Hoole started, stealing along inch by inch under the cliff wall, taking advantage of its inequalities and of the baskets which were ranged in line against it. He had gone forward only about a dozen yards, however, when Trentham, who could just distinguish his form, saw him halt, crouching low. The sentry's pipe was still emitting its glow at regular intervals as the man puffed. It was clear that he had not been disturbed, and Trentham, wondering why Hoole had stopped, stole forward to join him, carrying the rope with which Meek had been bound.
The American was lying almost flat, peering between the bars of a wooden grating that covered a hole in the cliff.
'Listen!' he whispered, as Trentham came up behind him.
And then Trentham heard, from behind the grating, sounds of deep breathing, as of many men asleep. Nothing could be seen in the pitch blackness within; but the two men concluded that they had found the place in which the natives were confined. Worn out by long hours of fatiguing work to which they were unused, the prisoners, no doubt, were sleeping the heavy sleep of exhaustion.
Hoole was about to go forward, when he was arrested by a sound some distance ahead. He dropped flat again, and taking up handfuls of coal dust, rubbed it all over his clothes. Trentham followed his example. They now identified the sound as footsteps; in a few moments they heard a voice, then a tapping.
'Sentry being relieved; knocking out his pipe,' Hoole whispered.
They lay watching, listening, with their hearts in their mouths. Would the Germans come to look at the man they had tied up? Or would the relieving sentry be satisfied by his comrade's report that all was well, and take up his post without investigation? If both should come along the ledge together, it was hopeless to expect that they could be silenced without one or other having time to give the alarm. They might even see the white clothes, in spite of the coating of coal dust, before they came within reach. A single shout would arouse the Germans below, and all would be over.
The footsteps drew nearer; two voices were heard. The new sentry exchanged a few words with his comrade; then the heavy boots of the latter rang on the path leading downwards to the beach. The risk was halved! A match was struck; the newcomer lit his pipe, and for a minute or two paced up and down a short stretch of the ledge. Hoole hoped that he would soon tire of this, and sit, as his comrade presumably had done, smoking placidly, dreaming perhaps of a little cottage somewhere in the Fatherland.
But presently the slow footsteps approached. The scent of tobacco smoke touched the nostrils of the waiting men. The sentry was coming to look at his prisoner. Trentham and Hoole crawled back silently a few yards, and effaced themselves as well as they could behind the baskets. The German came slowly on, humming between his closed lips. He reached the tunnel, and stood at the grating for a few moments; the watchers saw the reflection of his glowing pipe on his face as he pressed it close against the bars. Humming again, he sauntered on towards the post where Meek had been tied, walking outside the line of baskets, and passing the hidden men within a couple of yards.
Now was the critical moment. Feeling that the whole success of the enterprise hung on the next few seconds, Hoole pulled himself together, got to his feet, and noiselessly on his stocking soles tip-toed after the German. From below came the restless murmur of the surf. Hoole's footsteps could not have been heard, yet the German, perhaps moved by that strange sense one has of being followed, was on the point of turning round, when a hard fist caught him with the force of a sledge-hammer behind his right ear, and he fell like a log. Trentham, who had followed stealthily, instantly dashed forward, and before the stunned man regained consciousness he was bound hand and foot with the rope that had tortured Meek, and a gag, torn from Hoole's coat, was firmly wedged between his teeth.