It was the "bar two" that kept the "Antipas" and the rest of her consorts patrolling the wild North Sea, until news had been definitely received to the effect that the forlorn pair of Hun boats had done one of three things--had been sunk, captured or had contrived to slip through the cordon into a home or neutral port. For the next twenty-four hours nothing of incident occurred. The destroyer, maintaining her course within set limits as stolidly as a policeman on his beat, encountered little to attract the attention of her look-out. Every two hours she was in touch with her "next on station," and receiving the information that all was well and nothing doing she would starboard helm and retrace her course. "Yes, pretty tame," commented Tressidar in reply to a remark of Barcroft's, "but we are getting quite used to it. Yesterday's scrap came as a little tonic, although we didn't have so very much to do. Aubyn had the bounder well in hand already when we came up." "This youth," remarked Fuller, indicating the flight-sub, "is an optimist of the deepest dye. What d'ye think is his idea of penultimate bliss? Having dinner at a swagger hotel somewhere on the East Coast, with the blinds up and every available electric light switched on." "That shows, Mr. Barcroft," said the lieutenant-commander, "that you have a pretty firm belief in the fact that the war will be over some day--unless you are prepared to shell out to the tune of fifty pounds for an offence against the Defence of the Realm Act." "Heaven forbid, sir!" replied Barcroft. "But, personally speaking, I'm fed up with having to hang about ashore in utter darkness. It's necessary, of course." "Of course," echoed Tressidar. "It's part of the mess of pottage we received when we sold our birthright on that memorable morning when Blériot flew across the Channel. From that hour our insular superiority was threatened not by La Belle France, though. Only the other day----" A knock upon the door of the cabin, followed by the appearance of a messenger, interrupted the lieutenant-commander's narrative. "Orficer of the watch's compliments, sir," reported the man, "an' there's a Danish vessel; making to the nor'-west, distant three miles." "Very good--carry on," replied the skipper, and snatching up his cap he hurried on deck, followed by the trio of naval airmen. The Dane proved to be a two-funnelled, twomasted craft of about 3,000 tons. On the foremost funnel and along her sides were painted her national colours, while to leave no doubt as to her identity the words "Trone--Danmark" appeared amidships in letters six feet in height. "I've signalled to her to stop, sir," reported the officer of the watch. "Ah, there she goes--well, signalman?"