With a great effort the diver sat up.
"An anchor, sir," he gasped feebly. "An anchor—an English naval pattern one—has been dropped right over ours. A very big one."
Then his eyes closed, and he fell back unconscious.
"Gott in Himmel!" ejaculated Rix. "We are trapped!"
CHAPTER VIII
Balked by a Sea-plane
"How so?" demanded Kapitan Schwalbe. "If we keep quiet, the cruiser—for cruiser she must be, judging by the fellow's description—will weigh and proceed."
"When she does weigh we are undone," said Rix despondently. "We are swinging round our anchor. For all we know, our cable has taken a turn round hers. As soon as they heave up their anchor, our anchor and cable will be brought up with it, and then the game is up. Either the strain will overcome our dead weight and we will be hauled to the surface, or else they'll lower one of their brutal explosive charges."
"The situation is serious," admitted Schwalbe in a low tone, for his Leutnant's words had produced a demoralizing effect upon the men. "How much cable have we inboard?"