further flight.

A Jacob's ladder—a flexible wire arrangement with wooden rungs—had been lowered from the tramp's side. At one moment its bottommost end was swaying far from the vessel's water-line; at another it was pinned hard against her side according to the roll of the ship. Boarding was a difficult—nay, dangerous—business.

Standing with his feet wide apart on the stern-sheets grating, Webb awaited his opportunity. Then he became aware that his boot was touching something soft and endowed with life. To his surprise he found Laddie crouching under the seat.

Evidently the sheep-dog was under the impression that the boat was bound for the shore. He had contrived to leap into the cutter as it was on the point of being lowered, and, although the Sub had not noticed him, the boat's crew had seen and had winked at the presence of the canine stowaway.

"All right, my boy," thought Webb as he made a spring for the swinging ladder. "There you'll have to stop, I fancy. Now you're properly dished."

But the young officer was mistaken. Laddie waited until the last of the boarding party had gained the deck of the Douro, then, knowingly biding his time until the tramp had rolled away from the boat, he made a spring at the ladder and gained the deck.

"Good morning, senhor!" exclaimed the Portuguese skipper in very good English as he greeted the British boarding officer. "We are grateful for your assistance. Another five minutes and the Douro no more would be. I offer my respects to the brave representative of our ancient ally."

"Thank you, senhor capitan," replied Tom with a bow, for he was determined not to be outdone in courtesy by the grateful Portuguese skipper. "Yes, we have sent that submarine to Davy Jones, I fancy. But I have to convey the compliments of Captain Staggles of His Majesty's armed merchant-cruiser Portchester Castle, and to offer you any assistance that lies in our power. You have the 'NC' signal flying, I see."

"Yes," replied the skipper, grinning broadly and shrugging his shoulders in a manner peculiar to dwellers in southern climes. "The trouble, senhor, is this: down below in the fore-hold are six Germans—men sent on board from the submarine to place explosives in the hold. They are armed, we are not. Can you get them out for us?"

 

 

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