"Yes," nodded Fernald. "Had the waves been longer, the mine would have sunk to its usual depth. Had it not cost lives and a good ship, it would have been a sight worth seeing. As it was, since the lives and the ship had to be lost, I am glad that I was there to see it." It was broad daylight now. Red streaks off in the east indicated that the sun would soon appear. But from the southwest something of at least equal interest appeared in the sky. At the lookout's call Fernald turned to study the object in the sky through his glass. "It's an airship, a dirigible," announced the executive officer. "If an English dirigible, then it's all right," Dave nodded. "But, if it happens to be a German Zeppelin returning from a raid over England, then it will become our solemn duty to get the anti-aircraft gun in position and pray for a chance to take a fair shot." "It's a craft of the smaller English dirigible pattern," Fernald announced, still studying the distant speck in the sky, which, of course, looked much larger in the field of his glass. "Yes, it's an unmistakable 'blimp'." This latter is the slang name given to the British dirigibles. "Better have the air-craft gun men at their station," advised Dave, and this was done. Ten minutes later, however, the "blimp" was so close at hand that there could be no mistaking its identity. It belonged, beyond a question, to one of the squadrons of the Royal Naval Air Service. "Radio message from the 'blimp,' sir," called a messenger, darting from the doorway of the wireless room. "Do you wish a written copy, sir?" Lieutenant Fernald glanced at Dave, who shook his head. "Let's have the message orally," Fernald called down to the deck. "'Blimp' wants to know, sir, if these two craft are the 'Grigsby' and 'Reed.'" "Tell the operator to admit the fact," Fernald ordered. "Officer in charge of the 'blimp,' sir, says that he was to report and help you yesterday, but that the weather was too foggy." "Tell the operator to send back: 'Good morning. Glad to have you with us. Signature, Darrin,'" Dave directed. The seamen and petty officer at the anti-aircraft gun left their station. Straight onward came the "blimp," dropping much lower just as it passed over. From the car beneath the big gas-bag several men leaned over to wave friendly hands, a greeting that was instantly responded to by Dave's and Dan's jackies, for the dirigible, after sailing over the "Grigsby," turned and floated over the "Reed." "Message from the 'blimp,' sir," again iterated the messenger on the deck. "Message says: 'We're to keep near you and try to spot submarines for you.'" "More power to your vision," was the message sent back by Dave. "You're working northward, toward the shoals?" asked "Blimp." "Yes," Darrin acknowledged. "That's a likely place to find one or two of the Hun pirates resting," "Blimp" continued. "Always a good hunting ground," Dave assented, in a radio message.