The sea was comparatively calm and quite warm. If it had been anything but a shipwreck, our young men would have enjoyed the experience. They congratulated themselves that they had trusted to their own endurance and the life preservers rather than to the crazy boats when they saw one of the overloaded vessels come within an ace of turning turtle.

The submarine was now on top of the water and was slowly steaming towards the scene of disaster. The boats made for the opposite direction as fast as the oarsmen could pull. They had not realized that all the submarine wanted was to destroy the pork and beef cargo. The hungrier the French army got the sooner they would be conquered by the Germans.

“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.”

“Same here!”

“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.

“Why were you going to Paris to sell such things? Would a country at war be a good field for such an industry?”

“But the country will not be at war long. We expect the Germans to have conquered in a short time, and then they will want many albums for the snapshots they have taken during the campaign. I have been sent as an especial favor by my company, who wish to honor me. I hate to think of all my beautiful books being sunk in the Hirondelle.” Jim looked so sad and depressed that the young officer offered him a mug of beer and urged him to try the Bologna sausage that was among the viands waiting for them.

Kent’s reason for going to Paris was received with open doubt. It was very amusing in a way that they should be completely taken in by Jim’s ingenuous tale of albums while Kent, telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, should be doubted.

“Going to Paris to bring home a young lady? Is she your sister?”

“No, she is a friend of my sister,” answered Kent, feeling very much as though he were saying a lesson.

“Do you know Paris?”

“Yes, I studied architecture at the Beaux Arts last winter.”

“Ah, then your sympathies are with France!”

“I am an American and my nation is remaining neutral on the war.”

“Yes, your nation but not the individuals! What were your intentions after finding the young lady?”

“To take her back to United States as fast as we could go.”

“Well, well! I am afraid the young lady will have to content herself in Paris for some weeks yet, as we are bound for other ports now. Make yourselves at home,” and with a salute the officer left them to the welcome meal which had immediately been furnished them after their ducking.

If the Kentuckians had had nothing to do but enjoy life on that submarine, no doubt they could have done it. They were treated most courteously by officers and men. The food was plentiful and wholesome, the life was interesting and conversation with the sailors most instructive, but Jim was eager to strike that blow against Prussia and it was extremely irksome to him to have to keep up the farce of being a book agent. Kent was more and more uneasy about Judy, realizing, from the sample of Germans he now came in contact with, that ruthlessness was the keynote of their character. They were fighting to win, and win they would or die in the attempt; by fair means or foul, they meant to conquer the whole world who did not side with them.

“Gee, if I don’t believe they can do it,” sighed Jim, as he and his friend were having one of their rare tete-a-tetes. “They have such belief in their powers.”

“Yes, they seem much more stable, somehow, than the French. Did you ever imagine anything like the clockwork precision with which this monster is run?”

“When do you reckon we will get off of her? We have been on a week now and I see no signs of landing us. I am always asking that human question mark, Captain von Husser, what he is going to do with us, and he just smiles until his moustache ends stick into his eyes, and looks wise. I feel like Hansel and Gretel and think maybe they are fattening us to eat later on. I am getting terribly flabby and fat,” and Jim felt his muscles and patted his stomach with disapproval.

“I’d certainly like to know where we are. You notice they never tell us a thing, and since we are allowed only in the cabin and on a certain part of the deck, we never have a chance at the chart. I wish they would let us bunk alone and not have that fat head in with us. This is the first time they have let us talk together since we got hauled in, and I bet some one is to blame for this.”

Kent had hardly spoken before a flushed lieutenant came hurriedly up and with ill-concealed perturbation entered into conversation with them.

“Gee whiz!” thought Kent. “I wish Jim Castleman and I knew some kind of a language that these butchers did not know. But the trouble is they are so terribly well educated they know all we know and three times as much besides.” Suddenly there flashed into his mind a childish habit the Browns used to have of speaking in a gibberish called Tutno. “I wonder if Jim knows it! I’ve a great mind to try him.” Putting his hand on his friend’s arm, he said quite solemnly: “Jug i mum, sank a nun tut, yack o u, tut a lul kuk, Tutno.”

