The "Aphrodite’s" landing party were only just in time. Already the Somalis, reinforced by those who had vainly attempted to stop the approach of the submarine, were massing for a concentrated rush upon the handful of men from the stranded merchant-vessel. Under a heavy fire of Martini and other rifles--weapons discarded by various Governments and sold by unscrupulous tenders to the fierce and lawless Equatorial tribes--nearly two thousand spearmen were advancing stealthily, till, in spite of a steady fire maintained by the British seamen, the attackers were within two hundred yards. Here they paused, then giving vent to a terrific roar of defiance, they broke into a headlong rush, brandishing their broad-bladed spears and leather shields in order to demoralize the unbelievers who had been rash enough to land on that inhospitable shore. Hythe raised his hand. The gunner pressed home a small lever with his thumb. The belt of projectiles in the capacious maw of the automatic gun, grew shorter and shorter, while the steam from the water-jacket soon outrivalled the haze from the smokeless powder. It was no longer a fight: it was a massacre. The sub saw the Somalis mown down as though with a scythe, till, unable in spite of their fanatical bravery, to face the hail of death they fled, leaving the ground thickly covered with dead and dying. "Cease fire!" ordered Hythe; then, "Carry on. Search the bush away on the right. There are hundreds of the enemy lurking there." Round swept the muzzle of the gun; up went the sight to a thousand yards. "Pop, pop, pop," went the sharp detonation of the quick-firer, till half a dozen rounds had been fired. Then came an ominous silence. "Carry on," repeated the sub in a loud voice. "I gave no orders to cease firing." "Can’t help it, sir," replied Polglaze, who was sitting across the trail and manipulating the firing-gear. "The blessed thing’s jammed." It was indeed fortunate that the mechanism had not gone wrong during the attack, but the danger was not yet over. It was imperative that the weapon should be rendered serviceable again before the rescued crew could be taken off. As soon as the Somalis withdrew beyond range the wearied men of the stranded vessel hastened to greet their new-comer, while the master, a short, broad-shouldered, rubicund-visaged old salt, briefly explained to Hythe the circumstances under which the vessel went ashore. It came as no surprise to the sub to learn that the ship--the two-thousand ton Diesel engined tramp, "Iticaba"--had been chased by the "Vorwartz." Scorning to surrender, the sturdy skipper served out rifles and ordered his men to fire at the submarine as she rose to the surface to hail the "Iticaba" to heave-to. The bullets had no more effect than peas rattling on a corrugated iron roof, but Karl von Harburg lost no time in retiring to the security of the conning-tower.