At each step, careful though they were, Hythe and his companions kicked up a cloud of iron rust, till the scene of desolation was almost blotted out. Of the ship’s guns those that were of iron had almost crumbled into flakes of rust, but the brass cannon were in almost as good condition as they were when the wreck was a noble ship. The sub stooped and examined one of the brass pieces of ordnance. Close to the touch hole were the letters L.R. and the date 1692. "A Frenchman: time of Louis XIV, by Jove!" said the sub to himself. "I wonder what her name is?" He was on the point of walking towards the stern of the wreck when Captain Restronguet laid a detaining hand on his shoulder and flashed his light upon the rust-discoloured sand. Hythe instantly drew back. Almost under his feet yawned a hole full of trailing weeds that looked for all the world like a pit full of loathsome serpents. Evidently understanding the reason for his companion’s curiosity the captain beckoned to Carclew to approach. Then taking the quartermaster’s slate he wrote in bold characters "La Sybille, French treasure-ship, sunk in action, 1695." CHAPTER XIV. "LA FLAMME." Holding up his hand Captain Restronguet gave the signal for the party to retrace their footsteps to the main channel. It was about time, for the disturbed sediment from the crumbling wreck had obliterated every object beyond a distance of a yard. The order of the procession was consequently reversed, Kenwyn leading and the captain bringing up the rear. Half way through the barrier of weed Hythe suddenly became aware that the man immediately in front of him had stopped and was stepping backwards. The next instant the sub was knocked sideways by a tremendous blow. Owing to the resistance of the water his fall was considerably broken, but he found himself lying in a veritable net of tendrils, while above him was some huge moving creature that was lashing out with almost irresistible force. Prudence counselled him to lie still, a sense of duty to his companions urged him to disentangle himself from the clutch of the weeds. He chose the latter course, and contriving to free himself from the serpent-like tendrils he regained his feet, this time on the right side of the barrier of weeds. It was a fearsome sight that met his gaze. Lying at full length upon the sand, and with his hands held in front of his helmet to protect the glass plate, was one of the divers whom the sub recognized as Kenwyn. Over him, and ready to spring upon another victim, was an enormous conger, more than eight feet in length and as thick round as a man’s thigh. Standing ready to lunge with his crowbar was Captain Restronguet, while with axes held ready in a position of attack were Carnon and O’Shaunessey. Recovering his steel bar Hythe, though giddy with the effect of his fall, ranged alongside his friends.