Just as he gained the part of the bridge immediately above the opening of one of the Zeppelin sheds, every arc lamp in the pit was instantaneously lighted.
Blinded by the sudden and powerful glare the American stopped stockstill, grasping the light handrail, and vainly attempting to shield his eyes from the intense brilliance of a lamp just beneath the place where he stood.
Voices hailed him in an unknown tongue. Their import was plain enough: it was a peremptory summons to surrender.
He removed his hand from his eyes. He could now see, though indistinctly. Fifty feet beneath him and as many yards from the base of the cliff stood a squad of marines with levelled rifles. Behind them were three or four officers who had demanded his instant submission.
Detroit had sense enough to realize that the game was up. He raised his hands in token of surrender, then deliberately made his way back to where Hamerton stood.
Luckily for him the officers saw his object, and forbore to order their men to fire. Several sailors came running up, bearing the displaced section of the ladder. This they placed in position, and half a dozen of them swarmed up to seize their prisoners.
"It's the fortune of war, old man," exclaimed Hamerton feebly, "but we've had a very good innings."
CHAPTER XVI
The News Leaks Out
"Here's a letter from Kiel for you," announced Octavius Smith as he entered the cabin of the Diomeda. "You're a rum card, Stirling; you generally manage to get hold of everything you want. Bless me if I ever thought you'd get a reply from Pfeil."