As the Zeppelin was being guided on to the turntable a fragment of the plugging material fluttered to the ground. A breeze caught it and swept it towards the edge of the turntable pit. There it stopped, provokingly out of reach even if the Sub had dared to stretch out his hand to grasp it.
Just then one of the sailors manning the trail ropes kicked the piece of packing. It fell literally into Hamerton's hands.
Hamerton and his comrade exchanged glances of satisfaction. They dared not speak. They realized that they had made a great discovery.
Directly the experimental airship was safely housed the men in attendance were marched off, presumably to breakfast, and the occupants of the machinery pit were able to discuss their find.
"It's cotton waste, right enough," said Hamerton.
"And asbestos fibre," said Detroit, plucking out a piece of core. "I suppose that renders the waste non-inflammable?"
"Hardly," replied the Sub. "Besides, how do you account for the stuff being gas-proof? It's as porous as a sponge."
Detroit put a small quantity of the stuff between his teeth.
"Ugh!" he exclaimed. "There's alum in it, and gum arabic in a viscous state, only this piece has got slightly dry. I guess I see the trick. They pack the space between the outer and inner skins with the stuff under pressure. There is not sufficient resistance to cause the shell to explode, therefore the projectile passes completely through, making only a small aperture that instantly closes behind. They made a severe test, for the Zeppelin was practically a captive balloon. Had she been travelling at from thirty to fifty knots at an uncertain range it would have been a difficult matter to get a shot home."
"Do you know what they were firing with?" asked Hamerton.
"A pom-pom, I should imagine."
"Yes, firing a one-pound shell, almost the identical weapon we mount on our seaplanes. Every blessed experiment these Germans make seems directed solely against the recognized means of offence adopted by the British Government."
"Shrapnel's the thing."
"Aye, coarse-charged with irregular pieces of metal in the place of the bullets used in shells when directed against troops. These Zeppelins, with their non-explosive hydrogen and their fireproof, shot-closing envelopes will be a tough nut to crack in the next war, I fancy. Look here, Detroit, old man, this stuff's worth keeping. We'll divide it into four parts, and wear it in our shoes like cork socks; then, if we are collared, we may stand a chance of keeping it in our possession."
While the two friends were thus engaged the dull boom of a gun fired thrice in quick succession struck their ears. This was followed by a bugle-call that Hamerton recognized as the "Assembly" of the German Army. This was taken up in other parts of the island till the whole garrison was aroused.
Hamerton glanced at his watch. It was just after seven o'clock, at which hour their jailers were wont to bring in the prisoners' breakfasts.
"They've discovered we've broken ship," he said. "Hans and company have found that our cells are empty. Now comes the fun."
It seemed as if the caves in the sandstone cliffs surrounding the Zeppelin station disgorged human beings, for within a few seconds of the alarm being given two hundred men were drawn up in divisions, while their officers were discussing amongst themselves the probable reason for the unexpected summons.
Up ran a portly sergeant-major. He was almost out of breath, yet he spoke in such a loud voice that the Sub was able to interpret every word.
"A message has just come through on the telephone, Herr Major," he announced; "those rascally English spies have escaped. The general orders are that all commanding officers shall post double sentries over all confidential posts; the rest of the men are to be employed in the search. No leave is to be granted until the spies are recaptured."
The major shrugged his shoulders. He was not at all pleased with the telephone message, since he had arranged to spend the following Sunday at Flensburg.
"Why have we not turned out the bloodhounds, sir?" asked a captain. "The scent must be hot."
"Ach, I know not!" was the reply.
"All the dogs were taken across to Sandinsel yesterday, Herr Major," announced another officer, a tall, fair-haired subaltern. "Colonel Dietrich wished to try the hounds on a trail laid on the sand."
"And, as a result, we have two English spies roaming over the island," added the major. Then, giving the order to march, he led the four companies under his command up the steep incline. "Now the fun commences," observed Detroit, when all seemed quiet once more. "Thank goodness they have no suspicions that we made our way here!"
"And it's lucky for us that the bloodhounds are away," rejoined Hamerton. "One never knows; they might be able to follow a trail in spite of a couple of ounces of pepper."
Before Detroit could express his opinion a deep baying sound came from the heights above.
Both men looked at each other as if to say: "We counted our chickens before they were hatched;" then, without a word, they made their way to a different part of their place of concealment whence they could command a view of the summit of the artificial cliffs.
