Again a display of palmistry. Leslie's hands, though grubby, were also unmistakably unused to rough work.

"How old?"

"Fifteen?"

"You lie."

"On my word of honour," declared Leslie.

"No matter," rejoined the unter-leutnant. "You old enough to fight.

Suppose----"

A hail came from the U boat. Herr Kapitan had mounted the platform in the wake of the conning-tower and was calling attention to the mist that was bearing down in detached patches. Already the rest of the fishing-boats were lost to sight.

"You go on board there," continued the German unter-leutnant, indicating the submarine. Then, turning to Old Garge, he added:

"We let you go. Too much trouble to sink your little fischer-boat, and you have no skiff. Stop here one hour. If you move or make signal, then we return and blow you to pieces. You onderstan'?"

Without condescending to notice Tim, who was watching the course of events with wide-open eyes, the unter-leutnant signalled to the two Seftons to board the submarine. Then, followed by his men, the Hun regained his own craft.

A minute later, with Jack and Leslie prisoners of war, the U boat slid quietly beneath the surface.

Old Garge obeyed instructions until the tips of the periscopes vanished.

Then he began to gather in the mainsheet.

"Trim your heads'ls, Tim," he ordered. "Us'll be off as hard as we can."

"How about the nets, grandfer?" asked Tim.

"Can bide," declared the old man as the _Fidelity_, gathering way, sped to give the alarm that another U boat had been active in the Channel.

Three-quarters of an hour later, the smack ran alongside one of the patrol-boats operating in Christchurch Bay, and reported the incident.

Quickly the news was wirelessed, and a regular fleet of swift motor-boats was soon upon the scene, while overhead a couple of sea-planes hovered, in the hope of detecting the shadow of the U boat against the white sandy bottom.

But in vain. The unter-leutnant's threat that he purposed remaining in the vicinity for an hour was a mere piece of bluff. Without loss of time, the submarine was running at her maximum submerged speed in a south-westerly direction, intent upon putting as great a distance as possible between her and the hornets whose activities had already taken a heavy toll from these modern pirates of the Black Cross Ensign.

U99 was one of the most recent type of _unterseebooten_. Possessing a great radius of action, she combined the roles of mine-layer and submerged torpedo-craft. She was one of nine detailed for operations in the English Channel, and, since the pa.s.sage through the Straits of Dover had long been regarded as "unhealthy" by the German Admiralty, the flotilla had been ordered to proceed and return via the Faroe Isles and the west coast of Ireland.

Although the U99 had disposed of her cargo of mines without mishap--several of the German submarines having been "hoist with their own petards"--her efforts had not met with marked success. Beyond torpedoing a tramp, and sinking another by gun-fire, she had failed to carry out the work of frightfulness that had been expected of her.

Having exhausted her stock of torpedoes, and making only one effective hit, she was on her way home.

After three hours of terrible suspense, when she found herself enmeshed in a net somewhere off the back of the Wight--a predicament from which she freed herself by means of the specially-devised wire-cutters on her bows--U99 was forced to come up for a breather early in the morning.

Provisions were running short, and the sight of the solitary fishing-smack tempted her commander to investigate, with the result that Sub-lieutenant Sefton and his brother found themselves in the unenviable position of prisoners in the hands of the enemy. More, they were cooped up in a wretched U boat, faced with the possibility of being hunted by their fellow-countrymen and consigned to Davy Jones in the undesirable company of a crew of piratical Huns.

No wonder that Jack felt like kicking himself for having embarked upon the ill-starred voyage in the smack _Fidelity_.

"Yes, by Jove!" he muttered. "Here's a pretty kettle of fish--and the lid on with a vengeance."

CHAPTER XXI--U99

During the first hour of their captivity Jack Sefton and his brother were left alone, locked in a narrow, ill-lighted compartment in the after part of the submarine. Overhead they could hear the ceaseless clank of the steering-gear, while the crowded s.p.a.ce within the hull echoed to the noisy clatter of the propelling machinery.

