O'Hara had been equally successful in his share of the attack. Taking Denbigh literally, he had alighted fairly on the German soldier's head.
"I've killed him!" exclaimed the Irishman.
"'Fraid so," agreed Denbigh. "But it's war, you know. Be sharp, drag them into the bushes. Our dear friend the major won't recover his senses in a hurry."
Taking possession of the torch Denbigh scaled the cliff and made his way through the mangroves until he was nearly twenty yards from the edge of the wood. From this point he could see the masthead light of the destroyer—for destroyer he felt sure it must be. He could now flash the torch with little risk of the glare being spotted from either the Pelikan or the masked battery.
He "called up", at first without meeting with success, but at length a steady white light gleamed from the offing. It was not from the destroyer that had been using her masthead light, but from one farther out to sea.
Rapidly Denbigh flashed the warning message:—
"Pelikan disguised, 400 yards to southward of searchlights. Masked battery 400 yards to northward of searchlights. Useless to attempt torpedo."
The white light vanished. With his nerves tingling with anxiety the sub waited.
Then through the darkness the destroyer's signalling lamp spelt out the single word:
"R-A-T-S."