e bowl of a
supplementary periscope, so that a vision of what was taking place
could be obtained without going into the conning-tower.

The alley-way terminated at another broadside torpedo-room, the pairs
of tubes pointing in the opposite direction to those the lads had just
seen.

Beyond were the living-quarters of the crew, kept spotlessly clean and
tidy, yet Spartan-like in their simplicity. Two of the men were sound
asleep in their bunks. Three more, who were playing cards at a plain
deal table, glanced up from their game as the British lads passed by;
but their interest was of brief duration, and stolidly they resumed
their play.

Stooping down to avoid a large metal trough--the "house" for the
for'ard 105-millimetre disappearing gun--Ross and his chum arrived at
the ladder by which they were to gain the open air.

The hatch-cover was thrown back. For the first time during their
captivity they made the discovery that it was night. Looking upwards,
they could see a rectangle of dark sky twinkling with stars that, with
the slight motion of the submarine, appeared to sway to and fro.

The cool night breeze fanned their heated foreheads as they gained the
deck. For some time, coming suddenly from the glare of the
electrically lighted interior, their eyes were blinded. They could see
nothing but an indistinct blurr of star-lit, gently heaving water.

Gradually the sense of vision returned. They found themselves on the
fore-deck of the unterseeboot. They had made up their minds to see a
turtle-back deck with a narrow level platform in the centre; instead
they found that the deck was almost flat and, in nautical parlance,
flush, save where it was broken by the elongated conning-tower topped
by the twin periscopes and slender wireless mast.

Lying on the deck in all conceivable attitudes were most of the
U-boat's crew, taking advantage of a brief spell on the surface to
breathe deeply of the ozone-laden atmosphere.

Not a light was visible on board. Even the hatchway by which the lads
had gained the deck was constructed to trap any stray beam from the
brilliant glare below.

Miles away, and low down upon the horizon, a white light blinked
solemnly; then after a brief interval it was succeeded by a red gleam.
This in turn was followed by white again.

Trefusis, with a sailor's inborn instinct, began to count the
intervals. Although having no means of consulting the only
time-recording watch in the po