At the same time an uneasy thought came to Joe.

“If we go up and leave Blake alone with this fellow, may not something happen?  Perhaps he’ll attack Blake!”

But that thought no sooner came than it was dismissed, for, Joe reasoned, what harm could happen to his chum, who was well able to take care of himself?  True, the Frenchman might be armed, but so was Blake.  Then, too, there could be no object in attacking Blake.  He had little of value on his person, and the films and cameras were not in the stateroom.  And there were no films of any value as yet, either.

“Guess I’m doing too much imagining,” said Joe to himself.  “This fellow may be a plotter and a spy in German pay—­and I haven’t any doubt but what he is—­but I reckon Blake can look after himself.  Anyhow, he wants me to leave Secor to him, and I’ll do it.  But not too long!”

So Joe and Charlie, taking the small camera with them, went up on deck.  There they did find an unusual lifeboat drill going on.  The danger zone was now so close that Captain Merceau and his officers of the ship were taking no chances.  They wanted to be prepared for the worst, and so they had the men passengers practise getting into the boats, which were lowered into the water and rowed a short distance away from the ship.

The women and children, of whom there were a few on board, watched from the decks, taking note of how to get into the boats, and how best to act once they were in their places.

“Going to film this?” asked Charlie of Joe.

“No, I think not,” was the answer.  “It’s interesting, but there have been lots of drills like it.  If it were the real thing, now, I’d shoot; but I’m going to save the film on the chance of getting a sub or a torpedo.  This is a sort of bluff on the part of you and me, anyhow.  Blake wanted to get us out of the cabin while he tackled Secor, I reckon.  What his game is I don’t know.”

“I can come pretty near to guessing,” said Macaroni, as he stretched his lank legs, which had, in part, earned him the nickname.  “That fake lieutenant is planning some game with the German spy, that’s his game.”

“Maybe,” admitted Joe.  “But I don’t see how we figure in it.”

“Perhaps we will after we’ve gotten some reels of valuable film,” suggested Charlie.  “Don’t crow until you’ve ground out the last bit of footage.”

“No, that’s right.  Look, that boat’s going to spill if I’m any judge!”

Excited shouts and a confusion of orders drew the attention of the boys and many others to a lifeboat where, amidships on the port side, it was being lowered away as part of the drill.  There were a number of sailors in it—­part of the crew—­and, as Joe and Charlie watched, one of the falls became jammed with the result that the stern of the boat was suddenly lowered while the bow was held in place.

As might have been expected, the sudden tilting of the boat at an acute angle threw the occupants all into one end.  There were yells and shouts, and then came splashes, as one after another fell into the ocean.