"For all you know, that Blake may be as harmless as a baby."

"Sure," agreed Morgan. "But what's he doing out in that boat, and what
is the boat itself doing out here? She's headed off shore--and you saw
she was loaded. The water almost lapped over her rail."

"Well?"

"She surely isn't headed for the other side of the Atlantic," Whistler
declared. "Yet she's aiming straight out to sea right now. She isn't
following the coast any longer."

It was a fact. Although the strange power launch was now at a great
distance, it was plain she was leaving the land behind her. There was
no land in that direction save the European coast.

"You believe she's a supply ship for German subs?" asked Torry.

"Or taking out gasoline or oil to put aboard some Swedish or Norwegian
ship that expects to give the cargo to the Germans at some rendezvous in
the North Sea. That isn't impossible, Torry."

"Just the same I fancy you are hunting a mare's nest," his chum
declared.

Torry--nor the other Navy boys--was not apt to call in question
Whistler's judgment. But on this occasion it seemed to him as though
Morgan was shooting wild.