"There is very little to say," began the lieutenant, simply. "The Yankee came in to my cabin to say good-bye and offered me a cigarette. I remember taking a few draws, then everything became misty, though I have a dim recollection of the man lifting me over to my bunk. How long I lay there I cannot tell, but somehow or the other I managed to open the port. The cool air revived me, and then I saw that the wireless indicator light was out. Naturally I looked towards the place where the key of the wireless room was kept, but the key was missing. Then I realised that I had been tricked, and rushing on deck to give the alarm, I found that Flew had already started." "How were the reciprocators secured?" "There are four of them, each in a small cylinder, with a steel chain passing through a ring-bolt at one end of each." "Could they be concealed on his person without being separated?" "I think so, sir." "Then that simplifies matters. If he did not sever the chain--and most likely he had no time to do so--they might be grappled for, even if they fell clear during his downward plunge. However, that will do for the present, Mr. Palmer; I'll see how things are progressing on deck." The cutter had already been launched and was running at a slow speed, barely half a knot, in ever diverging circles around the buoy that marked the spot where the airman had disappeared. Over her stern trailed a stout 3in. rope to which the grapnel was secured. "What's that place yonder?" asked Stockton, pointing to a distant headland on the Syrian shore, as the two chums stood watching the dragging operations. "Tripoli," replied Gerald, "so called because it was built simultaneously by the Syrians, Sidonians, and Aradians. It's a pity we can't go ashore there, for the ramshackle old place is full of historic interest. They say there are traces of the siege by the Crusaders early in the twelfth century. It is also--hello, what's happened?" This ejaculation was occasioned by the sudden stopping of the cutter. Her crew began to haul in the rope, but as soon as the slack was taken up the grapnel obstinately refused to leave the bottom. "She's fouled something, sir," shouted the lieutenant in charge of the boat. "What strain have you put on?" "As much as the rope will stand, sir; we can't get it home another foot." "Then buoy the rope and haul up the lead," replied Captain Brookes. The buoy indicating the lead-line was within a few feet of the cutter, and with but little trouble the buoy was transferred from the log-line to the grapnel-rope, and the former was hauled up. "What have you got?" shouted Captain Brookes, as the heavy weight was lifted over the side of the boat. Lieutenant Sinclair examined the "arming," or tallow filling the hollow in the base of the lead. "Looks like iron scales, sir, or something covered with rust."