"Little difference it made to Fritz, though, who seemed to take it quite as a matter of course that the British yachtsman should show his terror like a Wild West film drama heroine. On he stood, and when he came within hailing distance, a burly ruffian on the bridge--doubtless the skipper--shouted something in guttural German-English which I never quite made out, but which was probably some kind of warning or other. I don't think I saw any of my crew exactly 'Kamerading', but I needn't tell you that every man in sight was doing his best to register 'troubled passivity', or something like that. I had anticipated that I might not be in a position to signal his cue to R----, and so had arranged that he should keep watch from a cabin port, and to use his own judgment about the time of his 'entrance.' I was afraid to have him on deck all the time for fear the 'che-ild' might be subjected to too careful a scrutiny. R---- was just in flannels, understand, so there was nothing suspicious in his own appearance. He did both his play-acting and his real acting to perfection, neither overdoing nor underdoing one or the other. "The U-boat was close alongside, rapidly easing down under reversed propellers, before R---- appeared, just as natural an anguished father with a child as you could possibly ask for. Two or three of the Huns covered him with their carbines as he dashed out of the port door of the saloon--that one just behind you--but lowered the muzzles again when they saw it was apparently only a half-distracted parent trying to signal for the boat to come back for him and his babe. I have no doubt that there were some very sarcastic remarks passed on that U-boat at this juncture about the courage of the English male. _If_ there were, the next act of the coolest and bravest boy I ever knew literally forced the words down their throats.