained American officer, until Germany has
been taught the great lesson of law and morality."

"Amen to that!" agreed the doctor, fervently.

"You're not pro-German, then, like so many of your countrymen?" Dave
asked, with a smile.

"There are few of us who are pro-German in Denmark," replied the ship's
surgeon. "Though, until your Entente allies can protect us against
powerful Germany's wrath it is not prudent for us to be too outspoken in
favor of England, France and America."

"From your accent you've been in our country?" Dave hinted.

"I took my degree in an American medical school, but I am a Dane. And
now, sir, your name?"

"David Darrin, lieutenant-commander, United States Navy."

"And I am Dr. Valpak. And now, Mr. Darrin, I advise that you rest your
mind, eat what I am going to order sent here, and then take another nap."

Dave gladly ate of the sea biscuit and soup that were brought to him,
after which Dr. Valpak felt his pulse, administered a drink of something
with an unfamiliar taste, then uttered the professional command:

"Sleep!"

Dr. Valpak closed the door from outside. Dave closed his eyes, and
enjoyed the luxury of another nap.

CHAPTER VIII

DAVE MEETS THE FATE OF THE SEA

IT was almost