"She's neither of 'em," explained Morpeth. "Sort of stray cat coming home. The ones expected to meet the submarine-cruisers are big ones--three hundred feet or thereabouts. This one's not more'n a couple of hundred. I'd slip a tinfish into her with the greatest of pleasure, only that would spoil the proper stunt. _Au revoir_, Fritz!" "Seaplane, sir!" shouted one of the crew. "Confounded nuisance!" muttered "Tough Geordie." "Get our decorations ready, lads, and look slippy about it." Two or three of the hands prepared to unroll a couple of square pieces of canvas. These were Morpeth's "decorations," or, in other words, the vessel's "aircraft distinction discs." On one side of the canvas were painted red, white and blue concentric circles--the British hall-mark for aerial efficiency. On the reverse were black Maltese crosses on a white ground--the symbol adopted by Hun aircraft. In both cases the same device showed on the deck of a ship denoted her either as a friend or foe. "Hun, sir!" shouted three or four voices in unison, when the rapidly approaching seaplane drew near enough for the crew of Q 171 to distinguish the Black Crosses on her wings. "Up with 'em!" shouted Morpeth. Dexterously "Tough Geordie's" decorations were unfolded and exhibited--one at the top of the conning-tower, the other just abaft the for'ard gun. Right aft the gun-layer of the concealed anti-aircraft weapon kept the sights trained on the approaching Hun, ready and eager at the word of command to let fly with a novel type of shell that on bursting would entail the immediate destruction of any aircraft within a couple of hundred feet of the point of detonation. "'Nother seaplane right astern, sir!" roared a seaman in stentorian tones. "Confound it!" ejaculated Morpeth. "What is their little game?" The anti-aircraft gun could have effectively silenced one seaplane, but the other would have turned and flown off to give the alarm. So impassively Q 171 held on, every man on board (except von Preugfeld and von Loringhoven, who were ignorant of what was transpiring) fervently hoping that the Hun airmen would take it for granted that she was a U-boat. With a rush and a roar the first seaplane dived steeply, flattening out and passing within fifty feet of the mystery ship's deck. Meredith distinctly felt the rush of air from her wake and could make out the goggled and helmeted heads of the observer and machine-gunner. The pilot behind his triple glass screen was invisible. The seaplane began climbing in vast circles, until it became a mere dot in the now sunlit sky. The second Hun, content with hovering at five hundred feet for nearly five minutes, also began climbing, and finally both disappeared behind a stratum of high, fleecy clouds. "Hanged if I like that!" remarked Morpeth. "They've probably mistaken us for one of the returning U-boats," suggested Wakefield. "In that case they've cleared off to report that the submarine-cruisers can repair to the rendezvous."