Outwardly calm, the sub was raging furiously. Yielding to his sense of discretion, and realizing the importance of rea.s.suring his young brother, he made a brave show at keeping up his spirits. On several occasions he had found himself in a tight corner, but now there was the humiliation of being captured in a most ignominious fashion, without being able to raise a hand in self-defence.

"Upon my word!" he remarked. "Really, Leslie, you will have something to remember. Experiences like this don't fall to the lot of many youngsters, you know."

"More exciting than that sc.r.a.p on Blackstone," rejoined Leslie. "Even George would have to admit that. Makes a fellow feel quite bucked. But what do they intend doing with us, I wonder?"

"Events will prove that," replied the sub gravely. "Recollect that we have to conceal our ident.i.ty as much as possible. These chaps must not be allowed to find out that I am a naval officer. Hark!"

A rasping sound, as the bolt securing the door was shot back, interrupted the conversation before Sefton had time to mature his immediate plans. The metal panel slid open and a petty officer appeared and spoke rapidly in German.

Drowned by the noise of the machinery, the words were inaudible, but by the man's gestures the prisoners clearly understood that they had to follow him. Along a narrow, steel-enclosed pa.s.sage, then through a maze of intricate machinery, the sub and his brother were conducted, until they found themselves in a small cabin almost immediately underneath the grating that formed the floor of the raised conning-tower.

"You will at once take off your clothes," ordered the petty officer.

At this unexpected command the brothers looked at each other in surprise. The order could not be ignored, despite its apparent inconsequence. However unwilling to submit to the indignity, the prisoners obeyed promptly.

Under the stern glare of the German petty officer, Jack Sefton stripped off his brown jersey, shirt, and singlet.

"Rough luck!" he muttered. "Now these brutes will tumble to it; my name is marked on each of these garments."

Which was exactly what the Huns were intent upon finding out, for, giving a keen glance at the tell-tale lettering, the petty officer without waiting for the rest of the disrobing process made his way aft.

Sefton was not long left in doubt, for presently an officer in uniform corresponding to that of a lieutenant-commander entered the cabin.

"So!" he exclaimed triumphantly, as he thumbed the pages of a British Navy List. "We fine bag have made. 'Sefton, John B. G.' That not the same as Smith, hein?"

The sub vouchsafed no remark. He felt horribly humiliated by his position and by the easy manner in which he had been bowled out. Also, he realized that now the chances of the prisoners being set on board a pa.s.sing vessel had been entirely knocked on the head.

"We take you back to Zhermany," continued the kapitan of the submarine.

"Day after to-morrow we land you at Wilhelmshaven at exactly nine o'clock."

The day after to-morrow--at nine o'clock. That would be Monday, and at that hour Sefton was due for "divisions" at Portsmouth Naval Barracks.

The irony of his position ate into his soul.

"If not, you will be a corpse at the bottom of the sea," rejoined the German pointedly. "Now get your clothes on, and take good care to yourselves behave."

The kapitan quitted the cabin, leaving Sefton and his brother to resume their garments. This they did in silence, for Leslie had noticed his brother's despondency and chagrin.

Except for the periods when they were ordered forward for meals, the prisoners were left severely alone. Of the pa.s.sing of time they had but a remote idea, since the sub had wisely left his watch ash.o.r.e before proceeding on the ill-starred trip in the _Fidelity_. Certain it was that, for nearly twelve hours, U99 remained submerged, running on her electric power.

Then she rose to the surface. The petrol engines were coupled up, and at an increased speed the submarine proceeded, in what direction Sefton had no idea. Without means of consulting a compa.s.s, and confined below, he was in total ignorance of the vessel's course.

At length, dead-tired, for neither of the twain had slept the previous night, Jack and Leslie threw themselves down on the floor. There was no need for bedding. The heat of the confined s.p.a.ce was too oppressive for that. For a long while the sub tossed uneasily on his hard couch, finally dropping off into a fitful slumber.