Standing out clearly against the white drifting clouds were four large hounds. With their noses almost touching the ground they moved deliberately and unhesitatingly, while behind them walked a number of officers and men, the latter armed with rifles and bayonets.
The bloodhounds, keeping close to the brink of the abyss, gradually approached the spot where the inclined plane met the level ground of the tableland. Here they paused but for a brief instant; then they began to trot straight towards the fugitives' hiding place.
"They've tracked us right enough," muttered the Sub dejectedly.
"Goingto make a fight for it?" asked Detroit calmly.
Hamerton shrugged his shoulders.
"Hardly," he replied. "I don't believe in kicking up a fuss when we're cornered with no chance of escape. Mind you, if there were any possibility I'd fight tooth and nail. But there is not. We've had our fling, and I suppose we must pay the piper. Luckily those brutes can't get to us."
"I cotton to it," agreed the American. "I look upon it as a sort of Thanksgiving Day—a few hours of real enjoyment and then days of hard graft to follow."
Both men relapsed into silence, and gloomily watched the progress of events.
On came the hounds, the mob of excited Germans at their heels. Then the animals lost the scent—that is, if they ever picked it up—for turning abruptly they made their way across to the other side of the incline. Hamerton and his companion had never been near that part of the ground.
Round and round went the bloodhounds, sniffing and baying. Shouts of encouragement from their masters failed to meet with the response that they desired. Presently one of the large beasts raised its head and opened wide its mouth. The fugitives could see the sharp white teeth and the red, frothing tongue of the brute as it gave vent to a prodigious howl.
Then, followed by the rest of the hounds, the animal retraced its steps until it gained the summit of the slope. Here the baffled trackers stood still for a brief interval. All inducements to get the dogs to take up the scent failed, and dejectedly their masters led them back to the kennels.
"Excellent, by Jove!" exclaimed Hamerton in high spirits. "The pepper did the trick, after all. Obliging Hans! He deserves a special vote of thanks."
"Guess we aren't out of the wood yet," Detroit reminded him. "What's the programme now?"
"Stay here till night," replied the Sub. "Then more investigations and grub. Man, I feel as if I could eat a joint of beef straight away. Look here, we'll strip off these wet clothes and hang them up to dry in this draught. To continue wearing them in this state is to court disaster. There's a bin of cotton waste; we'll burrow in it and snatch a few hours' sleep. It's very necessary, I think."
These suggestions were acted upon. A few days previously the two men would have regarded their proposed bed with the utmost repugnance, but, as Detroit observed, circumstances alter cases.
In less than two minutes the fugitives were sound asleep, utterly indifferent as to what befell them. Rest and slumber were the only antidotes to hunger and bodily and mental fatigue.
"Time to be up," whispered Detroit, shaking his companion by the shoulder. Hamerton roused himself. It was still daylight without, although the sun had set. Ten hours had passed like as many minutes.
Quickly they donned their clothes, which still felt clammy to the touch. Another sparse and hasty meal was partaken of, during which Hamerton took stock of the surroundings.
Work for the day had apparently ceased. Each of the airship sheds had been closed by means of the sliding steel doors, and the vast artificial basin was deserted. With the setting of the sun the wind had risen, though the velocity was not so great as on the preceding night. The sky, too, was obscured with heavy clouds. Everything seemed in favour of the fugitives.
"Now, boss, what's the programme?" demanded Detroit, with forced jocularity.
"Wait till it's dark, then make our way up the incline, double back along the top of the cliff, and head towards the north-western part of the island. I shouldn't be surprised if we stumble across some more wonderful creations of our dearly beloved German cousins."
"But suppose there are sentries posted up there?" asked the American, pointing to the farthermost part of the slope.
"Not much! This place is all enclosed with that barbed-wire fence. That's where the sentries are to be found, and that is what is going to give us a lot of trouble."
"And when do we make an attempt to seize a boat?"
"Not while this wind is blowing, thank you. Better to prowl about half-starved in a German fortress than to be lying on the bottom of the North Sea."
"You cautious critter!" ejaculated Detroit.
"Exactly, my dear fellow. Caution is the modern naval officer's sheet anchor. Caution is instilled into him from the moment he's placed in charge of a ship's boat under sail. No doubt it's the means of often neglecting to make full use of an opportunity; but there you are. Modern warfare has no use for fire-eating daredevils; it's the level-headed admiral who will win the next great naval war. It's prosaic, but it's hard facts. Now, easy ahead; it's time to get under way."
