-bicycle just managed to squeeze in, and we cautiously pulled for
the ledges.

The tide was just right (we had thought of everything, I must say
that), and after a minute or two's groping along the rocks, we found a
capital landing. Wiedermann and I jumped ashore as easily as if it had
been a quay, and my bicycle should have been landed without a hitch.
How it happened I know not, but just as the sailors were lifting it
out, the boat swayed a little and one of the clumsy fellows let his end
of it slip. A splash of spray broke over it; a mere nothing, it seemed
at the time, and then I had hold of it and we lifted it on to the ledge.

Wiedermann spoke sharply to the man, but I assured him no harm had been
done, and between us we wheeled the thing over the flat rocks, and
pulled it up to the top of the grass bank beyond.

"I can manage all right by myself now," I said. "Good-bye, sir!"

He gave my hand a hard clasp.

"This is Thursday night," he said. "We shall be back on Sunday,
Monday, and Tuesday nights, remember."

"The British Navy and the weather permitting!" I laughed.

"Do not fear!" said he. "I shall be here, and we shall get you aboard
somehow. Come any one of those nights that suits _him_."

"That suits him?" I laughed. "Say rather that suits Providence!"

"Well," he repeated, "I'll be here anyhow. Good luck!"

We saluted, and I started on my way, wheeling my bicycle over the
grass. I confess, however, that I had not gone many yards before I
stopped and looked back. Wiedermann had disappeared from the top of
the bank, and in a moment I heard the faint sounds of the boat rowing
back. Very dimly against the grey sea I could just pick out the
conning tower and low side of the submarine. The gulls were still
crying, but in a more sombre key, I fancied.

So here was I, Conrad von Belke, lieutenant in the German Navy,
treading British turf underfoot, cut off from any hope of escape for
three full days at least! And it was not ordinary British turf either.
I was on the holy of holies, actually landed on those sacred,
jealously-guarded islands (which, I presume, I must not even name
here), where the Grand Fleet had its lair. As to the mere act of
landing, well, you have just seen that there was no insuperable
difficulty in stepping ashore from a submarine at certain places, if
the conditions were favourable and the moment cunningly chosen; but I
proposed to penetrate to the innermost sanctuary,