How he covered that two hundred yards he never could explain, but at length, with a feeling of relief, he turned his broad back to the advancing flames and raised the now unconscious man from the ground. With almost superhuman strength he lifted the listless body upon his shoulder and began his bid for safety. Almost blindly he ran till his gait slowed down almost to a halting walk. Dimly he realized that he was not alone. Some of the devoted seamen had followed him into the edge of the inferno. Someone tried to shift the burden from his shoulders. He resisted. Why he knew not. Already his senses were forsaking him. With a crash he fell upon his knees. He was up and staggering again, until, unable to withstand the strain, he rolled inertly upon the ground with his fingers gripping his throat. Then all became a blank. He recovered consciousness to find himself lying on a pile of canvas in the stern-sheets of one of the boats. It was broad daylight. Overhead an awning had been spread to ward off the rays of the morning sun. Almost in an instant he recalled the incident of the night of horror. The air still smelt vilely of smouldering vegetable matter. Wisps of smoke eddied betwixt the sun and the awning, throwing fantastic shadows upon the bellying canvas. The fire, then, had practically burnt itself out. "Any signs of the others?" he asked. Armstrong shook his head. "The whole place is a mass of glowing cinders," he replied. "It is impossible to see more than a quarter of a mile in that direction. I'm afraid----" "Any more survivors?" asked Denbigh. The mere movement of his facial muscles caused him exquisite pain, for his face was scorched and blistered. His hair and eyebrows had been badly singed. Altogether he looked a pitiable scarecrow. It is only on the stage and on the cinematograph screen that heroes preserve an unruffled appearance. "No," replied the mate. "Not one, after the fellow you brought in. Did you know who it was?" The sub shook his head, then winced, for the action sent a thrill of anguish through his body. "Unter-leutnant Klick," continued Armstrong in answer to his own question. "He's still unconscious. We dare not move him to the boats. His skin is literally peeling off all over his body. Shall I have you sent down the river, old man? The chief petty officer is now in charge. Is he to withdraw the rest of the boats?" "No," replied Denbigh with sudden firmness. "No; by no means. We'll wait until we can send volunteers to find traces of our fellows. Have the sea-planes passed over yet?" Armstrong replied in the negative. "How are the other Germans?" "One is practically fit. The other is suffering from shock." "Then send the fit fellow to me, please."