Making his way up the vertical iron ladder, Hamerton raised the trapdoor a few inches and listened intently. All was quiet. He emerged from his hiding place, waited until Detroit rejoined him, then carefully replaced the cover on the aperture.
Bearing in mind the experience of the previous night, how without warning the place was flooded with light, the Sub and his companion made their way as stealthily and rapidly as possible to the base of the artificial cliff where the incline merged into the circular basin. Then, keeping close to the wall, they headed towards the upper level.
Suddenly Hamerton came to an abrupt halt and stood with his back hard up against the cliff. Detroit did likewise.
Faintly discernible against the loom of the skyline was a great-coated sentry pacing up and down across the brink of the inclined plane. Barely had he turned to commence another round when a second sentry appeared on the opposite side. Both met approximately in mid-distance, faced about, and retraced their steps.
It was evident that escape in that direction was almost beyond the bounds of possibility.
Awaiting a favourable moment when the nearmost sentry's back was turned, the fugitives crept cautiously down the slope, never halting till they came to the piles of empty casks that had served them so well less than twenty hours previously.
"Now what's to be done?" asked Hamerton.
"Have a shot at those steel ladders—the ones between the Zeppelin sheds."
"By Jove, smart idea of yours, old man! The sooner the better."
Without mishap the two comrades gained the base of one of the ladders that reared itself vertically to a height of nearly two hundred feet. It was to be a climb that would tax their powers of endurance to the uttermost.
"Gently does it," cautioned Hamerton. "One limb at a time, mind, and don't look down. Up you go."
With this parting injunction in his mind Detroit commenced to mount, making sure of each rung before he moved a step higher. He realized that a slip might result in the loss of his comrade's life as well as of his own.
The American was in excellent training, although somewhat handicapped for want of proper food. His muscles were flexible, his grip as firm as iron; nevertheless, by the time he gained the cross-platform connecting the ladders at a level slightly above the arch of the airship shed he was glad to sit down and rest.
"All right?" asked Hamerton anxiously.
"Guess I am," was the reply. "Now for the last lap."
Detroit spoke cheerfully, but the "last lap" was roughly three times the height of the portion already climbed.
Doggedly the two men stuck to their task. Once Detroit whispered that one of the rungs felt insecure. Beyond that not a word was spoken.
Hamerton could hear the American's laboured breaths. His own heart was throbbing violently against his ribs, his arms felt as heavy as lead, while the muscles of his calves had a decided tendency to "bunch"—the forerunner of the dreaded cramp.
Many a time during his terms at Dartmouth he had climbed over the fore-topmast crosstrees of the old hulkBritannia. In those days he had thought nothing of it, but now, unaccustomed to strenuous exercises of that sort, he felt the severity of the task.
Detroit was slackening his pace now. A few inches above his head Hamerton could see the American's heels mount step by step on a seemingly endless task. It reminded him of a pet mouse in a wheel.
Up, up, up! It was by this time little better than a tedious crawl. Once or twice the American stopped to regain his breath, and then plodded resolutely on his upward way. Then, to the Sub's delight, he saw Detroit lurch forward and throw up his heels. His comrade had reached the summit, and was sprawling, wellnigh exhausted, upon the turf.
Summoning up his remaining energies Hamerton also gained the much-desired resting place. Side by side they lay drinking in the cool breeze that came straight from the foam-flecked sea, on which innumerable lights, like stars on a dark night, twinkled incessantly.
"Time!" ejaculated Hamerton, rolling over and kneeling up. "Now, easy ahead; we'll come across another wire entanglement unless I'm very much mistaken."
They were now going with the wind—the worst possible direction, since the sound of any danger in front of them was carried away, while their own approach could be heard by any sentry who happened to be to leeward.
Thirty yards from the edge they threw themselves upon the grass. Within a stone's throw was a great-coated figure standing stockstill. It was one of the chain of sentries guarding the barbed-wire fence that completely encircled the secret Zeppelin station.
Motioning with his hand, Detroit indicated that they should make a detour. Hamerton shook his head. He could just distinguish the outlines of another sentry a hundred yards to the right. "Wait!" whispered the Sub.
Presently the nearest sentry sloped his rifle and began to pace in the direction of the one Hamerton had discerned to his right. When the two met they evidently indulged in a breach of discipline, for although the fugitives heard not a word the sentries were apparently talking.
