"That's what we've been wanting to fall in with," observed the Hon. Derek. "Starboard a little, Quartermaster. Lay me alongside that vessel." CHAPTER XXXII "Taken down a Peg" The fishing-boat, according to the name painted on her stern, was the _Stor Afan_, of Carlscrona. The only member of her crew visible was a fair-haired youth of about fourteen, who was listlessly standing by the wheel. She was making a bare two knots under scandalized mainsail and jib. The rest of her canvas was stowed. The youthful helmsman, happening to glance astern, caught sight of the approaching submarine. His lethargy vanished, and at his shout of alarm the rest of the crew came hurriedly on deck--a weather-beaten old man and a tall stripling of about twenty years of age. With her pair of for'ard guns manned and trained, for even the most harmless-looking smack might prove to be a potential enemy, R19, taking care to avoid the line of nets, ran within hailing distance of the Swede. "_Stor Afan_ ahoy! I want you to take two men aboard you," hailed the Hon. Derek in German. The skipper of the boat shouted something unintelligible in reply, and shook his head in a way that suggested helpless ignorance. Stockdale repeated his request with a like result. The second hand, however, held up a basket of fish. "Evidently a bribe," remarked Mr. Macquare. "They don't understand Hun lingo, sir." "So much the better for us, then," rejoined the Hon. Derek. "It's a good thing we are not displaying our ensign; they'll take us for a strafed U-boat, and when they make harbour they'll report to that effect. It will help to throw the Huns off the scent." Greatly to the consternation of the Swedes, R19 was adroitly manoeuvred alongside the _Stor Afan_, the crew of the latter making fast the ropes thrown them with the utmost alacrity. It was not until they saw the still-unconscious form of the German bluejacket being hoisted through the torpedo hatchway that anxiety gave place to sympathetic attention. As carefully as possible the Hun was transhipped to the deck of the fishing-boat and taken thence to the little cabin. The spy, Mindiggle, was next handed over. His appearance was greeted with renewed apprehension on the part of the Swedes, which was not to be wondered at, for he presented a gruesome spectacle, notwithstanding the Hon. Derek's precaution of keeping him under the influence of morphia. Gibbering and foaming at the mouth, Mindiggle was led to the forepeak, and, with the battening down of the hatchway, the spy passed from Fordyce's view for the last time. "I don't know whether we are acting up to the principles of the kultured Hun," remarked the Hon. Derek as he gave the old skipper a handful of silver roubles. The Swede took them with obvious hesitation, and pointed towards the invisible German shore.