“Sus u rur e!” exclaimed Jim, delightedly.

The lieutenant looked quite startled, wigwagged to a brother officer who was passing and spoke hurriedly to him in German. As German was worse than Greek to Kent and Jim (they had studied some Greek at school but knew no German) they did not know for sure what they were saying, but from the evident excitement of the two officers they gathered they had quite upset the calculations of their under-sea hosts.

“Gug o tot, ’e mum, gug o i nun gug, sus o mum e!” exclaimed Kent with such a mischievous twinkle in his eye that the two officers bristled their moustaches in a fury of curiosity.

“Yack o u, bub e tut!” was Jim’s cryptic rejoinder.

For the benefit of my readers who have never whiled away the golden hours of childhood with Tutno or who have perchance forgotten it, I reckon (being a Southerner myself, I shall say reckon) I had better explain the intricacies of the language. Tutno is a language which is spoken by spelling and every letter sounds like a word. The vowels remain the same as in English but the consonants are formed by adding u and then the same consonant again. For instance: M is mum; N is nun; T is tut; R is rur. There are a few exceptions which vary in different localities making the language slightly different in the states. In Kentucky, C is sank; Y is yack; J is jug. Now when Jim exclaimed: “Yack o u bub e tut!” he conveyed the simple remark: “You bet!” to Kent’s knowing ears.

Kent had opened the conversation by the brilliant remark: “Jim, can you speak Tutno?” and Jim had answered: “Sure!” Then Kent had come back with: “Got ’em going some!”

The Kentuckians were in great distress when they realized that no doubt the sinking of the Hirondelle de Mer had been reported in the United States and that their families must be in a state of doubt as to their whereabouts. They had requested the Captain to let them send a message if possible, and he had told them with great frankness that in war time the women must expect to be uncertain. Two more ships had been sunk since they had been taken on board, but they were kept in ignorance as to what ships they were or what had been the fate of the crew or passengers. They knew that some men had been added to the number of prisoners on board, but as they were kept in a compartment to themselves, they never saw them.

Between operations, when the submarine came up on top of the water and all on board swarmed on deck to smoke and enjoy the fresh air and sunshine, Kent and Jim were politely conducted down into the cabin after they were deemed to have had enough, and then the other prisoners, whoever they were, were evidently given an airing.

After our young men started their Tutno game they were never left alone one minute. Such a powwowing as went on after it was reported was never beheld. It was evidently considered of grave international importance. Once they found their keeper taking furtive notes. Evidently they hoped to gain something by finding out what the Americans were saying.

The plentiful food that had at first been served to them was growing more meagre and less choice. There was nothing but a small portion of black bread with very bad butter and a cup of coffee for breakfast; a stew of a nondescript canned meat and more black bread for dinner, and for supper nothing but black bread with a smearing of marmalade.

Jim’s superfluous flesh began to go and Kent got as lean as a grey hound.

“Pup rur o vuv i sus i o nun sus, lul o wuv, I rur e sack kuk o nun!” said Jim, tightening his belt.

It had been more than two weeks since the sinking of the Hirondelle and the young men were growing very weary of the life. Their misery was increasing because of the uncertainty they knew their families must be in. No respite was in sight. They could tell by the balmy air when they were allowed on deck that they were further south than they had been when they were struck, but where, they had not the slightest idea.

“The water looks as it does around Burmuda, but surely we are not over there,” said Kent in Tutno.

“The Lord knows where we are!” answered Jim in the same language.

“I wish the brutes would let us telegraph our folks, somehow. They could do it if they chose. They can do anything, these Prussians.” When Kent said Prussians in Tutno: “Pup rur u sus sus i nun sus,” the young officer whose turn it was to guard them whipped out his note book and examined it closely.

“Sus often repeated!” he muttered.