"Impossible or not--a man or a cadaver!"
"Have him up and see...."
By order, two of the crew dragged Lanyard up to the bridge, supporting him
by main strength while the officers examined him.
"At the last gasp, but alive," one announced.
"How the devil did he get out here?"
"From the _Assyrian_--"
"Impossible for any man to swim this far since our torpedo struck--"
"Then he must have gone overboard before it struck--or was thrown--"
A cry of alarm from the group about the gun, awaiting final orders to open
fire upon the _Assyrian's_ boats, interrupted the conference. The officers
swung away in haste.
"Hell's fury! what's that searchlight?"
"A Yankee destroyer--in all probability the one we dodged yesterday
afternoon."
"She'll find us yet if we don't submerge. Forward, there--house that gun!
And get below--quickly!"
During a moment of apparent confusion, one of the men sustaining Lanyard
caught the attention of an officer.
"What shall we do with this fellow, sir?" he enquired.
"Leave him here to sink or swim as we go down," snapped the officer--"and
be damned to him!"
With a supreme effort the adventurer sank his fingers deep into the arms of
the two men.
"Wait!" he gasped faintly in German. "On the Emperor's service--"
"What's that?" The officer turned back sharply.
"Imperial Secret Service," Lanyard faltered--"Personal
Division--Wilhelmstrasse Number 27--"
A brilliant glare settled suddenly upon the deck of the submarine, and was
welcomed by a panicky gust of oaths. One officer had already popped through
the conning-tower hatch, followed by several of the crew. There remained
only those supporting Lanyard, and the second officer.
"Take him below!" the latter ordered. "He may be telling the truth. If
not...."
In the distance a gun boomed. A shell shrieked over the submarine and
dropped into the sea not a hundred yards to starboard. The men rushed
Lanyard toward the conning tower. He tried feebly to help them. In that
effort consciousness was altogether blotted out....