Lord! a thing like that might do anything with a fleet,
and whatever Power owns it may just as well have a hundred as one. Look
here, Castellan, I'm going straight into Scarborough. This is a lot more
important than the Dogger Fleet. There's the _Seagull_ at Hull. She can
relieve us, and Franklin can take this old coffee-grinder round. You and
I are going to London as soon as we can get there. Take the latitude,
longitude, and exact time, and also the evidence of the watch if any one
of them saw it."

"You think it's as serious as that?"

"Certainly. It's one of two things. Either that thing belongs to us or
it belongs to a possible enemy. The Fleet, even to a humble fishery
cruiser, means the eyes and ears of the British Empire. If that belongs
to the Admiralty, well and good; we shall get censured for leaving the
ship; that's the risk we take. If it doesn't, the Naval Board may
possibly have the civility to thank us for telling them about it; but in
either case we are going to do our duty. Send Franklin up to the bridge,
make the course for Scarborough, get the evidence of any of the watch
who saw what we have seen, and I'll go and make the report. Then you can
countersign it, and the men can make theirs. I think that's the best we
can do."

"I think so, sir," said the Lieutenant, saluting.

The Lieutenant-Commander walked from port to starboard and starboard to
port thinking pretty hard until the navigating lieutenant came to take
charge of the bridge. Of submarines he knew a good deal. He knew that
the British navy possessed the very best type of this craft which
navigated the under-waters. He had also, of course, read the aerial
experiments which had been made by inventors of what the newspapers
called airships, and which he, with his hard naval common-sense, called
gas-bags with motor engines slung under them. He knew the deadly
possibilities of the submarine; the flying gas-bag he looked upon as gas
and not much more. The real flying machine he had considered up till a
few moments ago as a dream of the future; but a combination of submarine
and flying ship such as he and Castellan, if they had not both been
drunk or dreaming, had seen a few moments ago, was quite another matter.
The possibilities of a thing like that were absolutely limitless,
limitless for good or evil, and if it did belong to a possible enemy of
Britain, there was only one conclusion to be arrived at--The Isle
Inviolate would be inviolate