CHAPTER III

The Bomb in the Hold

"Well, that's a cool request," soliloquized Webb. "The old chap wants us to act the part of the cat, and hook the monkey's chestnuts out of the fire. All in a day's work, I suppose."

"Well

He glanced at the Portuguese skipper, who was anxiously awaiting the Sub's reply.

"It seems to me a simple matter," said Tom, "to clap on the hatches and carry them into the Tagus. We'll have to tow you, I suppose. There are several of your war-ships off Belem, and I fancy they'll be only too glad of a chance to collar a few Huns."

The captain of the Douro shook his head.

"Senhor, you do not quite understand. These pirates are armed. We are not. Moreover they threaten to blow up the ship."

"Very good," decided the Sub. "Unship the hatches. Stand by, men; take cover until we find out what these rascals intend doing. Laddie, you imp of mischief, keep to heel."

The dog obeyed, reluctantly. Already he had his suspicions that there was danger. His instinct prompted him to bound forward and grapple with the foe.

Deftly the fore hatchway cover was drawn aside. A ray of brilliant sunshine penetrating the narrow opening played with a pendulum-like movement into the dark recesses as the vessel rolled from side to side. The Sub deemed it safe to show himself, since the eyes of the imprisoned Huns were likely to be dazzled by the sudden glare.

"Now then!" he shouted sternly. "Do you surrender?"

"Nein," was the guttural reply; "we vos stop here. If you attempt to damage us do, den we der ship sink."

"All right, please yourself," rejoined Webb coolly. "Only remember, you'll be cooped up under hatches, and I need not remind you that it's a mighty unpleasant death, and you have only yourselves to blame for the consequences of your rash decision."

The trapped Huns conversed amongst themselves for 

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