The Irishman still had his pistol. He had taken an early opportunity of cleaning it after his immersion. The screw-driver had been lost in the _Myra_, but by this time the lock furniture was easy to remove, a coin doing duty for the hitherto indispensable tool. The three men also contrived to reserve a small quantity of food and a glass bottle filled with soda-water. Captain Pennington and Armstrong had been berthed in the same cabin as the two subs. That facilitated matters, since the master of the _Myra_ could cover his companions' tracks. "They'll make it pretty hot for me when they find you've cleared out," he remarked. "I can stick that. I don't think they'll go to extreme measures with me. If they do they'll be sorry for it later on." At the usual hour the officer-prisoners were ordered below. By ten o'clock all was still. The crew of the raider were no longer working by night. The bulk of the preparations completed they were given ample opportunities for rest, since it was necessary to conserve their energies for defence against the impending attack. On deck a strict watch was maintained, but the attention of the sentries was mainly directed downstream, whence the sudden switching on of the searchlights was to be the signal of the approach of the British flotillas. It was not until two bells (1 a.m.) that the three officers stole from their cabin. On deck all was in darkness. There was no moon. Every light was extinguished. A mist obscured the glimmer of the stars. It was one of those nights when it was really impossible to see one's hand in front of one's face. Without interruption the three officers gained the shelter of one of the boats slung inboard with davits. Here, eight feet above the deck, they were in comparative safety. Groping in the stern-sheets Denbigh found what he expected--a hand lead-line. Keeping the weighted end in the boat he dropped the coils overboard. Caught by the swirling current the line trailed out astern. His next task was to lower the boat's painter, which was to form a means of getting down into the punt. Stealthily the sub lowered himself hand over hand until his feet touched the water. "Good heavens, what a current!" he thought. "Well, if the lead-line parts it will be an end to this little business. Here goes!" He slipped softly into the river, striking out against the current, and at the same time allowing the rush of water to sweep him down across the bows of the punt, which was about a hundred feet from the place where he had descended. Suddenly something flicked across his head. It was the trailing lead-line. Grasping it he allowed himself to be carried past the side of the ship until he came within reach of the punt, which was made fast to the lizard of one of the swinging booms.