"Way enough!" exclaimed the Sub in a low voice. "Keep to this ledge as far as it goes." Forcing their way through the brambles, with a reckless disregard for the uniforms of von Eitelheitner and his fat satellite, Dick and the midshipman found themselves on the brink of a precipice. Two hundred feet below them the stars were reflected in a placid sheet of land-locked water. Beyond the barrier of lofty rocks could be heard the sullen murmur of the open sea. "No signs of the convoy, sir," said Farnworth. "No, they've kept wonderfully quiet the half-hour. I hope we haven't arrived at the wrong rendezvous." As he spoke a light blinked solemnly from some floating object in the centre of the lake or creek, whichever it happened to be, for no signs of any communication with the sea was to be seen in the darkness. "Ha!" The Sub's short, sharp ejaculation was the only indication of his satisfaction. He knew now that his efforts had not been in vain. He was on the eve of an important discovery. "What do you make of it, sir?" whispered Farnworth. "Submarine!" replied Dick briefly. He was right. It was a submarine signalling with a flashing lamp. He wished for dawn, for it was impossible to distinguish her in the darkness. Thrice she called--and called in vain. No answering signal came from the spot where the mountain path debouched into the narrow sandy beach. "Hope she won't clear out," soliloquized the Sub. "I'd like to have a good look at her. By Jove, it's getting light!" The reflection of the stars no longer scintillated in the water. Wreaths of vapour--the mists of morning--were slowly eddying from the surface. Away to the east the stars were paling under the influence of the dawn. Soon the details of the land-locked estuary became visible. There was a narrow gap in the high ground that communicated with the Ægean Sea. On the opposite side of the creek were a couple of deserted huts and a ruined building, that was formerly a mosque, standing in an isolated position on the summit of a rounded hill. Owing to the mists, the waters of the creek were hidden from sight. "Look, sir!" whispered Farnworth, who, lying at full length, was examining the beach. Standing at the water's edge were two German naval officers. A few feet away from them a collapsible boat of the type used in the German navy was drawn up on the beach, with three bluejackets standing rigidly at attention by its side. Just then a gentle zephyr rent the veil of mist. Dick gasped in astonishment. Well he might, for floating serenely on the surface was a submarine: not one of the Turkish navy, but one of the most modern of the German _unterseebooten_. CHAPTER XII The German Submarine