"I want to make sure of the length of his beat," whispered Hamerton. "Then the next time he clears out we'll make a dash for the fence."
Back walked the sentry. Stopping for a moment to draw up the collar of his greatcoat, for it was just beginning to rain, he made his way past the two lurking men and disappeared in the murky darkness.
Presumably the soldier was not on speaking terms with the sentry at the other end of his beat, for in a very short space of time he returned. Almost abreast of the fugitives he stopped short, faced outwards, and levelled his rifle and bayonet, as if something suspicious had attracted his attention. Then, having satisfied himself that there was no cause for alarm, he made off towards the post on his left.
"Now!" whispered Hamerton.
"Just you wait!" replied the American. "Let's shift back a bit."
He pointed towards a speck of light that flickered in the now howling breeze.
"It's the rounds, by Jove!" muttered the Sub. "That's right; we'll hide in this hollow and trust to luck."
"Halt! Who goes there?" demanded the sentry in German.
"Rounds," was the reply.
"Advance, rounds; all's well!" exclaimed the soldier, recovering his rifle.
An officer and a file of men, one of whom held a lantern, came tramping through the long, damp grass. The Sub seemed to feel the glare of the light. Instinctively he buried his face in his arms and hid his bare hands under his coat. For the gleam to fall upon any light-coloured object was to arouse suspicion.
"Anything to report?" demanded the officer.
"No, sir. Once I fancied I saw one of the bloodhounds."
"Then don't fancy. I may as well tell you that the dogs are safely chained up. It would go ill with some of you men if they were at large on a night like this. Besides, the hounds are too valuable to risk being shot by an imaginative sentry. Now, remember, challenge once only and then fire, should any suspicious person approach your post. It means promotion to the man who succeeds in shooting or capturing those troublesome spies."
image: rounds
image: rounds
[Illustration: "'IT'S THE ROUNDS, BY JOVE!' WHISPERED THE SUB"]
[Illustration: "'IT'S THE ROUNDS, BY JOVE!' WHISPERED THE SUB"]
The rounds passed on. The sentry resumed his walk without attempting to give the salute. This Hamerton noticed particularly. As in the British Army, it was forbidden to give or acknowledge compliments after sunset. This knowledge he hoped to profit by, since it was within the bounds of possibility to impersonate a German officer and thus get safely away in one of the boats at the beach of the Unterland.
"Now!" whispered the Sub once more.
Silently the two comrades made their way to the fence. This time the lowermost wire was set up taut, and Hamerton had the greatest difficulty in holding it up sufficiently for Detroit to crawl clear of the sharp barbs. Before the sentry had set out on his return beat the fugitives had put a safe distance between them and that particular danger.
They were now within a hundred yards or so of Sathurn, the northernmost part of Heligoland, that terminates in a sheer cliff one hundred and sixty-six feet in height. Close to the point rises a detached pinnacle of rock, known as Hengst, its summit being only three feet lower than that of Sathurn.
"You stop here," whispered Hamerton. "The sentries seem as thick as flies. I'm going to crawl a few yards. One may escape detection where two will not."
With this injunction the Sub left his companion, and on all-fours made his way towards the extremity of the cliff. On his left was a building that a few years previously had been used as a fog-signal house. A light was burning within, and the sharp click of a shutter told the Sub that someone was using a Morse signalling apparatus.
Profiting by the glare, Hamerton crawled closer. The door of the hut was ajar. Within were several engineers standing by in readiness to work a powerful searchlight. To the left of the hut, and protected from leeward by a mound of earth, was a long metal cylinder about eighteen inches in diameter. A stray beam of light showed Hamerton that one end of this object was carefully covered by a tarpaulin.
"What's this arrangement, I wonder?" he thought. "Looks like a sort of torpedo tube. I'll——"
His hands clutched at empty air, he lurched forward, up went his heels, and the next instant he felt himself falling.
Like a flash the thought went through his brain: "I'm done for this time—I've toppled over the cliff." Yet not a sound escaped his lips, even when completely taken aback by the sudden plunge.
With a dull thud Hamerton alighted on his hunched shoulders. Instinctively he kept his head well under, and this saved him a broken neck. Inertly he rolled over on his side, wondering where he was and how far he had fallen. Nor could he help expecting to see the soldiers from the hut, who must have heard the noise of his fall.
