"Well, my friend the book agent, what do you think about swimming in the direction of the enemy? Remember we are Americans, just plain Americans with no desire to do anything in the way of swatting Prussians.--Neutral noncombatants!" said Kent, swimming easily, the life preserver lifting him so far out of the water that he declared he felt like a bell buoy.
"Yes, I'll remember! My line is family albums and de luxe copies of Ruskin. I hope those poor devils in the boats will make land or get picked up or something."
"Me, too! If the sea only stays so smooth they can make a port in less than a day, if they don't come a cropper. We are almost in the English Channel, I should say, due south of the Scilly Islands."
"Well, I feel as though I belonged on them--here we are shipwrecked and floating around like a beach party, conversing as quietly as though it were the most ordinary occurrence to book agents and damsel seekers!"
"There is no use in getting in a stew. I have a feeling that the Germans are going to pick us up. They are heading this way and I don't reckon they will let us sink before their eyes. If they don't pick us up, we are good for many hours of this play. I feel as fresh as a daisy."
"Thank God, there weren't any women and children on board!" said Kent fervently.
"Yes, I was feeling that all the time. I'd hate to think of their being in those crazy boats."
The German boat was quite close to them now. The deck was filled with men, all of them evidently in great good humour with themselves and Fate because of the terrible havoc they had played with the poor _Hirondelle de Mer_, who was now at her last gasp, the waves washing over her upper decks.
"_Wei gehts?_" shouted Jim, raising himself up far in the water and wigwagging violently at the death dealing vessel.
It was only a short time before the efficient crew had Kent and Jim on board, in dry clothes and before an officer. The fact that they were Americans was beyond dispute, but their business on the other side was evidently taken with a grain of salt by the very keen looking, alert young man who questioned them in excellent English.
Jim was quite glib with his book agent tale. He got off a line of talk about the albums that almost convulsed Kent.