is chum were not allowed for'ard, where the quick-firer
was already in position for opening fire. They were ordered abaft the
conning-tower, the hatch of which was open.

Kapitan Schwalbe's head and shoulders could be seen projecting above
the opening. On the raised grating surrounding the conning-tower,
stood a boyish-looking Unter-leutnant. Hermann Rix was nowhere to be
seen. Apparently his duties compelled him to remain below.

Presently the quick-firer barked, and a projectile struck the water
about a hundred yards from the starboard side of the pursued vessel.
With the discharge of the gun, a sailor hoisted the black cross ensign
of Germany from a small flagstaff aft, while a signal in the
International Code ordering the British vessel to heave to instantly
fluttered from the light mast immediately abaft the conning-tower.

The only response from the chase was the hoisting of the red ensign,
for previously she had shown no colours. Slowly, defiantly, the
bunting was hauled close up, and ironically "dipped" three times.

Again and again the submarine's bow-chaser fired. The shells were well
aimed as regards direction, but all fell short. Imperceptibly the
merchantman had increased distance.

"Look at the fools!" Ross heard the Kapitan remark, as he kept his
binoculars focused on his intended prey. "They are trying to snapshot
us. Are all Englishmen so blind to peril?"

"Are you sure they haven't a couple of quick-firers mounted aft, sir?"
asked the Unter-leutnant. "There are several men gathered round
something on the poop."

"Himmel, I hope not!" ejaculated Schwalbe. "But no; had they any guns
they would have opened fire before now. What is the matter with our
gun-layer? It is about time he got a shell home."

The Unter-leutnant lowered himself on the foredeck, and shouted angrily
at the seaman whose duty it was to "lay" the bow-chasers. The man
again bent over the sights.

This time the shell pitched ahead of the chase, but slightly to port.
Some of the spray thrown up by the projectile fell on board.

"Is that the best you can do, you brainless idiot?" shouted Schwalbe
wrathfully. Now that he was in pursuit he was loath to be baffled, but
at the same time he realized that the submarine was using a lot of
precious fuel and a prodigious amount of ammunition without any
definite result.

In the midst of his torrent of abuse directed upon the luckless
gun-layer, Kapitan Schwalbe suddenly s