Denbigh's first impulse was to fly, but calmer counsels prevailed. Dropping on one knee, he held his improvised spear pointed towards the enemy, the butt planted firmly into the ground. As well might a dog try conclusions with a motor-car. The ape's muscular hand gripped the pole and wrenched it from the sub's grasp, while Denbigh's endeavour to retain his hold resulted in his being thrown prostrate at the creature's feet. Before the luckless man could realize his position there was a vivid flash and a sharp report, quickly followed by another and another. O'Hara had fired point-blank at the animal's head. The next instant Denbigh was pinned under the lifeless body of his antagonist, for a chance-directed shot had struck the ape in the eye, and had penetrated the brain. "Hurt?" asked the Irishman anxiously, as he assisted Denbigh to regain his feet. "Am I?" asked the sub blankly. "If you don't know I suppose no one else does," rejoined O'Hara. "I thought the brute had me that time. Hulloa! where's my compass?" A prolonged search resulted in the recovery of the precious instrument. Anxiously Denbigh revolved the case; to his intense satisfaction he saw that the luminous card was still sensitive. "My word!" thought Denbigh, as the two men resumed their way. "Whatever possessed me to take this business on? Idle curiosity and the love of doing something to pass away the time, I suppose. After all, I can't see how we can help our squadron in the slightest. And here are we running the risk of being stranded in a beastly forest, and perhaps being chawed up by some wild animal. Well, we're half-way there, so I suppose we may as well carry on. I won't be the one to suggest chucking up the sponge and making tracks for the _Myra_." The Irishman's soliloquies were on almost the identical lines, but as neither communicated his thought to the other, the consequence was that they both persisted in their hazardous adventure. It must have been about one in the morning, when, more by good luck than by good management, the two British officers stumbled upon the clearing on which stood the galvanized iron house that they had noticed when the _Myra_ lay at anchor in the lagoon. Although no light was visible, there were men within, for the subs could hear the rasping of a file and the sharp whirr of a hack-saw. "Steady!" whispered Denbigh. "Bear away a little. Remember we're close to the native village. Ten to one there'll be a crowd of dogs about, and our clothes, in spite of ill-usage, are fairly conspicuous against the dark background." Twice they halted before they crossed a foot-track through the mangrove forest. At the second path, they had to wait until a party of German bluejackets had passed. The men were armed, and were accompanied by a score of blacks, who had been impressed to drag a small field-gun up the hill.