A minute or so went by. No curious soldier appeared on the edge of the pit or whatever it was. He began to consider how he could escape.
"Solid steel, by Jove!" he exclaimed softly, tapping the substance on which he had fallen. He stood up. He found himself in a circular hollow surrounded by a wall less than six feet in height. The metal floor was perhaps thirty feet in diameter and slightly domed.
"Looks like the top of a gasometer or an oil-fuel tank," mused Hamerton. "I may as well have a short investigation. Can't stop long, or Detroit will be blundering in on top of me. Ah! What's this?"
His foot encountered a raised object. It was an armoured slide of some sort. He tried to raise it, but in vain. Then he applied pressure in a horizontal direction. This resulted in the metal slab sliding and disclosing a pitch-dark cavity.
"Wish I had a match," he muttered. "Well, here goes! I've been in worse holes than this."
His feet encountered the rungs of a ladder. Three downward steps did he take, then there was a sharp metallic click, followed by a sudden blaze of light.
Fullyexpecting to be challenged and seized by an unseen foe, Hamerton grasped the metal slide with the intention of making a dash for liberty. As he did so the cover slipped on its groove and closed the aperture, jamming the Sub's fingers as it did so.
The pain was acute, but for the time being Hamerton paid slight heed to it. His fingers, numbed by the shock, were powerless to reopen the heavy metal cover.
Yet no hands grasped his, no hoarse voice demanded his surrender. He looked down over his shoulder, and the cause of the sudden light became apparent. In his descent he had touched a switch that was conveniently fixed to a steel upright supporting the dome. Perfect silence reigned in the place, whatever it might be.
Disengaging his fingers, Hamerton descended the remaining rungs of the ladder. He realized that the accident was a blessing in disguise, for the slamming-to of the cover plate had effectually screened all light from within. Previous to this some light might have escaped, unless intercepted by his body as he crawled through the manhole.
The chamber was almost entirely occupied by the mountings of an enormous gun. The muzzle of the weapon disappeared behind a close-fitting steel shield that effectually prevented any light from being seen from seaward. It also prevented the Sub from approximately measuring the length of the gun, but upon opening the breech block he was able to conclude that the bore was not less than fifteen or sixteen inches. The gun and its enclosed shield were of a disappearing nature, while the loading tray was so constructed that the huge weapon could be served in any position.
At the rear of the loading tray was another opening that upon investigation Hamerton found to lead to the mechanism room for elevating the gun and its mounting. Here, too, was the opening to a subterranean passage, but the door was locked. Judging by the tram rails, the Sub concluded that it communicated with the principal magazine, that must be situated, deep under the ground, somewhere in the centre of the island.
"The whole blessed island is honeycombed," he exclaimed. "It's a second Gibraltar, only much more heavily armed. What a nut for us to crack when the time comes!"
Realizing that it was about time to rejoin his companion, the Sub ascended the ladder, switched off the light, and cautiously removed the slide. The exertion told him how painful his fingers had become, while he was forcibly reminded of his fall by a peculiar numbing sensation in the nape of his neck.
Without, the monotonous click of the signal lamp in the hut still continued. The searchlight was now switched on, but the operators had made a bad contact of the carbons, for the latter were hissing and spluttering abominably. This was in the Sub's favour, for the attention of the engineers was directed upon their work, and the noise of the searchlights effectually drowned the slight scraping sound that Hamerton made as he attempted to scale the walls of the gun pit.
Thrice he essayed the task. Under ordinary conditions a six-foot wall would have presented no great obstacle, but his strength had been sapped by his two accidents.
Round the edge of the dome he crept, till at the part facing the sea he discovered an iron ladder sunk in a recess in the wall, so as not to impede the raising of the armoured gun shield and its contents.
Gaining the top of the wall Hamerton began to crawl back towards the place where he had left Detroit. He had little fear of detection from the searchlight men: his danger lay in the fact that upon crossing the beam of light from the open door his silhouetted figure might be seen by a vigilant sentry.
Fortunately his misgivings were not materialized, and without incident he crawled to the place where his anxious comrade was impatiently waiting.
"A sixteen-inch gun over there," whispered the Sub excitedly. "A regular brute. Tumbled right on top of the anti-aircraft shield."
"Hurt yourself?"
"Only shaken a bit. Come on, it's about time we thought of something to eat. It was a quarter past one when I was in the gunpit."
