ll swooped across the view,
but apart from these, there was no sign of life or of land.

'Here, let's have a squint,' said Roy eagerly, and Ken gave way.

'Why, it's like a living picture show,' declared Roy. 'Gosh, I could sit
and watch it all day. But I say, can't other craft spot the periscope in
all this sunshine?'

'Not with this bobble on. At least not very easy,' said the observer, as
he took his place again.

'Where are we?' asked Roy.

'Somewheres in the Sea o' Marmora,' Williams answered. 'Just in the mouth
o' it, so to speak. I expect the old man'll keep pushing along up the
north coast, awaiting for them transports out o' the Bosphorus.'

'And you talk about its being dull, Roy?' said Ken with a laugh.

'Well, perhaps I spoke a bit hastily,' allowed Roy. 'I'll grant I'd like
to see us get our own back on some of those Turkish blighters. I haven't
forgotten last night yet, I can tell you.'

'You wait till we get our eyes on one, that's all,' said Williams,' and
you won't wait much longer.'

But the wait lasted longer than Ken and Roy expected. All that day G2
cruised slowly back and forth between the big island of Marmora, where the
marble quarries are, and the high coast of the European mainland, yet
nothing rewarded her vigilant watch.

There was nothing to do but sit about and yarn, and more than once Roy
told Ken that he wouldn't be a submarine sailor for any amount of 'hard
lying' money.

It was about four in the afternoon, and Ken had been taking a quiet nap,
for he had a lot of arrears of sleep to make up, when he was roused by a
sudden sharp order from Lieutenant Strang.

In an instant the drowsy interior of G2 wakened into sudden life, and Ken,
springing to his feet, moved forward to where Williams was standing near
the forward periscope.

'What's up?' he asked in a quick undertone.

'Craft in sight. Can't tell what she is yet.'

'A warship?'

'Transport, most like, but can't say yet. Sit tight. I'll tell ye when I
can see her a bit plainer.'

By the deeper hum of the engines, Ken knew that they had quickened their
speed. There was a sort of suppressed eagerness about all the twenty-five
men who composed the crew of the submarine. Ken longed to have a peep
through the camera of the periscope, but knew it was impossible.

'She isn't much,' said Williams at last. 'Just a tramp of twelve or
fourteen hundred tons. Still, she may ha' got troops aboard, and if she
ain't, it's grub or