“No use talking about it, Morgan,” he said, “but I never took my money out of my clothes. I had a couple of pounds besides silver.” “Too bad.” “And that is not the worst. I had papers and letters. Some things in the letters from my father I wouldn’t want many folks to see--and especially a Hun. Father is going to take a big sum in cash with him on the _Redbird_ when he sails for Bahia. Gold, Morgan--thousands and thousands of dollars in gold coin.” “Whew!” “Some prize for a Hun U-boat! And think of my folks and your sisters aboard the _Redbird_! It’s going to worry me until I know this scoundrel is captured and I get back my papers.” CHAPTER VI--WORK AHEAD When the four Navy Boys and their friends came over the summit of the hill behind the English seaport which the Zeppelin had so recently raided and where it had come to grief, the bomb-set fires in the town had become controlled. Even the conflagration at the point where the Zeppelin had fallen was now entirely smothered. Fortunately neither the marine hospital nor the port admiral’s headquarters had been hit by the Hun bombs. The first named was crowded with refugees from merchant ships sunk by the Hun submarines or blown up by floating mines. Almost daily the remnants of the unfortunate crews were brought in; for by this time the Germans had begun shelling the boats as they escaped from sinking ships, striving to carry out their master’s orders, “that no trace be left” of such breaking of the international law agreed to long since by all civilized nations. But if the hospital was not hit, damage enough had been done in all good conscience. The crowds were gone from about the wrecked Zeppelin and from the bombed schoolhouse. The shelling of open boats at sea was not a greater crime than the indiscriminate dropping of bombs on this unfortified town; and the wiping out of that school teacher and her pupils could never be forgotten. Phil Morgan turned his eyes away from the place, shuddering as he thought of the horror. “Let’s go down to the admiral’s station--there where his white ensign flies--and report about the spy escaping from us,” Whistler said. “And explain how he’s dressed,” Al Torrance added. “For let me tell you, that chap, speaking English and all, and dressed like one of us Yanks, will cause a lot of trouble.” “I’d like to get something decent to put on myself,” grumbled George Belding. “Tee, hee!” giggled Ikey Rosenmeyer. “You don’t look any more like one of these farmers than nothin’ at all!” “Must say,” grinned Whistler, “the clothes don’t become you, George.” “You go fish!” snapped the unfortunate. “I hate to show up aboard and face--who’s your boss, Lieutenant Commander Lang, isn’t it?” “Cracky! Yes,” Al said. “And you are billed for the old _Colodia_? Say, the boys will give you a welcome!” “How did you come to get billeted to the _Colodia_?” Whistler Morgan asked curiously. “You came over on your father’s yacht?”