"What's the programme?" asked Detroit.
"Make for the nearest house. We'll try our hands at amateur burglaring. If we keep midway between the fence and the edge of the cliff we ought to pass halfway between the double row of sentries."
It took the daring fugitives the best part of an hour to arrive at the lighthouse, a circular white tower—showing two powerful electric lights every five seconds—rising to a height of two hundred and seventy feet above the sea level. In a recent notice to mariners issued by the German Government it was stated that the lights were liable not to be shown during the manoeuvres, and plainly hinted that all merchant vessels should keep as far away as possible.
A few feet from the base of the tower stood the lighthouse-keepers' houses. The light was attended by German marines, since the fiat had gone forth that civilians were not to hold any Government post in the island of Heligoland. The keepers, with their wives and families, still occupied the same quarters as their predecessors, instead of living in barracks.
The problem now before Hamerton and his companion was which of the six houses was to be honoured by their attentions. It would be rather awkward to fix upon one where the keeper was spending his off-duty hours; in fact, an alarm raised in any one of them would inevitably bring speedy aid. But the reason why Hamerton decided upon the lighthouse quarters at all was that their comparative isolation made it easier to escape.
All the houses were in darkness. Crouching close to the ground, lest their dark figures should show up against the whitewashed walls, the two men crept from window to window, cautiously trying the fastenings.
At the fifth one Hamerton paused.
"Empty," he whispered. "We're in luck; we'll try the end house."
It was now raining heavily, while around that exposed position the wind howled dismally. Hardly a night for a dog to be out, yet here were two men of good social position groping in the rainswept mire in their quest for food and liberty.
Hamerton raised himself and peered through one of the windows. A fire burned in the open grate, a dull-red pile of coals. The Sub rightly concluded that it had not been touched for several hours. By its glare he could see rows of well-scoured highly-polished metal pots and pans, doubtless the pride of a thrifty German housewife; and, what was more pleasing, a couple of shelves on which stood bread, cold meat, cheese, and a glass jug half filled with an amber-coloured liquid.
On either side of the fireplace two high-backed chairs were drawn up. Both were in shadow, being shielded from the glow of the embers by an outstanding oak mantelpiece. In front of the grate stood a large iron pot, its contents still simmering gently. The Sub could almost imagine that he smelt the savoury odours.
He tried the window. It was secured by a heavy metal catch. Nothing short of breaking a pane of glass would enable him to force an entrance. The sight of the eatables was wellnigh irresistible.
"Try the back," whispered Detroit hoarsely.
Here, sheltered from the wind and rain, the two chums discovered that a small window had been left unsecured. In a trice Detroit was up on the Sub's back and was through the narrow opening. Hamerton could not have done it to save his life, for his whole body was aching painfully. He had perforce to wait until the American stealthily unlocked the door.
Hamerton's first act was to draw a curtain over the window, then the two famished men began to wolf the eatables, standing close to the fire to enjoy the comforting glow, the while reckless of the consequences, for their clothes were steaming like a hard-pressed horse on a frosty day.
Suddenly Hamerton touched the American on the shoulder and held up a warning finger. Overhead was a scuffling sound; then thud, thud, the noise of a heavy person descending the stairs.
Their retreat was cut off. Hamerton crouched behind one of the armchairs, Detroit took refuge under the table, and there they waited, hoping that the newcomer would not notice the depletion of the larder.
The click of the key in the lock and the rasping of the bolts told them that either the occupier of the house had imagined that the door had been accidentally left unsecured, or else that there were nocturnal intruders—and "the cat was out of the bag".
Alas for the first theory! The electric light was switched on, and from his place of concealment Hamerton could see the skirts and big carpet slippers of a portly female.
One glance was sufficient to show the woman that thieves had been at work. Stooping, she peered under the table, and Detroit's eyes met those of one of the fattest women he had ever seen.
Without raising a shout the woman made a dart for a rifle that stood in the corner. This she accomplished with considerable agility considering her bulk.
In one corner of the dresser were several loose cartridges. It was towards these the woman waddled.
"Stop her," hissed Hamerton, springing from his place of concealment. He was in time to grab the keeper's wife and prevent her from obtaining the ammunition, while Detroit grasped the rifle.
Then ensued a long struggle. The woman was powerful and determined, the intruders, loath to harm a female, did their best to wrench the rifle from her without exercising brute force. And the curious part about it was that the woman from first to last never called for help.
