A fat ober-leutnant, backed up by half a dozen armed seamen, held the bridge, the Japanese captain and deck officers being compelled to retire to the chart-room. A couple of arrogant unter-leutnants with much sabre-rattling, were herding the European male passengers on the port side of the promenade deck. The Japanese passengers they drove forward with every insulting expression they could make use of. It was the German officers' idea of revenge, for the fall of Kiau Chau, where the boasted Teutonic fortress had succumbed to Oriental valour, rankled in the breasts of the subjects of the All-Highest War Lord. Two German officers, apparently of the Accountant branch, had possessed themselves of the passenger list of the captured vessel, and were proceeding to call the names it contained. Each person on hearing his name had to step forward. "Denbigh, Frank," exclaimed one of the officers. Denbigh, standing erect, faced his captors. "Ah! Englander officer, hein?" queried the Teuton insolently. "Goot! More to say soon. Step there over, quick." The Sub obeyed. He realized that at times even passive resistance was indiscreet. "Stirling, Charles," continued the German. "Ach, yet anoder Englander. Unter-leutnant? Goot, a goot capture of Englanders we haf." "I'm a Scot--not an Englishman," protested Stirling. "No matter. The one is as bad as odder, if nod worse. Over dere," and he pointed to the place where Denbigh was standing. "We're marked down for something, old man," whispered Denbigh. "Yes, but listen. They're tackling O'Hara now." Sub-lieutenant O'Hara faced his inquisitor with a broad smile on his face. The Germans could not understand why a man should look pleasant in time of adversity. "Irish? Ach, goot!" declared the Teuton. "Der Irish not like Englischmans. When we Germans take London, Ireland free country will be." "You haven't got to London yet," remarked O'Hara with the perplexing smile still on his lips. "Already our Zeppelins hab there been. It is matter of time. Ach? Brussels, Warsaw, Bukharest, Cettigne--five capitals--all conquered." "How about Paris?" enquired O'Hara. "To say nothing of Calais. And who commands the sea? You Germans haven't a vessel afloat outside your own territorial waters." "Vot is dis?" asked the Teuton, pointing to the armed liner. His voice rose to a crescendo of triumph. O'Hara was temporarily non-plussed. Evidently something was at fault somewhere. How could a large vessel like that evade the strong cordon of British warships? "You're at the end of your tether, old sport," he said after a brief hesitation. "That ship will be at the bottom before another twenty-four hours." "You tink so?" almost howled the exasperated German. "You vill see. If she sink, den you sink mit her. Over dere." O'Hara rejoined his chums. A couple of armed seamen mounted guard over them while the work of investigation and pillage continued.