I am not so sure about it that he is not
going to dive."

U75 dipped as he spoke, submerging her fore deck almost to the base of
the conning-tower. Then, with a double cascade of water pouring from
her, she shook herself free, throwing her bows high above the surface.

A man, gripping the stanchion-rail as he made his way knee-deep in
water, came towards the two prisoners. It was Hans Koppe. He had
obtained the Kapitan's permission to release his charges from their
uncomfortable position.

"Hold on tightly as you go aft," he cautioned. "There is hot coffee
waiting for you below."

It was impracticable to descend by means of the fore hatch. That means
of communication had already been closed and battened down, owing to
the constant flow of water over the bows. Even the after hatch, in
spite of the protection afforded by the conning-tower and the raised
coaming, was admitting water into the interior of the submarine.

Cold, exhausted, and hungry, the lads were glad to be able to eat and
drink, discard their wringing-wet garments, and turn in. Without
waking they slept solidly for ten hours. It was one in the afternoon
when they turned out. U75 was rounding Land's End. She was submerged,
steering a compass course, but frequently showing her periscope to
ascertain her whereabouts. Already the Longships Lighthouse was broad
on the port beam.

It was a tedious, discomforting run from Land's End to The Lizard. The
Mounts Bay fishing fleets were out, a circumstance that compelled the
submarine to keep below the surface. Kapitan Schwalbe knew that once
the alert skippers of these boats sighted even the tip of the
periscope, the news of the presence of a hostile submarine would be
quickly sent to the naval authorities at Devonport. The necessity for
secrecy also prevented him from making use of the wireless: not that
the message would be deciphered, but because the origin of the message
could be fixed with comparative certainty by any of the British
wireless stations that "picked up" her call.

The approaches to Plymouth Sound, too, gave Kapitan Schwalbe a bad
time. Far beyond the Eddystone, and from Looe Island to Bigbury Bay,
armed trawlers and torpedo-boats patrolled incessantly, their movements
aided by sea-planes. It was almost a matter of impossibility for a
hostile submarine to approach Plymouth Sound by daylight, since the
aeroplanes were able to discern any sinister object moving under the
compa