Finding he could not gain possession of the weapon, the Sub deftly extracted the bolt and thrust it into his pocket.
"Be sharp, Detroit," he exclaimed. "Unlock that door. That's right. Now help me to secure this lady. She's deaf and dumb, poor creature. Hand up that curtain cord. You tie her ankles while I keep her from hitting you over the head with this rifle."
It was easier said than done. The woman resisted bravely, but at length the American succeeded in passing the cord round her ankles and drawing it tight. Then by their united efforts the two men lowered her gently on to the stone floor.
"Now let's cut," said Hamerton. "If anyone in the next house but one heard the scuffle—— Put the top of that loaf in your pocket before you go."
Into the blinding rain the fugitives made their way, pausing under the lee of a low stone wall in order to get accustomed to the darkness.
"Now there'll be a rumpus," whispered Detroit. "The best thing we can do is to get back to our quarters under the turntable. Since the place is well guarded they won't expect to find us there, especially as they're bound to know that we've been pillaging one of the keepers' cottages."
"That's so," assented Hamerton. "Plucky old woman, that. She would have used that rifle if she had managed to get hold of those cartridges."
"She has, I guess!" exclaimed the American, starting to his feet as a loud report came from the house they had just left. The housewife, unable to make herself heard, had contrived to raise herself by means of the table, seize a cartridge, and throw it on the fire.
"Run for it," hissed the Sub. "We must risk it."
Keeping the lighthouse on their right the fugitives bolted, their one idea being to put a respectable distance between them and the keepers. Already lights were appearing in the cottages and a babel of shouts arose, men enquiring what was amiss, and offering various suggestions as to the cause of the alarm.
Soon the deaf-and-dumb woman was released, and by means of signs told how she had been molested by the two English spies.
With that there was a general exodus. The keepers, intent upon winning the reward issued for the escaped prisoners' arrest, seized their rifles and started in pursuit. Not having the faintest notion of the direction the fugitives had taken, they naturally concluded that they had made for the Unterland in the hope of being able to seize a boat. All this while Hamerton and Detroit were making towards the circular fence surrounding the Zeppelin station.
"Easy!" whispered the Sub, when they were nearly abreast of Spitz Horn. "We'll be tumbling upon the sentries if we are not careful. They have been warned for a dead cert."
Before Detroit could reply a tall, dark figure loomed up directly in front of them. A levelled bayonet glinted dully in the dim light and a guttural voice bade them stand on the pain of being instantly shot down if they resisted.
Oswald Detroit had not been a full back of his college team to no purpose. With a sudden panther-like spring he threw himself upon the ground right under the levelled bayonet.
The sentry made a bold attempt to shorten his weapon and lunge at his antagonist. He was the fraction of a second too late. The American's steel-like fingers gripped him round the ankles. His bunched head and shoulders caught the German a tremendous battering-ram-like blow just above the knees.
Swept off his feet by the impetus, the sentry fell heavily on the ground. As he fell his finger involuntarily pressed the trigger of his rifle. There was a deafening report. The bullet whizzed close to Hamerton's ear, while he clearly felt the blast of the detonation.
The sentry, stunned by the fall, lay like a log.
There was not a moment to be lost. The man's comrades, already on the qui vive, saw the flash and heard the report. The nearmost of the cordon ran to support the fellow who had raised the alarm.
Throwing themselves on the ground the Sub and his companion crawled in a direction that was practically at right angles to the imaginary line between the two nearest sentries. As they did so they heard the swish of a man's boots shearing through the long, damp grass.
Once more luck was in their favour, for the oncoming sentry passed them within a distance of ten yards. So intent was he upon finding his comrade that the two men lying prone upon the ground were unobserved.
With an exclamation of dismay and astonishment the German stooped over the body of the insensible soldier. Others came running up, and in the darkness one called attention to a dark object fifty yards or so from him, moving cautiously in the direction of the lighthouse.
Half a dozen shots rang out. The object, whatever it was, gave a convulsive spring and collapsed, kicking in its death agonies.
Off ran the sentries to investigate. They had shot a goat that had strayed from one of the adjacent gardens!
This diversion enabled the fugitives to gain the fence without detection, wriggle under the lowermost barbed wire, and find a temporary respite on the unpatrolled area between the entanglement and the brink of the Zeppelin pit.
With considerable difficulty the American located the topmost rungs of one of the vertical ladders.
