"How do you know that the wire has been cut?" asked the unter-leutnant. "It might have carried away."
"A whole length of it has been removed, sir," reported the coxswain.
"Then it was the natives. They'll steal anything in the metal line. Kapitan von Riesser ought to have known that," replied Klick with asperity. "We look after our prisoners here. None of them has the faintest chance of getting out of the ship. Anything more to report?"
"Only that Major von Eckenstein is missing. He left the observation station to go to the Pelikan's landing stage and never arrived. Search parties were out when I left."
Unter-leutnant Kaspar Klick made no audible comment. Inwardly he rejoiced, after the manner of mean-minded men when they hear of misfortune overtaking those they dislike; for there was no love lost between the two representatives of the Kaiser's forces.
"Very well; carry on back," he ordered. "You can reassure Kapitan von Riesser on the points he mentioned."
"There's something else, sir," reported the petty officer, producing a linen envelope from under a cushion in the stern-sheets. "I had to deliver this to you personally."
The German officer took the envelope and went below to read its contents. It was to the effect that the Pelikan had been lightened still more and that at high water she would attempt the bar. The Myra was to return down stream and stand by to render assistance if necessary.
Returning on deck the prize-master gave back to the coxswain the order, to which was added a notation that it would be complied with, and dismissed the boat. Then, grumbling at being turned out so early in the morning, Kaspar Klick retired to his cabin.
"Is that right about the sinking of one of our cruisers?" asked Armstrong, when Denbigh had translated the gist of the conversation, for in spite of the port-hole being closed every word had been audible.