"Look!" he exclaimed, pointing to a small, indistinct object from which emanated two ever-diverging lines of ruffled water. "Do you know what that is? Here, take these binoculars and look. Now, perhaps, you see what I mean?"
The spy brought the glasses to bear.
"A fish, I suppose," he remarked.
"A fish of sorts," added the ober-leutnant. "One's sense of proportion is deceived at this height. It is an unterseeboot. I do not fancy it is ours, otherwise why should she keep submerged when close to our territorial water?"
He lifted the receiver of the telephone.
"Wireless cabin. Report to the commandant of Heligoland that there is a submarine in the south channel. Ask if it is one of our unterseebooten."
In a few minutes came the reply.
"No German submarine operating sub merged off the fortress. Can you attack?"
"No, I cannot," declared von Loringhoven bluntly, directing his remarks to his companion. "She's a British submarine. Those fellows nose their way everywhere. She, evidently, is inside the outer minefield. And they want me, crippled as this airship is, to attack. It is unreasonable; besides, the wind is increasing in strength and we have yet to make a landing."
So, giving by wireless the bearings of the daring submarine, von Loringhoven "carried on" in the knowledge that the dangers of this flight were by no means over. Already the wind was blowing with a velocity of thirty miles an hour—a rate that would make landing a difficult matter—and, what is more, its strength was hourly increasing.