While the men were engaged in bringing one end of the hawser to the after "towing-bitts," McIntosh took the helm and began to run to starboard in order to close with the disabled lighter. He was working against time, for already the mist was upon them--the outflung tentacles of a bank of fog. With a range of visibility of three or four hundred yards, matters were somewhat complicated, but the manoeuvre of establishing communication with the helpless craft would be rendered fourfold difficult, should the baffling fog envelop the two boats. "All ready with the heaving-line?" shouted the Sub. "All ready, sir." Slowly, even for the low-speed lighter, McIntosh, made for the disabled vessel, which was now lying broadside on to the fairly confused sea. The Sub was cautious. Strange to the boat, he knew that there was a vast difference between the manoeuvring capabilities of an M.L. and a lighter, and with that fact in mind he displayed an excess of caution. Almost before he realised the danger, disaster came. Answering too slowly to her helm, No. 5 crashed heavily against the bluff steel bows of No. 6. Amidst the hiss of inrushing water, the two engineers scrambled through the smoke-laden atmosphere of the motor-room and gained the deck with the tidings that the sea was pouring in like a mill-race. And to add to the peril the fog was then enveloping the colliding craft. There seemed no doubt about it: No. 5 was sinking. Had she been struck anywhere but right aft, her heavy rubbing-strake would have saved her. As it was she had been hit in a vital spot--her engine-room. As luck would have it, both lighters drifted together, their metal-bound sides grinding and bumping in the agitated waves. Since No. 5 was evidently sinking, the only refuge for her crew was the deck of disabled No. 6. "Jump for it!" shouted McIntosh. "Every man for himself." Waiting till the last, the Sub snatched up his confidential papers, thrust them into the pocket of his oilskins, and, as the two lighters rolled heavily together, he made a flying leap for the deck of No. 6. He was not a moment too soon. At the next roll there was a gap of five or six yards between the two vessels. Separated by a freak eddy of the tidal stream, they increased their distance more and more, until the holed lighter, with her stern level with the water, was lost to sight in the fog. CHAPTER X THE SALVAGE SYNDICATE "WHAT'S your little game, Cumberleigh?" demanded the major. "Hanged if I can see what you are driving at." Lunch was over at Auldhaig Air Station. Most of the officers had drifted in twos and threes into the ante-room to seize the opportunity of enjoying a smoke before falling in on parade. The second-in-command and Captain Cumberleigh found themselves alone. "I may be mistaken, sir," replied Cumberleigh, "but I'm not at all sure about that fellow Fennelburt." "What d'ye mean, old thing? asked the major.