"Guess I'll go first," he whispered. "You feel game?"
"Yes," replied the Sub grimly, yet he knew that he had hardly an ounce of strength left.
"Follow on," continued Detroit. "If you feel fagged, give me the word and I'll hang on to you while you rest."
Although the descent entailed considerable less exertion than the ascent a few hours before, Hamerton could hardly retain his grasp upon the slippery steel rungs. His downward motion was purely mechanical. His joints seemed so stiff that a sharp racking pain shot through his shoulders every time he lowered an arm to find the next rung.
"Here's the horizontal platform," whispered Detroit. "We'll rest awhile."
"No, carry on," begged the Sub, "if I stop I'm afraid I won't be able to continue. It's only another fifty feet or so."
"All right!" replied his comrade dubiously. "But, say, shall I carry you down? hang on my back."
"I'm too heavy," objected Hamerton. "Carry on. It will soon be over."
Suddenly Detroit came to a halt, groping aimlessly with his foot for the next rung.
"Hold on!" he hissed. "There's some low-down trick here."
Gripping one side of the ladder as far down as he could he felt with his free hand. The disconcerting discovery that the lowermost section of the ladder had been removed came as a sudden and nerve-racking shock.
"Up we go," he exclaimed, with false cheerfulness. "We've struck the wrong ladder. It ends here. We've only to get back to the horizontal platform."
Retracing that twenty feet was almost beyond Hamerton's strength. Had it not been for his companion's aid the Sub would certainly have relaxed his hold. Utterly exhausted, he threw himself upon the light, steel bridge connecting the vertical ladders, and shivered through sheer weakness and bodily anguish.
"Stay here," continued Detroit. "I'll go on a little tour of investigation. When I come back I'll rub your wrists and ankles, and then we'll make short work of getting to the ground."
Stepping over Hamerton's body the American made his way along the face of the cliff. He was filled with vague fears. Something seemed to tell him that all three ladders had been tampered with.
Just as he gained the part of the bridge immediately above the opening of one of the Zeppelin sheds, every arc lamp in the pit was instantaneously lighted.
Blinded by the sudden and powerful glare the American stopped stockstill, grasping the light handrail, and vainly attempting to shield his eyes from the intense brilliance of a lamp just beneath the place where he stood.
Voices hailed him in an unknown tongue. Their import was plain enough: it was a peremptory summons to surrender.
He removed his hand from his eyes. He could now see, though indistinctly. Fifty feet beneath him and as many yards from the base of the cliff stood a squad of marines with levelled rifles. Behind them were three or four officers who had demanded his instant submission.
Detroit had sense enough to realize that the game was up. He raised his hands in token of surrender, then deliberately made his way back to where Hamerton stood.
Luckily for him the officers saw his object, and forbore to order their men to fire. Several sailors came running up, bearing the displaced section of the ladder. This they placed in position, and half a dozen of them swarmed up to seize their prisoners.
"It's the fortune of war, old man," exclaimed Hamerton feebly, "but we've had a very good innings."
"Here'sa letter from Kiel for you," announced Octavius Smith as he entered the cabin of theDiomeda. "You're a rum card, Stirling; you generally manage to get hold of everything you want. Bless me if I ever thought you'd get a reply from Pfeil."
"It's quite about time," replied Gordon Stirling unconcernedly as he caught the envelope his companion tossed towards him.
Ten days had elapsed since Stirling had set out to carry off a journalistic scoop. Allowing for two Sundays, that were not counted in ordinary leave, only six more days remained. In less than a week he would have to be slogging away in the Inland Revenue Office at Lowestoft, making up arrears of work that his confrères were bound to keep open for him. That is one of the ethics of a Government Department. A fellow returning from leave is supposed to be like a young giant refreshed with wine—ready and willing to tackle any accumulative work. The result is that almost all the benefits from a holiday are thrown away upon a desperate attempt to reduce the pile of bookwork to reasonable dimensions.
For days past the westerly breeze had held. Smith was beginning to fret at the enforced detention, especially as he learnt from meteorological reports that only a few miles to the north the wind was almost exactly in the opposite direction.
"There you are!" exclaimed Stirling excitedly. "Didn't I say so?"
"Say what?" demanded the skipper, deliberately recharging his pipe.
"I'll read you Pfeil's letter. There are one or two words I can't make out without a dictionary, but I can make a very good guess at them: