A prolonged search resulted in the recovery of the precious instrument. Anxiously Denbigh revolved the case; to his intense satisfaction he saw that the luminous card was still sensitive.
"My word!" thought Denbigh, as the two men resumed their way. "Whatever possessed me to take this business on? Idle curiosity and the love of doing something to pass away the time, I suppose. After all, I can't see how we can help our squadron in the slightest. And here are we running the risk of being stranded in a beastly forest, and perhaps being chawed up by some wild animal. Well, we're half-way there, so I suppose we may as well carry on. I won't be the one to suggest chucking up the sponge and making tracks for the Myra."
The Irishman's soliloquies were on almost the identical lines, but as neither communicated his thought to the other, the consequence was that they both persisted in their hazardous adventure.
It must have been about one in the morning, when, more by good luck than by good management, the two British officers stumbled upon the clearing on which stood the galvanized iron house that they had noticed when the Myra lay at anchor in the lagoon.
Although no light was visible, there were men within, for the subs could hear the rasping of a file and the sharp whirr of a hack-saw.
"Steady!" whispered Denbigh. "Bear away a little. Remember we're close to the native village. Ten to one there'll be a crowd of dogs about, and our clothes, in spite of ill-usage, are fairly conspicuous against the dark background."
Twice they halted before they crossed a foot-track through the mangrove forest. At the second path, they had to wait until a party of German bluejackets had passed. The men were armed, and were accompanied by a score of blacks, who had been impressed to drag a small field-gun up the hill.
Unsuspecting the Germans went on their way, and the subs, after a safe interval had elapsed, continued their way to the shore.
Suddenly O'Hara gripped his companion's arm and pointed. Fifty feet below them, and at a distance of two hundred yards, was the native village. The huts were wrapped in silence. Only the women and children remained, for the men had been compelled to throw up earthworks to defend the lagoon from the anticipated attack. Outside the village stood two German soldiers armed with rifles and fixed bayonets, their duty being to prevent any of the inhabitants from leaving their huts during the night.
"It's not healthy that way," he whispered. "More to the left, old man. I can hear the surf."